Category Archives: humor

I Need a New Joke

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So I’m (finally) getting ready to travel again for work.  I have two gigs in March and two in April, so I’m starting to prepare.  Which means that I have a few calls with the client and folks that I work with in coordinating the gigs and then I get to work on making notes and delivering the course in my living room multiple times until I think I have it down.  In other words, I do a whole lot of talking to myself as I click through the slides and pretend like there are 40 people in front of me.

I always like to crack some kind of joke in the intro I give about myself to set a fun, non-stuffy mood (especially important when you’re training pharmaceutical big wigs).  My regular routine sounds something like this, “I’m based out of Salt Lake City, Utah (pause) No, I’m not a polygamist.”  Normally I get a good laugh, but at the course I taught in Basel, Switzerland, I got feedback on one of the evaluations about it.  The person wrote that the joke was “in bad taste and not necessary.” They then went on to ask if I said it for shock value.  Shock value?  Listen, if I wanted to add shock value I would at least get an F bomb in there.

I know that was only one lame ass person, but now I feel like I need a new joke.  I thought about saying something about my daily commute being by horse (since someone once asked if I traveled by horse – obviously, they don’t know anything about SLC), but these gigs are in Wyoming.  So… they may actually travel by horse.

Give me your best Utah jokes, people.  I have no problem pretending like I came up with it myself.  If it’s a hit though, I will most definitely give you credit right here on this near-famous (wink wink) blog.

Poop Talk

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At our house we talk about poop.  Some people are very private about stuff like that, but Rob and I are all like, “How was your poop this morning?”  We talk about the quality of our poop and our dog’s poop; if he pooped, what he pooped on and if it was a decent poop.  Jack, the dog, not Rob.  Having a good quality bowel movement everyday is important.  For everyone.  You can google it if you don’t believe me.

When Jack doesn’t drop a turd on a walk we’re all concerned.  Rob will come home and look all worried as he says, “Well, that was weird.  He didn’t poop.”  On his afternoon walk it’s common for him to do what we like to call a “double pooper.” Meaning he goes twice.  And listen, the second one is never good.  It’s always a runny mess.

Today, Jack tried to wrap up his poop before he was actually done which means that a couple of extra pieces dropped out after he had left the squatting position.  And do you know what he did when he saw those little nuggets drop out onto the sidewalk? He ate them.  He seriously ate them.  I seriously threw up in my mouth. Unfortunately, there was yet another turd that hadn’t made its way to the ground. Instead it had become what we refer to as a “dangler.”  It was stuck in his butt beard.  It’s more of a butt mustache, really, but the point is that there was a piece of crap stuck in it.  He just kept sitting down and looking at me, and I was like, “What am I supposed to do?”

Because I am a good mom though, I tried to use the end of the poop bag to brush it off.  It worked eventually, but I did not like doing it. The little dude needs to make a clean break next time.  I am not interested in cleaning up butt mustache danglers.

Now, seeing Jack poop is a daily thing.  The cat, however, that’s a much more private matter.  I mean I clean up all of her poop out of the litter box several days a week, but I don’t watch her in the act.  The other day I walked in on her in her litter box and I honestly apologized.  It was so awkward that I was like, “Oh, sorry.  I didn’t know you were in here.”  Cats are different about stuff like that, I just know it.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

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So I’m walking through the aisles at Target the other day when a mom, dad and their daughter pass me.  The girl was probably 7, I’m guessing, and as they pass she says to her parents, “Well, sometimes she calls me a bastard.”  And, of course, I bust up laughing as the mom is like, “Whaaat?!”  I’m assuming this is the first time she’s heard her daughter use such profanity.  Maybe not, but she was clearly shocked, and I thought it was awesome.

I am aware that it’s not really a good thing when your child swears, but you have to admit that it’s hysterical.  My baby sister, who is 10 years younger than me, swore all the time as a little kid.  She even used the swear words in the appropriate context.  At the wee age of about 2, she scolded me for taking a sip of her water by telling me, “You don’t dink my dink, you little bitch.”  Yes, she couldn’t say drink correctly, but bitch she had down.  Years later, when she clearly understood that swearing was not exactly a good thing for kids to do, I may or may not have put a bar of soap in her mouth.  She still talks about it like I’m the worst person on the planet.  Kid clearly needed to learn a lesson though.

I was not really one to be enforcing the whole no swearing thing, however.  I swore like a sailor when I was a kid.  I’m talking on a daily basis.  My dad swore so much that every time I blurted out a profanity I would follow it with, “I’m just quoting my dad.”  Somehow that made it perfectly ok.  One New Year’s Eve I even made a resolution to stop swearing (I think I was like 9), and right at midnight I picked up my pots and pants and yelled, “Happy Fuckin’ New Year’s!”  I am not lying.

