Another "tell me a funny story" thread.

I’m feeling a little down in the dumps about mundane pointless stuff I won’t share here. Does anyone have funny stories about your life, with kids, spouses, parents, friends, past or present, you’d like to share here? I’d love to read some.

Here’s one from my family’s past that is kind of funny to me, looking back.

Between my two marriages, my three daughters and I lived in two-bedroom apartments. This usually meant fairly cramped living quarters, and I partially solved this by letting the girls have the bedrooms and I slept on the couch, or with my youngest daughter, who was a snuggler. My youngest always slept in a room with someone else, or in the same bed with someone.

When I remarried, I bought a big house (broke into my profit sharing) that had enough bedrooms for all three of my daughters, and for his daughter also, to have their own bedrooms. They all liked having their own space, but at night, the youngest (who was eight at the time) was scared.

For a while, we let her sleep on the floor in our room, but my new husband got tired of that, so we tried night lights, stuffed animals, cats (they wouldn’t stay in beds unless they weren’t wanted), and nothing worked.

The youngest couldn’t get to sleep, so she would wait till her older sisters were sleeping, and go sneak in bed with them. This would make them mad so they would kick her out. She would try not to wake them up, and often succeeded in sleeping the whole night with one or the other one.

So those two older ones got together and started charging her a dollar a night, every time they caught her. Sometimes she would leave evidence, like a blanket or her favorite stuffed animal, even if she remembered to go back to her own bed before they woke up. Then they would go into her room holding the offending item and tell her to fork over (I supplied most of those dollars). Eventually, this dollar thing broke her of the habit. I thought it was kind of mean at the time, but now they all laugh about it.

Who’s next?

I forgot that quotation marks don’t show up in the subject line. The subject is supposed to read: Another “tell me a funny story” thread. Sorry

Thread title restored by UncleBeer.

with his wonderful magic wand. Thanks, Uncle Beer.

My sister in law is the sweetest creature, and she’s super intelligent, but somewhat lacking in common sense. She’s very kind, and she likes to chat to people even when she clearly has no knowledge of, and no interest in, the subject - just so people don’t think she’s bored. There are loads of examples of things she has said aloud that she really should have kept to herself, but this is the one I remember best.

My family and old friends met up one time and there were several of us sat around drinking tea and chatting. One of the family friends had a new (3 month old) baby. The friend was chatting about the work involved in bringing up children, how rewarding it is, and so on. My sister in law, obviously trying to join in the conversation, but having no frame of reference at all, pipes up with “Is it a bit like having a pony?”

The family were used to this sort of thing, and fell about laughing. My poor friend, however, had never met this girl before, and the look of incredulity on her face at the question was an absolute treat.

Thanks, Charley. This sounds an awful lot like something people in my family would do, and there are more than one of us.

Gotta go to class now; thanks in advance to anyone who has a story to share. Bye till later.


Here’s a kind of funny story my dad reminded me of recently:

You were four or five years of age. I would take you on long rides on the back of my ten-speed. One day I took you to my boss’s house. Jim Price was the principal of the high school and the father of SIX kids all under the age of ten. He and his wife did not keep a very tidy house. The kitchen had a bare concrete floor and a long picnic table for the family dining. Various boxes of cereal, crackers, cookies and other consumables were scattered everywhere. You were directed to the playroom, the attached garage, to enjoy the broken bounty that six wild rugrats shared. Toys were piled high along all of the walls and the floor was barely visible beneath the broken and crushed plastic parts. I knelt down to retie your shoe and said to you, “Wow, what a huge selection of toys to play with. Jim and I are going to be in the kitchen helping his wife make supper. We have been invited to stay. Isn’t that great?” To which you softly replied, “I’ll play here, Dad, but I’m not eating here!”

Well, I made excuses for us both and we pedaled away in short order. That night when Mom got home from school I told her the story and we both laughed until we cried. You were already in bed asleep so you didn’t get to enjoy it with us. You probably wouldn’t have seen the humor anyway. You were just real glad that Dad got you away from a bad situation in your eyes. And, I have to admit, I understood completely.

