“I’ve been making a lot of Freudian slips lately,” a man says casually to his friend.
“Like what?” asks his buddy.
“Well, last week I asked the train conductor for two pickets to Tittsburgh.”
“I did something similar the other day,” says the friend. “My wife and I were having breakfast, and instead of saying, ‘Honey, please pass the butter,’ I said, ‘You bitch, you ruined my life!’”
I don’t understand this…Isn’t the first a spoonerism, rather than a Freudian slip?
Sorry, I’ll slink back to my corner now…
I think the joke, properly told, specifies that the ticket seller had big breasts.
21 years ago I was filling out the application to join a fraternal organization. One of the questions was “Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?” I laughed at the absurdity of that question in the 1980s and answered:
“Nyet.”
Apparently that answer held up my application in committee for several months. I was asked about it when I was called in to interview with the top brass.
I’ve been a member for 21 years now.
Years ago I was a cashier at a movie theatre called the Sack Paris. When we answered the phone, we were to answer it “Hello, Sack Paris.” One day I decided to toy with my manager by answering “Hello, Sack Nigeria.” Of course I did this before I pressed the line button on the phone, as I didn’t want the caller to hear me say that.
And naturally, just as I said it, two things happened simultaneously. One was that I noticed that the line button was, in fact, pressed. The other was the very confused voice in the receiver.
I got asked that same stupid question when I joined the carpenters union in 1989. I asked the shop boss about it and he said that they were told to leave the question in just in case some McCarthy type comes back in to power.
A couple of months ago I stopped at a convenience store for a couple of beers … the cashier LOOKED and sounded like a man…i mean REALLY looked and sounded like a man. The name tag read Michelle…“Funny,” I said “you don’t look like a Michelle”…“Sir, I am a female” was the reply…
Still haven’t been back in there…what a doink I can be.
tsfr
When I was in college, I took an education class that had to do with Special Education. In that class we discussed the basics of what Special Ed is and also learned about various disabilities.
We had a chapter on the different type of hearing impairments. After we had read it, the instructor asked the class, “Ok. Before we move on, are there any questions about hearing impairments?”
I tried to keep my mouth shut, but somewhere within the depths of my soul it just came out before my brain’s edit circuit could do anything to stop it.
I said, “I’m sorry. What?”
The teacher repeated herself… and the whole class burst out laughing… and I turned about a hundred shades of red, but that was darn funny.
In my family, we joke that instead of a silver spoon we were each born with a foot in our mouth.
Years back, one of my sisters was sitting in the lunch room at work with a group of coworkers. She noticed that one of the women seemed to have her toes scrunched up in her shoes: the toe box looked flat and empty and she was idly pressing the sole of her shoes on the floor and bending that part up.
My sister, without thinking, starts to tease her about having no toes. Her coworkers egged her on and, ignoring the poor woman’s protestations, she took off her shoe. You can see where this is going…
The woman had no toes. :eek:
I’m driving with my friend in Ft. Lauderdale and see a hearing aid store coming up ahead.
Flander: “Hey, Jason. Check out mumble mumble mumble.”
Jason: “What?”
Flander: “I said check out that hearing aid store!”
I nearly pissed myself.
I have a co-worker who is black (I’m white). I happened to run into her and her 9 year-old daughter at a restaurant fairly far away from work. We made small talk “oh I didn’t know you lived over here on the other side of the bay, etc.”
I told her exactly where I lived (“near the airport”) and her daughter shouts out “Oh, you live near Cracker Country.” I laugh, not quite sure what to say. Her mom has this mortified look frozen on her face, and she finally sputters out “oh no, CRACKER BARREL honey, he lives near the Cracker Barrel” and starts going on about how they love eating there, etc.
I had to ask her to help me up off the floor b/c I was laughing so hard. The look on her face was classic.
“With any luck, I will have survived the coming zombie apocalypse in my mountaintop retreat.”
<silence>
“Don’t take it personally, but if I see you coming, I will have to shoot you in the head.”
Not really. I wish.
Years ago, when one of my co-workers took me to meet a client, he held out his hand and said, “Hi. You must be [insert name].”
Without thinking (obviously), I responded with a line from Real Genius, “I sure hope so! I’m wearing his underwear!”
He never spoke to me again.
Also, having grown up in a house with humor books, some dating back to Vaudeville days, I saw many straight lines wherever I went. Being a waiter and bartender gave me more than ample opportunity to take advantage of them:
“Um…excuse me. There’s a fly in my shrimp.”
[looking around conspiratorially] “Not so loud! Everybody’ll want one!”
(after a very long 3 seconds, her enormous boyfriend cracked up. whew!)
(while talking about a local road that had an agressive deer which would ram cars that were going too slowly):
(me): “Well, you know how to stop a deer from charging, right?”
