Funniest thing witnessed

What is the shit-your-pants funniest thing you ever did see? I can think of 3 things:

  1. One day in ‘the city’ (what us small town hicks call any part of the incorporated or unincorporated areas in or around Kansas City) my friend and I were sitting in my car at a red light. The left turn lane was chock full. Suddenly, the guy in the lane looks around, then darts through the light. Everyone else follows him. For the next 5 minutes, our lights all stayed red, including the left turn light, but no one with a green could go because there was a constant flow of cars through the red left turn light. Finally, a cop pulled up, lights a-flashing, but everyone ignored him and kept going on through the light. He got out, looked at the red light, looked at the cars, waved his arms around a bit, got back in, used his radio, and while he was sitting in his car (5 sec tops) the light turned green. He got back out, looked at the light again, scratched his head, shrugged his shoulders, got in his car, and drove away. Our light then went green, but we sat through most of it trying to stop laughing and get a hold of ourselves.

  2. One day, in my old car (88.5 Escort Pony, light grey, no options) I was driving down a road with 3 friends. Suddenly out of nowhere, this huge bird swoops over the windshield, RIGHT across it, nearly touching it, and, with a squawk, deposits the BIGGEST bird shit I have ever seen in the upper corner, out of reach of my wipers. We all look at each other, then bust out laughing. I had to pull over to keep from wrecking.

3)One day last year I was skipping school with a bunch of friends. Finally all the friends broke up into 4 person groups, and went our seperate ways. About 1 pm we were in my old car (see above), my friend Missy driving (worst driver ever, big mistake), Jessica (can’t stand her now) in the passenger, Jeana (my sweetie pie! J/K we’re just friends. She’s my best friend thats a girl) behind the driver, and I in the rear passenger position. We were going down a dirt road at about 55, coming up on a oddly built bridge that, with enough speed, you could get a huge flying leap across. As we neared the bridge, I noticed a bunch of animals (big animals) alongside the road, 2 horses, a mule, and 2 minature donkeys. As we got closer I told Missy to slow the f^ck down. Right as we hit the bridge and started to take flight, the minature donkey broke out in a trot beside us. As it was running it cut across in front of us, and, to make fun of us, looked back and says “EEEE-HAW!” Sadly, as it looked back, it tripped. It started to go down, but Missy nailed it, right in the ass (haha). It doubled over, rolling head over hoof, about a dozen times, until it flopped sideways in a ditch. We were stunned. Missy got out, the only one, and went over to look at it, but lost it, and crouched, holding onto the door, alternating laughing and crying. Jessica just stared out her window in shock, and I tried to rouse Jeana from her game of pocket Tetris to show her what happened. We sat there debating what to do, till Missy decided (bright girl) to get our friend Cody to kill it. We went to Cody’s house, and they got out, and as I was getting out they were like “Stay in the car” so of course, I got out. My bumper was broken in half, scraping the ground in the middle. My grille was gone. And my hood was crumpled cleanly about 6" back, and about 3" high. I was pissed. I jumped straight up in the air and landed on the crease, instantly flattening it. I just stood on the hood fuming as they talked to Cody. He called his step-dad, who went with us to the site, and he sent us to call the cops (big decision… we were on State Line road between Mo and Ks… who to call? We called Mo. Ks has free-range laws). We went to Jon’s house (my best guy friend, Jessica’s brother) to call. When I told 911, they laughed for nearly 5 minutes. When we got back to the site, Missy’s dad was there. It ended up being the donkey owner’s fault, because he knew about the hole in the fence and neglected to fix it. We found a sizable chunk of my grille impaled in the donkey’s ass. The rest was on the ground. The Ford plate was covered with blood. They ended up putting the donkey down. Sadly, it was pregnant. Though I was pissed at the time, we now all smile knowingly whenever someone mentions the donkey story. And Missy’s sometimes nickname is “Missy: Donkey Slayer” Most people don’t believe me when I tell this story. But it makes a great pickup line… “So… my first car was wrecked by a pregnant miniature donkey… how about yours?”


We are the children of the Eighties. We are not the first “lost generation” nor today’s lost generation; in fact, we think we know just where we stand - or are discovering it as we speak.

