We Missed You Puns

A mooborn!

I said, “Thanks babe. You MRS. right.”

I'm quite the music history buff- always have been. My first inkling as a college student was to explore turning this into a career. So I found a music museum, wrote an impassioned essay, and somehow landed the 12-week internship.

When I got there, I met the curator, a woman named Rhonda. Like me, she had grown up enjoying music and always wanting to know more. Thanks to grants and donors' generosity, she had helped continue the museum's legacy of showcasing what might otherwise be lost to history.

The tradition of the museum had always been to let the interns work in the orchestral wing. My assignment in particular was the string section.

Now I didn't know a whole lot about the string family, but I saw some really fine specimens and decided we could perhaps tell a broader story about the progression of the instruments. And so I began studying.

After about a week of studying, I went to Rhonda and asked if we could do something different here. She was very receptive to the idea and introduced me to her assistant, Dr. Will. His PhD was in history, natch, but he still relished having everyone call him Doctor. It was funny.

Dr. Will helped me learn so much about how the family of instruments developed over time, their overall cultural footprint, etc.

Did you know a fiddle and a violin are the same thing? Did you know the viola family dates back to the 16th C.? Vivaldi wrote 25 cello concertos!

I dazzled visitors with tales of the Stradivarius, Amati and Guarneri families. I noted the increase in neck length over time. I reassured them that despite the name catgut, no cat intestines were used in the creation of these instruments—but it sure might be sheep or goat.

Sadly, 12 weeks goes by quickly when you're having fun, and I got enthusiastic letters of recommendation from Rhonda and Dr. Will, and I do miss them. Hello, you two.

I figured I could waltz (sorry) right in to more museum jobs later, but boy, was I mistaken.

I kept interviewing for the job, but after about the 10th cold shoulder, I had to find out what I was doing wrong. I had done such a good job, after all, right??????

So I fucking called the museum

got the guy who interviewed me on the line—and he wasn't thrilled to even talk to me. But I asked him, sir, why didn't I even get a call back? Weren't my qualifications good?

He said, yes, BUT.......

"...we simply can't hire someone who has exhibited a history of violins."

I had a conversation with my gf about what we would miss most, if one of us was to leave.

She said she would actually miss my dadjokes.

Gotta tell you, did not see dad coming.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

Took her to the park today as it’s a stunningly beautiful day here in NZ.

She was on the swings and I went on the swing next to hers to show how to swing her legs properly....

I said “weeee” as I swung higher and higher as she was laughing.

Miss 4 said “Daddy, you should have gone before we left”...

So proud!!

"Welcome everyone to Dads Anonymous. Again my name is Bill and you will notice that we have a new member, please welcome Gary -- Can you tell us what brought you to us today?"

"Well I have a very embarrassing confession. It's even hard to get the words out."

Bill reassures him, "We are all dads here and have been meeting for decades, we've been through all the highs and lows, births and deaths, tragedies, we've heard it all. Just tell us what's on your mind son, we are here to support each other."

"Well, a couple months ago, I broke both my legs in a motorcycle accident and couldn't walk, so I let my wife use the lawnmower." He says through the sobs...

Bob, one of the other dads, starts to get pale. "...and she didn't even cut it in a crisp geometric pattern, it was just random..." Bob starts to sweat and get dry heaves. "YOU BASTARD", he screams. "HOW COULD YOU LET THAT HAPPEN." The dads rise and get ready to beat the crap out of Gary, when Bill stands between them and breaks it up.

"Guys! Guys, we all get weak sometimes and things happen outside our control. Doug, you remember when you were in recovering from Chemo and you gave your wife a hammer, and she used it to hammer a roofing nail into the drywall to hang a picture!" Doug, looks down in shame, "Yes, that was a bad day, I was so weak. She missed the stud and left a dent in the wall, and she just hung the picture over it, crooked!" There was dead silence. "Thats ok Doug, it was twenty years ago, you were young and foolish, you can let it go". Then all the dads shook hands and sat back down.

Bill starts the meeting up again. Then Gary says, "..theres one more thing, Right after I got out of the hospital, she wanted to make a special dinner for us, so I let her grill the steaks..." "OH LORD THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" screams Dave, another dad, his face turning red. Gary continues "...she burnt them one one side and they were dry and chewy." Now there is a bedlam, one dad immediately passes out cold, chairs are thrown, broken bottles, Gary is on the ground being kicked in the ribs. After a few tense minutes Bill managed to get the dads off of Gary. "Stop it, Dave you're killing him. Come on, you remember that time you let your wife go to the repair shop for an oil change?" Dave hung his head, and muttered yeah. "They convinced her to change the cabin filter, wiper blades and the radiator collant..." Bill kept prodding "and, aaand" ...Dave broke down, "and she bought a jug of blinker fluid!" T

MAN: "Who would ever miss the world cup final?"