…tho actually, it’s two related stories…
My daughter did the tooth-fairy thing, and we were diligent about replacing the tooth with cash. One night my husband went in her room to make the switch and came back to the living room holding two slips of bright pink paper and chuckling. One slip had the pencilled message “Look on the window sill” and the other, folded around a tissue-wrapped tooth, said “Here is the tooth” We still have both slips of paper and the tooth.
Fast forward a few months. Daughter comes into the living room and announces “I know there’s no tooth fairy”
“How do you know that?” we ask.
“I gave you the ultimate test last night. I lost a tooth and didn’t tell you, and it was still under my pillow this morning!”
Her smugness didn’t last long, tho, when we pointed out that she’s no longer be getting paid for teeth. But I still get the giggles over her “ultimate test”…

My older sister (a little airheaded at times) and I were grocery shopping together. I was telling her how last week I got a mango and it was so good, etc.

So we’re walking through the produce department and she picks up a big,furry, brown coconut. She inspects it, turns to me and says (dead serious) “Is this a mango?”

I looked at her in absolute disbelief. “No, that’s not a mango! Are you crazy?”

She replies defensively “Well, I don’t know what a mango looks like!”

I say “Well, you know what a COCONUT looks like, don’t you?”

She laughs and says “Yeah, I guess” and keeps shopping. Now when we shop together I’ll pick up things like a pack of hotdogs and say “Is this a mango?”

Scary thing is, she is EXTREMELY intelligent. Just incredibly goofy sometimes.


This might be funny to me ten years from now, but I stil cry to remember it.

I have a new roommate right now that i can’t stand. One of his shortcomings is his feet. He has some kind of foot fungus that smells powerfully bad. Really, I’m a taxidermist and his feet smell worse than any dead flesh i have cut into. Raw sewage smells better than his feet. My butt smells better than his feet. Shit from a diseased poodle smells better than this guy’s feet.

Every night he comes home from work, takes off his boots and starts to work on his feet. He scrapes all the cheesy junk off them, and even my string stomach cannot deal with this for much longer (God, i swear- I can’t come home tonight and go through this again).

So, I recently acquired an old filing cabinet that was useful, yet dirty. I needed to clean it so I grabbed a sponge from the bathroom and got to work. Then I became aware of the smell. It seemed to be coming from the sponge, but i couldn’t pinpoint it. It also seemed to be coming from the filing cabinet, particulary where it had been wiped. I still couldn’t locate the source of smell, then it seemed to get stronger.

“Yuck”, I said aloud.

My roommate heard me and asked what was wrong.

“Something smells. I can’t figure out if it’s the filing cabinet or the sponge.”

“Oh, it must be the filing cabinet- because i just used that sponge on my feet and it was fine…”

I won’t describe my reaction to this news, only the idea that I was spreading cheese-fungus germs all over my filing cabinet, and squeezing my hand over the foot-fungus sponge was… unpleasant.

Thank you, Turpentine. I will return to complete this post immediately after I puke. :slight_smile:

I was at a crowded bar recently with some friends, and we waited at the front for a little while for a table to clear. When we spotted one, we of course jumped on it. The waitress had wiped the table, but had not picked up the previous customers’ credit slips. Being nosy, I leaned over to see how much of a gratuity they had left her. I noticed her coming over, so I smiled and said, “I was just checking out your tips.”

She grinned back and said, “That’s OK. I had a good look at your ass when you walked over.”

Maybe I’ll see if she’s available… :slight_smile:

That was really funny Ogre! :smiley: And I really could have lived without the cheese fungus story Turpentine! My stomach is turning just thinking about it. Bleech. We really need a nauseous smiley.

I told this one back in the joke thread, but since it is a true story, I think it fits your criteria.

I was getting undressed in front of my 3 year old son. He pointed at my chest, and asked “What are those called?” I replied, “They’re called breasts.” He said, “Oh, bress?”

“No, honey, one is called a breast.” (emphasis on the -ST)

“Oh. What’s the other one called?”


True story. My dad was one of the idiots participating.