Clearly I had a problem.  I changed my ways after I met some wholesome kids around the age of 10 and decided I should clean up my act.  I mean now I swear every fucking day, but you can do that when you’re an adult.  Same with eating cake for dinner should you so choose.

Ask the Pharmacist

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So remember that whole nightmare with the chewable birth control?  Well, chewing those things got worse when I got to the end of the pack.  The four little brown pills don’t taste so much like mint.  No.  It’s more like pure ass.  It’s not good.  And again, half the pill ended up stuck in my tooth.  I knew I couldn’t go on like this.

At the pharmacy, I was thrilled to say, “yes” when they asked me, “Do you have any questions for the pharmacist?”  I’ve never said yes.  They called the pharmacist over and I told him I knew it might be a dumb question, but I was wondering if it was OK to swallow the pills even though they’re chewable.  Honest to God, the dude looked at me like I was the dumbest person on the planet.  Instead of reassuring me that this was not a dumb question, he gave the ‘you are the biggest idiot’ look before saying, “Yeah.”

So, the good news is I can swallow the damn pills.  The bad news is the pharmacist is a total douche bag.

Chicken Bone Graveyard

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I walk Jack every afternoon, and I’m used to him finding little treasures along the way.  Mainly other dogs’ turds and the occasional Dorito.  There is this one house we often pass along one of our routes that produces something really special though. Chicken bones.  Yep, chicken bones.  Not like one time we saw one chicken bone there.  Jack has sniffed out multiple chicken bones at this house.  I was telling this to Rob and Em the other day and Em was like, “Yeah, I know which house you’re talking about.  He found a chicken bone there once when I walked him.”

Chicken bones and dogs don’t mix so I’m always yanking him away right before he snatches it up in his mouth.  But I’m just really confused about why there are always these bones in the front of someone’s yard.  First, they obviously have a chicken wing addiction.  Second, they have decided that their front pine tree is the perfect place to discard of the bones.  There’s something strangely eerie about it, really.

I think it’s time I organize an undercover investigation.  That or we just set up some cameras one night and wing it.  No pun intended.

Money Maker

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I had every intention of writing this post yesterday, but somewhere between the total starvation and raging headache, I forgot.  Ok, it’s not really that bad.  Rob and I are doing a 3 day juice cleanse, so I did get a bit of a headache and felt a little hungry yesterday late afternoon, but the truth is that I feel pretty good overall. Rob, on the other hand, said eating a shoe sounded good to him.  I’ll write about it more when it’s all said and done.

In other news, I’ve come up with a new money making venture.  The freelance thing has been slow for awhile now, so I’m looking into other ways to bring in some money.  This idea happens to be one I stole from the awesomely funny television show New Girl.  It’s just such a perfect fit!

In their apartment (on the show), they have what’s called an “annoying jar.”  Every time one of the roomies does something considered annoying by any of the other roomies, the annoying one has to put money in the jar.  You might be thinking, but she doesn’t even have roommates, so what good will this do?  I do have one roommate though; my husband.  And because I love him very much, I can tell you that he is the king of annoying.  Wait, let’s capitalize that; King of Annoying.  That’s better.

In just one evening at home I guarantee you I could make a shit ton of money. Like every time he makes one of his super annoying noises, that’s like $10 in the jar. More if he’s already been asked to stop making these obnoxious sounds.  It sounds weird, I know, but Rob likes to make high-pitched noises and make other loud outbursts on a regular basis.  For some reason it’s especially bad when we’re playing Word With Friends against each other, which we do almost daily.

Rob also likes to call me all kinds of nicknames that really aren’t that cute.  I mean yes, they are pretty comical, but if I can classify them as annoying, well, money! Some of the most common names he calls me:

Slip N’ Slide

Riboflavin

Poop Pickle

Stink Biscuit

Smoke Screen

There are many more, but you get the idea.  Romantic, eh?  They are if they equal money in the jar!  Of course, I’m looking at other “job” options, but I think this could be very profitable.  Profitable, for me.  I guess Rob could end up poor.  Damn, I didn’t really think that through.

It’s Me Against the Ice

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The freezing rain from yesterday is still manifesting itself all over everyone’s driveways and sidewalks.  Which is why I knew I had to come up with a way to fight back.  I couldn’t stand the thought of Jack being cooped up again without an afternoon walk.  Luckily, some brain power kicked in and I remembered Rob and I bought these clamp things last winter for hiking in the snow.  Let’s just say the ice has met it’s match.  I didn’t even come close to wiping out once. Neener neener neener!