(them): “How?”
“Take away its credit card.”
Then I started getting ballsy.
“Excuse me. Do you have any house wines?”
“Yes, ma’am, we do. As a matter of fact, my personal favorite is ‘I don’t wanna beeee heeerrre!’”
And my favorite one:
Stereotypical frat boy sits down at the bar.
“Hey. Do y’all serve Zombies here?”
“Yes sir, we serve anybody. What would you like to drink?”
(looking at me like I’m the stupid one): “A zombie.”
I was interviewing for a job in a large company with offices on both coasts. I would be working in NYC but my boss would be in LA. I had phone interviewed several times with the person who would be my boss. Then she asked me to come into the NYC office and have a sitdown with the HR person there. We chatted a little, real low-key interview. Finally at the end, she said to me that she wasn’t sure why she was interviewing me as she didn’t have a role in the decision making process.
My reply
“I think she just wanted you to see if I was an axe murder or something.”
She laughs.
So I have to push it.
“Like I would use an axe. I mean in NYC its impossible to even find a quality axe.”
No I didn’t get the job.
But not for that comment.
Was it Oscar Wilde who was asked if he was a practicing homosexual, and he replied “My dear boy, I happen to be perfect at it”?
I’m the Master of the Inappropriate myself. I was with a friend and we went to see his brother’s Christian acting troupe do a performance, then got together at an Appleby’s afterwards. The guy who played Jesus said he was leaving early for a date, and as he left, I said “See you in three days.” One of the other troupe members was staring at me like I had either said something really blasphemous or something really funny, and he couldn’t decide which.
I was with my gf and a bunch of her friends in her living room watching the local news, and there was a report of a fire which destroyed an apartment building. They were interviewing a teen girl who lived there about the incident, with smoke billowing from the charred remains of the apartment in the background, and she was saying stuff in the typical brainless teenage manner, such as “and it was, like…” and “and I was like…” and “I mean, whatever…” I mimicked her voice and whined “It was such a bummer!” My gf’s friends looked at me with loathing.
Recently at work, I overhead some cube neighbors talking about Halloween costumes, and how one of them thought of going as Michael Jackson. So I blurted out, “You know what K-Mart and Michael Jackson have in common? Boys’ underwear half off!”
Complete silence.
My entire department was gathering in the conference room for our MMM - Monday Morning Meeting. While waiting for everyone to show up, we were all idly chatting, and the big boss said something smartass about me never doing any work or something. I told him, “Fuck you!” with a big smile on my face. I am notorious for having a potty-mouth, but I was mortified that I had said that! Most of the guys didn’t even talk like that! Thank Og he thought it was funny!
That was remembered and reminisced about for many years… :eek:
A friends’ brother, Richard, had this annoying habit of saying “It’s all good!” to pretty much anything, which led to the whole group of friends replying (often in unison) “Shut up, Richard!”
Frosh week, I’m going out to dinner with a bunch of people I just met, and one of them replies to something with “It’s all good!”
To which I automatically replied “Shut up, Richard!”
Of course, the guy’s name was Richard. It just had to be, didn’t it?
Luckily my boyfriend was there, and he knew the original joke, so the new Richard accepted my apology once we’d both explained (through our laughter!) He took it well.
Similar story.
We were at the lake, had a nice camp set up. Some guys we didn’t know decided to hang out with us since we had shade.
Anyway, one of the guys has a big bag of weed in his sock. Nobody mentioned it until out of the blue he asks me if have a joint. I told him he ought to roll one up, he has the big ol’ bag of weed in his sock.
It wasn’t a bag of weed. It was a huge growth or tumor or something on his ankle, shaped like a rolled up baggie of weed.
When I worked for my good friend, and hung out with his family, one of his son’s friends shot himself to death. His son worked PT with us and was playing Snood with me looking on. Things went south in the Snood round and he did the only logical thing. I concurred: “Yeah, kill yourself.”
[When another kid in their school killed himself, and their mom told me he hung himself, I did manage to restrain myself from saying “it’s ‘hanged’”.]
I mentioned on the boards how my friend’s daughter died of the MRSA bug in her lungs. Shortly after, I went to the football game of the son of a mutual friend. It was a bunch of little kids so I wanted to shout the most hardcore thing I could think of, incongruous with a gaggle of kiddies playing ball: “Rip his lungs out!”
OK, this one requires a little set up. Our neighborhood has loads of outdoor cats that are always around when the weather is nice. So we play this game where whenever we walk somewhere the first one to see a cat shouts out a description of the cat, and we keep score.
One time we were walking along, and my wife saw a black cat in the open doorway of a house. Simultaneously an African American woman stepped out on the porch, just in time for my wife to point and yell “BLACK!!!” The woman gave us a triple-take and stared at us as we slinked away.