Ah, these give me the warm fuzzies. Asterisks (**) next to my personal favourites.
On Friends & Family
Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend. -Agatha Christie
**Apparently, 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. And there are 5 people in my family, so it must be one of them. It’s either my mum or my dad. Or my older brother Colin. Or my younger brother Ho-Chan-Chu. But I think it’s Colin. -Tim Vine
I drink to make other people interesting. -George Jean Nathan
I work until beer o’clock. -Steven King
Actually, it only takes one drink to get me loaded. Trouble is, I can’t remember if it’s the thirteenth or fourteenth. -George Burns
Time is never wasted when you’re wasted all the time. -Catherina Zandonella
Old aunts used to come up to me at weddings, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me, “You’re next.” They stopped after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.
I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally. -W.C. Fields
A woman’s mind is cleaner than a man’s. She changes it more often. -Oliver Herford
I’d love to kiss you, but I just washed my hair. -Bette Davis
It’s too bad that stupidity isn’t painful -Anton Szandor LaVey
Sex is like bridge: If you don’t have a good partner, you better have a good hand. -Charles Pierce
I practice safe sex – I use an airbag. -Garry Shandling
When I’m good I’m very, very good but when I’m bad I’m better. -Mae West
Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m schizophrenic, and so am I. -Oscar Levant
Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most. -Mark Twain
Some mornings it just doesn’t seem worth it to gnaw through the leather straps. -Emo Philips
**The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they’re going to be when you kill them. -William Clayton
I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. -Jerome K. Jerome
I’m not sure where this originated, but it inspires me every time I have to deal with a real dick.
I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, “Hello?” I politely said, “This is Steve Moyer and could I please speak to Robin Carter?” Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn’t believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin’s correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled “You’re an asshole!” and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word “Asshole,” and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I’d call him up. He’d answer, and then I’d yell, ‘You’re an asshole!” It would always cheer me up. Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the asshole. Then one day I had an idea.
I dialed his number, then heard his voice, “Hello.” I made up a name. “Hi. This is Herman with the telephone company and I’m just calling to see if you’re familiar with our caller ID program?” He went, “No!” and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re an asshole!” And the reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there’s ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.
Later… The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn’t think she was ever going to leave. Finally her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the stall. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought, she’s finally leaving.
All of a sudden this black Camaro come flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, “You can’t just do that, Buddy. I was here first!” The guy climbed out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn’t even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy’s an asshole, there’s sure a lot of assholes in this world. I noticed he had a “For Sale” sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I’m at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, “You’re an asshole!” (It’s really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial). I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I’d better call this guy, too.
After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, “Hello.” I said,
“Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?”
“Yes it is.”
“Can you tell me where I can see it?”
“Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It’s a yellow house and the car’s parked right out front.”
I said, “What’s your name?”
“My name is Don Hansen.”
“When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”
“I’m home in the evenings.”
“Listen Don, can I tell you something?”
“Don, You’re an asshole!” And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up I added Don Hansen’s number to my speed dialer. For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two assholes to call. Then after several weeks of calling the assholes and hanging up on them, the whole thing started to seem like an obligation. It just wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution.
First, I had my phone dial Asshole #1. A man answered nicely saying, “Hello.”
I yelled “You’re an asshole!”, but I didn’t hang up.
The asshole said, “Are you still there?”
I said, “Yeah..”
He said, “Stop calling me.”
I said, “No.”
He said, “What’s your name, Pal?”
I said, “Don Hansen.”
“Where do you live?”
“1802 West 34th Street. It’s a yellow house and my black Camaro’s parked out front.”
“I’m coming over right now, Don. You’d better start saying your prayers.”
“Yeah, like I’m really scared, Asshole!”, and I hung up.
Then I called Asshole #2.
He answered, “Hello.”
I said, “Hello, Asshole!”
He said, “If I ever find out who you are…”
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“Well, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now Asshole!” And I hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them two homosexuals were having a lover’s quarrel down at 1802 West 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing. I turned onto 34th Street and parked my car under the shade of a tree half a block from Asshole #2’s house. There were two guys fighting out front. Suddenly there were about 12 police cars and a helicopter. The police wrestled the two men to the ground and took them away. A couple of months go by and I get a call for jury duty. I was picked to be on a trial of two guys charged with disorderly conduct. As luck would have it, it happened to be the same two guys. I might have influenced the jury, because when they announced the verdict, they said, “We the jury find the defendants to be guilty, and a couple of assholes.”