Naked green boy in grass testing invisibility theories.

mama maroon


As a freelance web designer I have met my cohorts at a number of places. One such place was a big corporation that hired me to do a web site along with a guy I know that we will call Joe. Now Joe is a handsome dude and he struck up a relationship with a pretty lady that some executive wanted and decided to eliminate Joe from the picture. He made up a phony play by play about Joe goofing off and got him canned royally (even to the point of saying all his word was now theirs and they were not gonna pay for it).
Joe did not take this lightly and decided to use a very important business meeting to stage his revenge. He got a hold of the guys computer an hour before and sabotaged his presentation. I now present to you what was seen

The exec came to the podium and did a little spiel about how he would revolutionize the company with this great business plan.
The man turned on his computer to set up a powerpoint document he had nicely laid out. In the crowd of dignitaries and employees stood Joe and I in the very back (since we were not really allowed to be there as consultants but had snuck in anyway.)

The mans computer came on to a gutteral fart on the start up which was made worse by the junction he had attached to the speakers. This got a huge laugh from most of the crowd as the guy blushed. Next as he tried to access the powerpoint program it kept feeding a cache file of a netscape window featuring a website called animal love. The worst part of it was that the guy kept hitting the execution and it kept going to animal love with a lady in flaggranto with a rather happy looking donkey (did I tell you he had it hoioked up to a huge overscreen for all to see?). Finally he tried to manually type in the execution and instead the computer changed its background to Fuck Off Asshole and dumped several hundred windows of porn picture before totally freezing up. I (and a lot of people) were crying with laughter as the guy called off this meeting and told us to take a 5 minute break so he can fix this.

Joe?- Never got caught and I never talked. The guy was nicknamed HappyAss in honor of the picture behind his back

Hery life is cruel but revenge is sweet

I was living in the open barracks when stationed in San Antonio for Medic training. A fellow soldier had gotten so drunk (a big no-no) that he crashed out on the floor next to his bunk.

Cadre seargent walks in, stands right in front of the guy and wants to know what’s going on; we all tell him that the poor fellow is sick with the flu or something.

The soldier revives long enough to inch forward on his stomach and puke up a hot steaming mass of vomit all over the seargent’s highly-shined boots. We couldn’t contain ourselves, but you probably had to be there.

Souvenieeeeers, nov-elties, par-ty tricks

Okay, judging by the other humor here, this should go over well.

As I’ve said elsewhere, I work in a prison. A few years back one of our convicts was dying of multiple diseases (AIDS, tuberculosis, hepatitus, etc) and we were sending him out to a local hospital. Unfortunately before we could get him out of the jail, he died. Between performing CPR on a corpse, making a couple dozen phone calls, and filling out all the paperwork, it was not one of my better nights.
Anyway, whenever an incarcerated felon dies, you have to fingerprint the body for positive ID and perform an autopsy. We had a civilian, Vicki, whose job it was to do all out ID work, which included fingerprinting. Now unbeknownst to her, an officer had gone down to the hospital and fingerprinted the body already. Vicki came in in the morning and obviously had heard about the death and equally obviously was not looking forward to working with a corpse. Various people were ragging her about rigor mortis and such, so that by the time I saw her she was turning pretty green. I decided I should have some fun as well.
“So Vicki, I guess you heard what happened last night.”
“Yes, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“I called the coroner last night and he already came and took the body. He said he was going to do the autopsy first thing this morning. But don’t worry, I took care of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told him to cut off the fingers and put them in a baggie for you.”
She didn’t talk to me for three months.

Well, this doesn’t involve vomit or corpses, but I hope you like it anyway . . .

About ten years ago I witnessed a typical New York traffic jam, with a truck blocking an interesection so no one could move. A Middle Eastern looking cabbie in a turban leaned out of his cab and yelled to the truck driver, “You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ intersection!” The truck driver hollered at him, “Why doncha go back where ya came from?” To which the cabbie yelled back, “I can’t! You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ intersection!”

At a banquet in college. My boyfriend was leaving. He kisses me goodbye, in front of a few parents. I think it threw him for a loop, because he starts walking towards a window, thinking it was a door. Stops short, spins around, and runs smack into an old man. Joel, flustered, asks him “Have you seen my car?” just as everyone notices (beat) the man is BLIND, with dark glasses, cane, and all.

My guess was, he hadn’t seen Joel’s car. Or much of anything at all. I have never laughed so hard.

Where are we going?
And why am I in this handbasket?