US Army Special Forces (aka Green Berets) A-team in the jungles of Southeast Asia in 1970. They’re through with the day’s work, and are preparing to clear a hole in the triple-canopy jungle for a helicopter to lower a harness on a winch cable to pick them up. Normally they’d just pick a convenient tree, strap a 1-pound block of C-4 plastic explosive onto the side of it, and blow it into toothpicks. This time, the team’s explosives guy decides he’ll knock the tree over so it takes down a coupla others via the domino effect. Good plan, in theory.
So the guy digs a hole under the base of this 200-foot tall teak tree, and sticks two pounds of C-4 under it. (for those unschooled in the use of high explosives, half a pound of C-4 is overkill for a tree)

They squeeze off the plastique, and the tree goes straight up out of sight. They keep waiting to hear it crash into the treetops, but nothing happens for a good five seconds. Then the tree falls straight back down, burying itself 30 feet or so in the dirt. :eek:

By the time they stopped rolling on the ground laughing, they were afraid they’d let down their guard for a few seconds and did a Python-esque “Run away! Run away”.

Yeah turp… thats just not funny. Gag. I may post about my stinky feet, but there never like that! Limburger anyone?
My story.

This happened many years before I was born. My parents had not been married too long. They were living in a duplex and had a cat that they had to get rid of (my moms not much of a cat lover) because it was in heat or whatever sexually happens to male cats and was driving them crazy.
A neighbor they didn’t talk to very much came over out of the blue looking very sad and depressed. My mom asked her whats wrong and she said, “My Dad died.” My MOTHER thinks she said, “My cat died.” My mother quite unsympatheticly says, “Oh really? I had to get rid of mine last week.” The neighbor flabergasted says “What? Why??” To which my Mom replies “He was going into heat, strutting around and making so much racket we couldn’t take it anymore. We took him out into the country and just dropped him off.”
The whole time my Dad was standing behind the neighbor with a look of horror on his face waving his arms and mouthing “NO! NO! NO!”

God, I wish I could have been there… I would have DIED from laughter.

Not a personal acquaintance of mine, but I thought this was pretty funny:

I don’t know if you’ve seen these before, but I’ve posted my funny stories here already.

There’s the time I punched a pregnant lady. The OP isn’t all that funny, but some of the replies are great.

I had a mishap doing work at my sister’s house. Not as funny as the first time I screwed up at my sister’s place, but my bother-in-law likes teasing me about it still.

But the one that the whole family remembers is the time I nearly electrocuted myself trying to be cool in front of a nurse. This is the one I will never live down.

Oh my god! This is too funny…it’s killing me! I’m going to have to start saying that. ROFL!! I want to go and tell people this story so that when I ask if things are a mango, they know to just say, “No, that’s not a mango!” I love this! I keep doing that thing where I’ll laugh really hard for a while and sort of wind down and then do that end-of-laugh-sigh and start right back up again.

Unfortunately, all this laughing has made me completely forget anything even remotely funny that has ever happened to me, so in truth, I have nothing substantial to add to this thread. Sorry. :slight_smile: But if I think of something, I’ll be back!

My sister, riding in a cart, is being pushed into a grocery store by my mother. A kindly, old man approaches and comments on what a beautiful little girl she is and asks her how old she is.

SisterNym shyly holds up five fingers.

Kindly old man asks, “And how many is that?”

SisterNym responds with, “What? Can’t you count?”

One more. I posted this a while back in a Pit thread, but it’s a funny story. I’ve taken the liberty of cleaning up some of the Pit language in it to make it more acceptable for MPSIMS. I also apologize for the length.

I once had a very fiery relationship with a woman (Irish redhead, of course) when I was quite a bit younger and dumber. Well, During the three years we dated each other, we broke up innumerable times, for every ridiculous reason under the sun, but we were addicted to each other. We would tell each other to “piss off and die” with one breath, then end up in a passionate embrace with the next. It was quite exciting at the time.

So, during one of our many (oh, so many) breakups, we both began dating a different person, but as had happened before, we began gravitating toward each other again. First we called each other names, then we began seeing each other again. She was such a pain in the butt, but I loved her to distraction. I haven’t seen her in 4 years, and to this day I wonder what would happen if I ever ran into her again. I digress.