Who's tough now?

Who’s tough now?

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

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I’m on top of things.  What I mean is I’m pretty good at knowing what is going on around me at all times.  Ok, I’m actually amazing at it.  So amazing that I typically know what’s going on with other people too.  Complete strangers, I’m talking.  No, not because I’m a snoop.  That might be a very small part of it, but the other part is simply that I’m very aware and intuitive.

I remind you of this innate ability to give myself some credibility when I say that something is about to go down.  I don’t know what that means exactly, but there have been a couple of signs today that suggest that 1) the world is about to end, 2) global warming is reminding us that it doesn’t mess around and we will pay (all weird weather can point to global warming, not just the warm kind) or 3) the birds are about to stage their attack.

It all started yesterday when I was at the nail salon getting a mani/pedi.  There’s this Vietnamese nail salon just down the road that I quite like, so I popped in as a means to help cure my winter blues and, of course, get my nails looking cute. Anyway, the owner dude is a chronic whistler.  Have you ever met one of these people?  I’m talking NONSTOP whistling.  It didn’t matter what song came on the radio; he could whistle it.  Pop, country, rap.  Yep, rap.  I’ve been to this place several times, so I’m familiar with his whistling addiction, but yesterday I sensed something a little darker behind it all.  The whistling was a bit more frantic, and I had the sense he knew something was about to go down.  There was a real negative energy.

Example number two comes today when we wake up to FREEZING RAIN.  What the fuck, Utah?  Listen, I know that lots of places deal with freezing rain, but it’s not really something we ever worry about here.  We deal with the smog, snow and cold but not the freezing rain.  Until today that is.

My final example is the birds.  You know what, I really don’t like birds.  And now that I’ve witnessed them “organizing” in my backyard, I am even more leery of them. For the past hour they have been squawking and flying frantically back and forth from tree to tree.  Oh, and dive bombing to the ground.  I’m not making this shit up. Jack even knows something is up and has spent the last 30 minutes out there chasing them and staring them down.  They are definitely up to something.

You can’t hide these signs from me, oh no.  That would work about as well as Rob trying to cover up his fart with a laugh.  Yes, he did this last night while we were sitting on the couch.  The thunderous shake underneath my ass was a dead giveaway though.  Anyway, when whatever is going to happen does in fact happen, don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I mean not that you could have done anything because I don’t know what it is, but you know what I’m saying.  Just give credit where credit is deserved.

In Search of Summer

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Remember summer?  That was fun, wasn’t it?  You walked your dog with only one layer of clothes on, lounged in the backyard with a San Pellegrino lemonade and ate dinner outside every single, glorious night.  That was really nice.  I liked it.

Fast forward to January 23.  The typical high temperature is around 20 whopping degrees, all you can think about is how to stay warm inside and out and you are almost positive you have seasonal affective disorder.

I know, I know, I keep talking about the weather.  I have lived in Utah my entire life; you’d think I’d be used to this.  No one gets used to smog so thick you can taste it or temps in the single digits though.  Ok, maybe some people get used to the cold. Let’s be honest though; those people are weird.

What do you other cold weather folks do to beat the winter blues?  Warm weather friends, need not reply.  Unless, of course, you would like to invite me to stay with you until May.  That’s an option.

Smiling Lessons

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“I just like smiling.  Smiling’s my favorite.”  If you don’t know what movie that line’s from, then it’s time for you to watch Elf.  It doesn’t matter if it’s past Christmas, watch it.  Watch it now.  It will make you so happy.

I did have a point to typing that line other then lecturing you to watch Elf.  You see, I saw this commercial the other day for fake teeth.  Veneers, I guess.  It was infomercial-style, so they were telling you what a great deal you would get if you ordered today.  And all the pictures they were showing were really compelling. Listen, my dad has veneers and when I first saw those things I was like, “Wow, those are amazing.”  I mean they really are nice looking teeth.

Anyway, the infomercial was talking about what was included if you made an appointment for your new teeth and I was kind of half paying attention when all of a sudden I heard, “Order today and you’ll receive free smiling lessons.”  Hold up. Smiling lessons?  How long does such a lesson last?  Can you actually teach someone to smile?  I’m pretty sure if you feel happy or hear something funny, your mouth will automatically know what to do.  I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure.

Wait, I have an idea.  Have those people watch Elf.  The smiles will come, I promise you.