GUY: "That was my wifes seat. We have been to the last five world cup finals together, but sadly she passed away."

MAN: "That's terrible, but couldn't you have brought another family member, friend or someone else with you?"

GUY: "No...They are all at her Funeral!"

So we were out celebrating my dad’s birthday last night. I said, “You and Mom are healthy and look good for your age. I wish I had your genes!” (I’m adopted.) Without missing a beat, Dad said, “You can have mine if you want, I can barely fit in them anymore!”

which was my 40th birthday. The BIG Four Oh! As in "Oh, you're 40 and not married? What's wrong with you?"

And my friends, as awesome as they are, kept setting me up on blind dates, but I never seemed to click with any of the women. Pretty women, short women, tall women, rough women, successful women, lazy women - I dated them all and more often than not, they just weren't interested in me.

I think I probably went on twenty or so dates that never resulted in a a single follow up date.

But two months before my birthday, I started dating two women and both fledgling relationships seemed like they were going somewhere as they were getting really, really serious. I couldn't choose one, but I didn't care. I just couldn't believe they were into me. Okay, maybe they weren't the best looking, but I was so desperate for a wife, and I'm definitely no prize myself.

With a few weeks to go before my birthday, I knew I had to act if I had any hope of being married. I bought two rings and proposed to them both (on separate nights, of course) and they both said no. In fact, though they never knew of each other, I went from two good things to both of them not returning my calls. I guess proposing in a mall food court (for Jenny) or down on my knees in front of the bathroom at a minor league baseball game (Susan) were not my best laid plans, doomed to fail. Or maybe I just reeked of desperation.

So the morning of my birthday, I was practically in tears, deep in depression as I knew I missed my deadline. But my friends came though, kind of. They took me out bar hopping and then we all went back to my place where they had a stripper waiting in my favorite chair. She got up, sat me down, and gave me a grinding lap dance. She said nothing, but after a minute, stopped, turned around, looked me in the eye and said "one." Then she started up again, stopped after a minute, turned around and said "two..."

This went on all night until she got to "forty."

It's been a few months now, and I'm not too sad. My friends really tried to get me married, and after two near mrs, I guess it was the thot that counts.

1. My friend once told me she watched Regular Show all the time. I said, "I guess you could say you watch it regularly." We are not friends anymore. (True Story)

2. I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. It's impossible to put down!

3. I wanted to take pictures of the fog this morning… But I mist my chance. I guess I could dew it tomorrow!

4. Looks tasty. Gimme a pizza that.

5. Why do eggs hate jokes? The answers always crack them up!

6. What did the mayonnaise say when somebody opened the refrigerator? "Hey, close the door! I'm dressing!"

7. Somebody stole all my lamps…. And I couldn't be more de-lighted!

8. I once met a pig that did karate… We called him Pork Chop!

9. Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!

10. My ex-wife still misses me. But her aim is starting to improve!

(Source For All Puns Except The First) https://bestlifeonline.com/bad-funny-puns/

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

Lawyer, chemist and a statistician are out in a forest hunting for deer. After one hour of patiently waiting lawyer finally spots one. The lawyer shoots at a deer and misses half a meter to the left. The chemist takes a shot and misses half a meter to the right. Both are furious and dissapointed as they see the deer escape.

Chemist asks statistician - "why you didn't shoot ?"

Statistician replyes - "I didn't need to, we already shot him !".

When I was about 5 years old, my dad told the greatest dad joke. He’d be driving the family through our neighborhood and would say “Look! A man wearing a dress!” My siblings and I would look around and laugh with my dad. We loved when he would say this (it was like an absurd scavenger hunt) but my mother absolutely hated it. “Where? What are you talking about Tom?!” She actually got angry since she couldn’t see the man wearing a dress either. Since he would do this on a semi-regular basis to make us laugh, it became a problem with my mom and she ended up getting so angry as to forbid him saying it ever again.

I never really understood what was going on since I was so young, but I really missed the man wearing a dress joke. At one point, I thought the joke referenced a nearby business with a kilted man for a mascot. A few years ago, I asked my dad what the joke was.

“Oh! It wasn’t the sign,” he told me. “We had a family in the neighborhood with the last name ‘Manwaring’. When we would drive by their house, I’d point at their mailbox and say ‘Look, a Manwaring address!’”

I was too young to read at the time so it took 20 years to be in on his brilliant pun.

Neighbor: “we have a problem. There is water from your property coming on to my property.”