An Irishman, a Mexican and a blonde guy were doing construction work on scaffolding on the 20th floor of a building. They were eating lunch and the Irishman said, “Corned beef and cabbage! If I get corned beef and cabbage one more time for lunch I’m going to jump off this building.” The Mexican opened his lunch box and exclaimed, “Burritos again! If I get burritos one more time I’m going to jump off, too.” The blond opened his lunch and said, “Bologna again. If I get a bologna sandwich one more time, I’m jumping too.”
The next day the Irishman opened his lunch box, saw corned beef and cabbage and jumped to his death. The Mexican opened his lunch, saw a burrito and jumped too. The blonde guy opened his lunch, saw the bologna and jumped to his death as well.
At the funeral the Irishman’s wife was weeping. She said, “If I’d known how really tired he was of corned beef and cabbage, I never would have given it to him again!” The Mexican’s wife also wept and said, “I could have given him tacos or enchiladas! I didn’t realize he hated burritos so much.” Everyone turned and stared at the blonde’s wife. “Hey, don’t look at me,” she said, “He makes his own lunch.”
(Scroll down for “10 Simple Rules for Dating my Daughter”)
You want = You want
We need = I want
It’s your decision = The correct decision should be obvious by now
Do what you want = You’ll pay for this later
We need to talk = I need to complain
Sure… go ahead = I don’t want you to.
I’m hungry = (a) Make me something to eat (b) Stop what you are doing, scrape together your last $5, and go drive across town and get me something to eat. I don’t care if what you are doing is important.
I’m not upset = Of course I’m upset, you moron.
You’re certainly attentive tonight. = Is sex all you ever think about?
I’m not emotional! And I’m not overreacting! = I’m on my period. (offensive!)
Be romantic, turn out the lights. = I have flabby thighs. (offensive!)
This kitchen is so inconvenient = I want a new house.
The car is empty = Go fill it up
The trash is full = Take it out
The dog is barking = Go outside in your underwear and see what is wrong
I heard a noise = I noticed you were almost asleep.
Do you love me? = I’m going to ask for something expensive.
How much do you love me? = I did something today you’re really not going to like.
I’ll be ready in a minute = Kick off your shoes and find a good game on T.V.
Is my butt fat? = Tell me I’m beautiful.
You have to learn to communicate. = Just agree with me.
Are you listening to me!? = Too late, you’re dead.
Please walk me home = Let’s go make out. (This assumption has gotten some guys into trouble…)
It’s all right, dear. = You’ll pay for this.
Yes = No
No = No
Maybe = No
I’m sorry. = You’ll be sorry.
Do you like this recipe? = It’s easy to fix, so you’d better get use to it.
I’m not yelling! = Yes I am yelling because I think this is important.
All we’re going to buy is a soap dish = It goes without saying that we’re stopping at the cosmetics department, the shoe department, I need to look at a few new pocket books, and OMG there’s a sale in lingerie, and wouldn’t these pink sheets look great in the bedroom and did you bring your checkbook?
In response to “What’s Wrong?”:
The same old thing. = Nothing.
Nothing. = Everything. (So true.)
Everything. = My PMS is acting up. (offensive)
Nothing, really… = It’s just that you’re such an _______.
I don’t want to talk about it. = Go away, I’m still building up steam.
What makes you think there is something wrong? = I’m going to kill you.
Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter
Copyright 1998 W. Bruce Cameron
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka – zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car – there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
“Hi, this is —– speaking, and you’ve reached the Mental Health Hotline.
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.
If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.
If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.
If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.
If you are dyslexic, press 96969696.
If you have bi-polar disorder, please leave a message after the beep or before the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All operators are too busy to talk to you.
If you are menopausal, hang up, turn on the fan, lay down & cry. You won’t be crazy forever.
If you are blonde don’t press any buttons, you’ll just mess it up.”
(I saved this over 5 years ago, source unknown)
The Office has ruined the caliber of many a conversation in my life (with mostly myself to blame). What I didn’t realize was just how much “That’s What She Said” has taken on a life of its own, as emphasized by the following university article, ‘“That’s What She Said” Joke Made Every Time Archaeology Professor Refers to Bone:
At first, Rogers hoped it would be an isolated incident, but the situation took a turn for the worse the next week when the class began to study the terminology of artifact classification in preparation for an upcoming dig.
This article just cracks me up so much. It must be intentionally hilarious;
While most students join in on the laughter, some have voiced complaints about the jocular mood. Asked to explain her decision to leave the class, Makaila Farber ’09 responded, “I’m hip. I watch ‘The Office.’ But honestly, the class was getting so annoying that I just couldn’t come anymore.”
Rogers implores other students in the class to stick it out until the end of the semester. “Come on, guys,” he urged. “You can’t just pull out when you’re not enjoying yourselves anymore.“