We got all romantic again, and she invited me up to her house for an intimate evening. I offered to cook dinner for us, romance her with candlelight, and serenade her with my 12-string guitar…hopefully (in my mind) to be followed by other less mentionable, but wonderful things.

Imagine, if you will, the setting. We both lived in central Alabama. I was in Montgomery, and she owned a house just north of there, outside a tiny town called Wetumpka. The point is, she lived in the sticks. The woods. It was a beautiful little place, but God, was it ever remote. It was down not one, but two dirt roads, about 8 miles from the nearest paved road.

On the evening in question, it was raining like a bastard. I called her to tell her I was on my way, and she responded that I should meet her in the parking lot of the church on the main highway, and from there ride with her to her house, so that my poor, woefully inadequate Nissan Sentra wouldn’t get stuck in the mud on one of the dirt roads. Well, I met her there, and we proceeded to her house.

It was a great evening. I made (IIRC) eggplant parmesan and lamb, and we shared a bottle of cabernet. Everything was proceeding splendidly. Our fatal flaw was that we didn’t stop with the wine. We then started in on the gin and tonic. I should have known better. Anyway, I played a few “wooing” songs for her, and before you know it, we were on her bed, breathing heavily. So far, so good, right? So thought I, but I couldn’t be further from the truth.

I swear to God I heard the death knell for the evening when she uttered the words, “you didn’t really love that girl (name omitted) you were seeing, did you?” Now, you know and I know what I should have said. For chrissakes, her cat was sitting on the end of the bed saying, “Hesitation is not acceptable! Say ‘hell no’ and get laid, fool!”

I hesitated. For quite a while, as I recall.

This was a mistake.

She reacted in the manner I was so used to, except for the fact that the gin distilled her anger into something very like nitroglycerine. Very touchy. Well, not to put too fine apoint on it, I responded with exactly the wrong statement: “Well, there were times…” If I had been remotely sober, I never would have said this in a million years. Unfortunately, I said it, all hell broke loose, the nitro hit the floor, and that sentence fragment was all I managed to utter before the apocalypse.

She pitched a fit like I’ve never seen before. She cried. She screamed. She threw things (including a half-empty bottle of Tanqueray THROUGH her kitchen window.) She finally demanded that I get out.

ME: It’s pissing down rain, and my car’s in the church parking lot!
HER: I don’t care! Get out!
ME: Hell no. You’re stuck with me until you decide to give me a ride back to my car.
HER (you should imagine icicles dripping from her voice): Fine! Then I’m leaving.

She goes out, gets in her car, and drives off. I was (of course) drunkenly pissed at her by this time, so I got all Clint Eastwood. “If she doesn’t want me around, fine, I’m leaving, and to hell with her. I don’t need her, and I didn’t like her ANY-DAMN-WAY.” So, I pack up my guitar, sling it across my back, and I wander out into the dark, dark night, on a quest for my car.

There I am, looking like Woody-Frickin’-Guthrie, walking down a rainy, muddy road with a guitar on my back, half-drunk, stewing in my own anger, when I hear a low growl. I look around, and there is a giant dog baring his teeth at me. I’m startled, I jump backwards, and I slip. I fall flat on my back in the mud right on top of my guitar. I hear things snap. This dog jumps at me, and bites at the bottom of my boot. I kick him away, and he comes back again. I reach out, grab a stick (it was just like an adventure movie, I swear,) and with one swing, whack the dog right in the kisser. The dog runs off.

Imagine me lying on the side of some rural dirt road at 3 AM, in a mud puddle, lying on the sodden, muddy ruins of my guitar, with one chewed-up boot. I was not a happy camper.

I made it back to my car without further incident (mostly.) I drove back into Montgomery, gibbering like a maniac, I’m sure…I don’t really remember the drive. I got there just as dawn was breaking. My roommate, already up and about, nearly fainted when I walked in like a wounded infantryman. I wearily made my way back to the bathroom, where I ran a very hot bath. As soon as I immersed myself, the phone rang. Who was it? My girlfriend, of course, crying and worried, wondering why I had left.

I still miss her, sometimes.