My dad: “well, you're downhill. your problem isn’t me, it’s gravity.”

...I am shook

edit: missed words

My father-in-law was released from the hospital on hospice. Today the nurse came in to check on everything for him. She leaned over and asked, "how do you feel?" He took as deep of a breath as he could, the nurse leaned in close, and he softly said "with my hands".

We are going to miss him so much.

During a heated argument between my younger brother and I, I turned to my father, who was in the same room.

"Why didn't you and Mom just stop at one kid? Why'd you go and have this one?"

Without missing a beat, he turned to me and said,

"Yep, we should have learned from our mistakes."

It sufficiently ended the argument.

"Did I ever tell you about the asshole?"

"What?"

"Well, the asshole was at a meeting with all of the other body parts, and they were deciding who should be in charge of the whole body, right? So first, the brain says, 'C'mon, obviously I should be the boss. I do all of the decisions, thinking--why is this even a question?'

'Well, good luck doing all of the thinking if you can't see where you're going,' say the eyes. 'We should be in charge.'

'What good is it going to do seeing, if you can't get anywhere?' asked the legs.

'Well, without us, you'd have no oxygen,' said the lungs.

'Are you serious?' said the stomach. 'How are you supposed to process energy and do any of this stuff, without me??'

'Well, what about me?' piped up the asshole. 'I'm important too..'

'You?!?' laughed the other parts. 'Shut up, asshole!'

So the asshole went on strike.

A week and a half later, the brain couldn't think straight. The eyes couldn't focus, the legs were asleep from sitting on the pot, and the stomach was so jammed up full of crap that the lungs could barely breathe.

Finally, they all went to the asshole and said, 'Look, we're sorry, we're sorry!! Just come back to work, you can be in charge!'

...and that's why all bosses are assholes."

Miss ya, Pops.

A horse is sitting at home, watching MTV...

He's watching a heavy metal music video, and the guitarist plays an amazing solo. The horse says "that looks amazing, I want to do that!"

The horse goes to the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd like to learn to play guitar." Says the horse.

"Sure," says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you started."

"There's just one problem," says the horse. "I'm a horse."

"Not to worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to teach horses. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."

Sure enough, the horse gets really good at the guitar and he can play that amazing solo. He wants to show his friends, so he picks up the phone and calls chicken.

"Hey Chicken, come over!" he says. Chicken comes over, watches horse play the guitar and thinks it's pretty cool. Chicken watches the music video and says "hey, that drum part is pretty cool, I want to learn to play that."

Chicken goes to the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd like to learn to play the drums." Says the chicken.

"Sure," says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you started."

"There's just one problem," says the chicken. "I'm a chicken."

"Not to worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to teach chickens. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."

Sure enough, the chicken gets really good and begins to jam with the horse. Eventually, they think that something's missing. They watch the video again and realize they need a bass guitarist. They call their friend Cow and show them what they've been up to. Cow thinks it's pretty cool, and wants to learn how to play the bass guitar.

Cow goes to the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd like to learn to play bass guitar." Says the cow.

"Sure," says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you started."

"There's just one problem," says the cow. "I'm a cow."

"Not to worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to teach cows. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."

Sure enough, the cow gets really good at the bass and the animals have a nice band going.

One day, while they're practicing, a man walks by and hears them. He goes up to the animals and says "hey, you guys are pretty good! I'm from a record label, I'd like to sign you!"

The band records an album, puts out some singles and becomes a massive success.

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

Joke 1:

My sister was talking with my dad about the show ‘I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant’ and she went onto ask “how do you accidentally make a person?” And without missing a beat, my father looked her dead in the eye and replied with “I accidentally made three.” With the most serious face I’ve seen in my life.

Joke 2:

My sister, dad, and I were in Wal-Mart one day and in passing the toys, we found those circular beanie baby things with the big eyes. So, my ever impressive father grabs a special edition Chewbacca toy, pretend bites it as though it’s an apple, and says “Huh, this is a... Little Chewy!”

There’s more, considering he’s a Dad, but those two stand out the most to me.

Almost 10 years ago now when my daughter’s mom was pregnant with her—waddling miserably towards the tail-end of her third trimester and about ready to pop—she looked forlornly at her figure in the mirror one day and announced, “Omigod I’m as big as a house!”

And so I, the Rico Suave motherfucker that I am, popped my head up from the book I was reading on the bed and responded thusly without missing a beat:

“Well, baby girl, if you’re a house then you’re my dream home...”

I thought our relationship was my rock on which we would build one hundred stories, but there were termites in the foundation. Unfortunately she ultimately turned out to be a mobile home that couldn’t stay tethered to a single lot for more than a few years at a time as, a short time later, she up-and-skedaddled from our lives and has been a deadbeat mom to our little girl ever since. (My daughter and I built a beautiful, cozy little bungalow-for-two anyways.)

Anyway, does that qualify as a pun, or just an extended metaphor? If not, sorry, I just always thought that was a good line and I wanted to humble-brag a bit.

Daughter was born 8/17/15 (first child). When they put her in mom's arms we were both tearful. I counted her finger and toes then I touched her little ear... she suddenly winced at that and without missing a beat I said "oh no...sorry to earitate you." It was so natural.

Backstory: I play in a small band that does a "tour" of southern Wisconsin every year. The bands name is the Petty Thieves. This is my first year with them, but every year they come up with a tour name and make nice t-shirts and material with the tour name on them. Last two tour names were "Sticky Fingers" and "Busted!" We are looking for something related to the band name. Something clever and crime related. If it has mild sexual innuendo, all the better, but not overtly obscene. Some tour names we came up with are: Five Finger Discount, Backdoor Tour, Snatching Kisses, Kissing Snatches, Robbing the Cradle, Something something Miss Demeanors, Spread 'em, Felonious Funk, Unlawful Entry, Rhymes against Humanity, etc...

If you have anything punny, please throw it out there. Top 3 upvoted names get reddit gold. If we use your tour name, I'l send you the tshirt. Thanks kind sirs!

Growing up in the country, there were silos everywhere. Every single time we would drive past one, without fail, my dad would say, "You know, a guy got stuck in one of those one time and went crazy. Yep, poor guy couldn't find a corner to go to the bathroom in."

No matter how many times we groaned at that joke, dad never missed a chance to tell it.

I was at the grocery store with my teenage brother and when we went through the produce aisle he turned to me and said " Something about this aisle makes me feel like a guy who's been in a coma for the last 20 years trying to figure out the slang he missed" " What?" You know, because that's some rad ish" I've never been prouder.

We've been teaching our 4 year old angel/terrorist daughter to use the phone so that in an emergency she'll be able to call me/SO/emergency services. I noticed when i got home yesterday that I had a missed call on my mobile phone from the land-line number, so I asked her: "Did you call me earlier?" Quick as a flash she replys: "No, I called you Dad!" My work here is done.

They found all the parts that they needed on online, and we're ready to order. Right before Abraham hit the Checkout button, Isaac reviewed the contents of the order:

Isaac: "Dad, you're missing the memory."

Abraham: "God will provide the RAM."

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.

People have got to stop making Nazi puns. They're offensive, Anne Frankly, in terms of humor, they're usually Hitler miss at best. I can just Nazi why you even make them. They'll Holocaust you a Jewish friend someday. We should all just do the Reich thing and stop it... Still... I guess I don't want to stop Jew while you're having so much fun... What the Heil, I'll just sit back in Mein Kampfy chair and watch.

A Christmas Poem
by Dad (1952–2009)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack,
Not a creature was stirring, we was all in the sack;

Our mugs were placed on the mantle with cheer,
In hope that Saint Nick would bring us a beer;

And me I was tucked up all snug in my bed,
But strains of sweet music still danced through my head;

So I sprang from my bed with a crash and a clatter,
And off down the hall with bare feet did I patter;

There on the chair sat my musical pipe,
So I sat down to play without fanfare or hype;

Come Mozart, come Hayden, Stravinski and Strauss,
And write me some music to bring down the house;

When down from the chimney appeared with a crash,
A strange little man in the smoke and the ash;

He wiggled and jumped and got up like a shot,
Came over and said, "Man those cinders are hot!";

His stomach it shook like a bowl full of jelly,
For a moment I thought it was dear old aunt Nelly;

His nose like a cherry, his ears like two jugs,
I was worried that this guy just might be on drugs;

His language was foul, his jokes they were crass,
So I opened the door and threw him out on his ass;

But then as I turned, boy was I ever surprised;
I saw what he'd bought me, or so I surmised;

For there in the corner right under the tree,
Was some brand new sheet music and a case of O.V.;

I turned to say thank-you but found he had gone,
He was not in the garden and not on the lawn;

And just when I thought that he couldn't get far,
I realized the old goat had stolen the car;

Off in the distance he said with a wheeze,
"I hated to do it but you left me the keys!";

I smiled and laughed for this much I could savour,
For I'd just sold the car to my idiot neighbour;

And once more he called as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and don't drive when you're tight!"

Thank you for everything, Dad. We love and miss you.

Mom's friend rings the doorbell. Mom answers the door, "Hi Deb, good to see you. We missed you!"

Dad and I, on opposite sides of the room, look up in unison: "With every shot so far!"

The pride on his face was priceless.

So I was sitting on the couch with my girlfriend, watching hockey. Mentioned that if the game was any more intense, we'd be camping.

She looked up at me confused, and said "why is camping intense?"

Not missing a beat, I responded with "where else would you sleep?"

Took her a couple of seconds to connect it, then she called me an idiot as she burst out laughing. My best one yet.

Boss [9:10 AM] Sorry - missed everything yesterday. Apparently my Slack was frozen...

Me [9:24 AM] We just figured you were... slacking. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! https://media.giphy.com/media/v9rfTQBNqdsSA/giphy.gif

The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.

The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.

Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.

“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.

“Please, call me Max”

“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”

“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”

My dad said this last summer. We were in Mexico, and there was huge flocks of birds swarming above us that day. My stepmom was out on our little porch, reading fifty shades of grey. Suddenly she storms in all huffy and goes up to my dad who was in the kitchen.

Dad: What's up with you?

Stepmom: A fucking bird SHAT on my book! Look! (Sure enough, there was.)

My dad, without missing a beat: Well why are you complaining? Now you got an extra shade of grey!

(This joke just deserved a more catchy title, sorry for the mess.)

Every Tuesday growing up, we had German sausages and sauerkraut for dinner - my dad's favorite. Since I can remember, my dad has told this joke and never misses a chance telling it till this day:

"You know kids, it's not the sausage that makes you fat, it's the sauce!"

Both my younger sister and l looked at eachother, rolled our eyes and thought - why is he telling this joke every single time.. it doesnt make sense! There is no sauce here! Only fried sausages, sauerkraut and potatoes. In fact, where is the goddamn sauce, we could need it. This dish is dry as shit! My poor mom shrugged her shoulders, seemingly just as confused.

When i was about 11-12, I caught up on my dad's hinting and eye contact after the punch line.. he wanted me to get the joke so bad at this point lol. I had a moment, as they say. Oh... OOHH. BOOM. Omg the "SAUCE"!! From the sausage.. makes some people fat.. as in pregnant.. Mind. Blown.

My sister, around 8 at that time, had a few hundred more sausage dinners to "ketchup" ;) I'm not doing so bad myself, 'ey?

Edit: For the slow people out there, this joke is about sausage=penis, sauce=sperm and getting fat=pregnant. Did you have your moment too?? Admittingly, the joke works better in my native language, but you get the idea.

My youngest daughter hates wearing shoes to the point where I hardly ever see them on her. As a result she often loses them. A few weekends ago my girlfriend dropped me and the kids off at the local outdoor pool so we could get some energy out before a long drive to see family. As expected my youngest barely made it out of the parking lot with her shoes on, and as soon as we hit the grass by the pool she kicked them off and we all ran into the water to play and stuff.

I looked up at that big incomprehensible clock they have at swimming pools and saw that we were running late for that long drive, so we fled the pool rushed around getting dressed, only to discover one ... one of her shoes was missing. I was like ... how the hell do you lose one shoe? So we looked all around, then we went to the lost and found. Strangely there were several other single shoes in the lost and found but not hers. We went back and I called her mom to see if we could swing by and grab a spare pair of shoes.

Some kid next to us overheard me on the phone and said, "Hey did you lose a shoe?" I said, " ... yeah ...?" He said, "Yeah I found it over here -- " pointing like 10 feet away -- " so I took it to the cashier's office." (not the lost and found). My oldest daughter, always helpful, ran to the cashier's office and got the shoe, and all was well! We were only about 20 minutes late. Afterwards I was pondering what I could have done to avoid all that and then it hit me. I just needed to make sure that after my kids take off their shoes they are all in one place.

In other words I had just failed to put shoe and shoe together.

She says "oh yes I knew about it."

I say "Good, I wanted to make sure you didn't miss it"

"No we, didn't miss it"

"well clearly, you hit it pretty hard!"

Showing up at grandparent's for the holidays and this happened.
Kid: We Missed You!
Me: You should aim better.

We bought my son a bungee bow and arrow for his birthday.

He wanted something to practice his accuracy with so he asked, "I wonder where you can buy a bull's eye?"

Without missing a beat my wife answered, "Target."

A great groaning was made by all.

We were at a bookstore, and my dad was looking at animal field guides:

Me: Hey look, this one says it's for "Texas Wildlife Scats and Tracks."

Dad: Oh yeah? Picks it up

Me: Yeah! With that you'd be able to to tell who's poops were who's.

Dad: Well yeah, it's scratch and sniff.

Said it so matter of fact that I almost missed it.