I didn’t have enough time to add that I actually said this rather softly, in a circle of chairs. I’m sure it was because I was afraid that my pun, triple and inspired as it was, would not be well-received.
I got the impression that only the 50% of folks seated closest to me actually heard me. Because everyone within that 50/50 median of proximity cracked up! 
One of my best friends used to like watching Trinity Broadcasting for the MST3K value.
They had several of us over one night to engage in mock the ministry night. Jan Crouch (http://taxdollars.freedomblogging.com/files/2008/08/crouches.jpg) was doing a teary, “I love Jesus so very very much,” song with her lavender hair and running mascara and I said, “Jesus! Having these people advocate for the Christian faith is like putting up pictures of herpes sores on the whorehouse door.”
It a good couple minutes before anyone was able to talk.
The Backstory:
We had decided to go to Ikea and buy a buttload of furniture. Their furniture, for those of you who don’t know, comes in boxes and you have to assemble the entire thing yourself, usually with an allen wrench. Because of this space saving method, the costs are much lower. I love the Swedes!
Anywhooo, we loaded up our econoline to absolute capacity with bedroom, dining room and an entertainment center. The only box that wouldn’t fit anywhere was a smaller box that was too big to sit on my lap for the 4 hour drive (we were visiting the area) and didn’t fit into any nook or cranny of the cardboard puzzle inside our cavenorous full sized van.
There was enough space between the topof boxes and the ceiling of the van to put this box, it had room to easily room. It was the smallest piece of furniture we bought, for the bedroom.
We leave Ikea, our van chugging slowly up the hill in rush hour traffic. Before we even get to the top of it, the traffic comes to a dead stop and Mr. Ujest has to hit the brakes. The one lone box that was not secure slid rapidly right at the back of my husband’s head. If I hadn’t reached out and blocked it, it would have hit him pretty hard.
" Holy CRAP! You were almost killed by a one-night stand!"
We giggle about it to this day.
Another one that happened a few weeks ago.
Background: Driving Up North in BFE Michigan, with my BFF going to her cottage in Nowheresville. We pass the Moose Lodge.
Discussed “What exactly do the Moose do?”
“Hide from their wives and drink?”
About a mile after that we pass the Fraternal Order of Eagles Lodge/Club, which every time we pass it, it is always packed.
Discussed, " What exactly is it that the Eagles do?"
“Fish fries, Bingo, Drink and hide from their wives?”
So I mention that my FIL became an Elk about two years before my husband and I were engaged, so we could get the hall for free. If you are an Elk, you can rent the hall free and just pay for food and booze. I mentioned that the women of the Elks club were called Elkettes.
“Elkettes?” My friend said like she had bitten into something yucky. " Who would want to be an Elkette? Tell you aren’t an Elkette? If you are I"ll have to de-friend you on Facebook."
" Nah, " Says I, " I’m not much of a joiner. I’m more of a Fuck-it."
She almost drove into a ditch she was laughing so hard.
I work for a toy company. It’s December, and we’re at a meeting. One of my co-workers, who is Chinese, starts handing out printouts for his presentation. “I have hand-outs for everyone. Merry Christmas!”
One of my other co-workers says, “I didn’t know Santa Claus was Chinese.”
“Of course he is,” I say, “Where do you think he gets all those toys?”
Here’s one I bit my lip on, instead of going ahead and saying it:
I was looking over the shoulder of a somewhat-younger female friend at an adult educational program. She was using Computer-Based Training to learn some geometry or trig. I noticed that there was a right triangle in the diagram with sides of 300 and 400 yards.
Now, the simplest pythagorean triple without a 0 involved is 3,4,5. That is, if a side of a RT is 3, and the other is 4, the hypoteneuse (long line formed by the legs) is 5.
To me, ignoring the (consistent) units and adjusting to another power of ten (300 instead of 3, and 400 for 4) is an automatic response like breathing. Your mileage may vary.
Yes, I’m a geeky nerd.
And so, I blurted the answer out. The answer she was clearly struggling with (in hindsight).
She quickly blurted out: YOU SUCK!
I really should have said:
“Yes, I’m great at that, too!”
My daughters were asking my husband about how long various sports games can last - innings, halfs, quarters, etc., and what they do in case of a tie. He explained that in basketball, it goes into overtime, double overtime, etc, until one team is ahead at the buzzer. He explained how it works in football. Then the older daughter asked if baseball games can end in a tie. I answered, “There’s no tying in baseball!” I guess it was more of a groaner.
My friend and I went to go see the movie The Descent a few years ago. Well, in the movie, there’s a scene where two friends are fleeing from the creatures, but the one character gets wounded and can’t go on, yet the creatures are coming to eat them. The wounded character asks her friend, much to the friend’s horror, to bash her head in with a rock, so she won’t have to suffer the fate of being eaten alive.
I turned to my friend and whispered, “Dood, I’d so do that for you.”
Back when I was in the army, captain came to me and told me to fix some sandbags in front of the guardhouse.
I did just that, but captains are rarely satisfied with their sargents.
When he came back to inspect the job, he took a look at the sandbags, turned around to face me and shouted to my face : ’ Do you call THAT (pointing with his thumb over his shoulder) carrying out my orders? Those sandbags look just like my wife’s P*ssy!"
With a straight face I looked over his shoulder and said " Sorry about that Sir, you are absolutely correct" and moved to rearrange the sandbags.
Took him a while to understand what happened, too!
I’m not as clever as my brother, so I have to tell one of his. A couple of months ago, I got laryngitis, and squeaked to him, “Oh no! I can’t talk! Isn’t that terrible?”
Took him maybe a nanosecond to say, “Terrible for who?”
She’s a bit of a slapper and she walked in the pub. