This just got trumped by that.
At the rate things are going, it’d be faster for me to drive up to Chicago and drag VH’s butt home than waiting for the airlines to get him here.
C’mon, cheer me up. Anyone know a good joke?
Wednesday, August 8th, 2007, 6:37 pm | 
My Venomous Life | 
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August 8, 2007 at 6:49 pm
Three pieces of string are walking down the street on a hot day, and decide to go into a local pub for a drink. No sooner do they walk in, than they’re greeted by the bartender bellowing, “Hey, git outta here, we don’t serve your kind here!” and pointing at a sign posted next to the door which says No Strings Allowed!
They turn and walk back out, debating whether or not to just go somewhere else. One, however, is pissed. “I’m not gonna take that! I’m gonna go in there and make that man give me a drink!” He goes back in, and gets as far as the bar, where the bartender looks at him and patiently explains that it’s nothing personal, it’s just bar policy – no strings allowed, no exceptions. He leaves and rejoins his friends outside.
“Come on, let’s just go. Forget that guy,” they say to him….to no avail, as Aha he has an idea. Quickly, he ties himself in a knot, cuts his top off, and ruffles up the cut end roughly. Confidently, he walks back in and proudly demands a drink.
“Aren’t you that string I’ve just tossed out of here twice?” the bartender growls.
“No sir,” replies the string. “I’m a frayed knot.”
August 8, 2007 at 6:54 pm
My sump pump was running all morning yesterday, constantly. The back yard had 2 feet of water around the pool. I don’t even want to look in the crawl space under the house to see how much more is soaked. We had a bit of rain this afternoon around 3:30 and there were possible tornadoes near O’hare, but the weather’s been all better for hours. I’ve had a couple of Mike’s Hard Lemonades, but do I need to go to O’Hare?
August 8, 2007 at 6:54 pm
Actual exchange between myself and my 7 year old:
“Dingbat.” (me, to her)
“Knucklehead.”
“Noodlehead.”
“Sandwichhead.”
“Sandwichhead? What kind of sandwich.”
-=long, you-stupid-adult look=-
“Baloney. Duh.“
August 8, 2007 at 7:03 pm
Kimmy, I’d never ask you to go to O’Hare to whine in my stead. You enjoy that Hard Lemonade. I’m watching the clock myself: 57 more until it’s Martini o’clock.
WG, you crack me up!
Hey, 56 more!
August 8, 2007 at 7:05 pm
Good Kate. I’m in no shape to drive right now.
August 8, 2007 at 7:06 pm
Me, neither. But that’s just because I’m so pooped. 54 more minutes.
Wait — isn’t it already 8 o’clock in Chicago??!
August 8, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Chicago’s in the same time zone as you dear Kate.
August 8, 2007 at 7:17 pm
But of my two team mates in school – one is in Michigan where it is already 8 pm and the other is in Hong Kong where it is 8 am tomorrow already…
August 8, 2007 at 7:21 pm
Can’t think of a single joke… sad isn’t it. However, if this doesn’t look silly enough to make you laugh – nothing will. *grin*
http://tinyurl.com/3d3are
August 8, 2007 at 9:26 pm
I just spent an hour coming the 16 miles home. On the freeway. I sat in one place long enough that I actually pulled out my laptop to see if there was a wireless network in range of the freeway so I could message Red & tell her where I was.
Blah. I hate construction season in Oregon (the alternative being “rainy season”.)
August 8, 2007 at 11:08 pm
Not exactly a joke but I think it’s funny. (You might not already know it because I don’t see the guy I stole it from on your blog roll.):
the prude’s lament, 3: a haiku
“Sometimes, when I look
at the hole in a donut,
I blush and curse God.”
August 9, 2007 at 9:41 am
Excellent haiku!
August 9, 2007 at 10:24 am
Better late than never. From New England Republican:
A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables; and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, “Jesus is watching you.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze.
When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light on and began searching for more valuables. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, “Jesus is watching you.”
Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.
Did you say that?” he hissed at the parrot.
“Yep,” the parrot confessed, then squawked, “I’m just trying to warn you.”
The burglar relaxed. “Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?”
“Moses,” replied the bird.
“Moses?” the burglar laughed . “What kind of people would name a bird Moses?”
“The same kind of people that would name a Rotweiller Jesus.”
August 9, 2007 at 10:27 am
Hahahaha! That IS a good one. Thanks!
August 9, 2007 at 11:41 am
Q: How do you fit a 300lbs. woman into a size six dress?
A: You take the ‘C’ out of ‘truck,’ and the ‘F’ out of ‘way.’
August 9, 2007 at 11:58 am
But there is no…
oh.. heh :p
August 9, 2007 at 12:00 pm
Bwahahahaha! Ok, I was scratching my head about that one, Rodney, until Mad William’s comment.
Now I can’t stop laughing. Bwahahahahah!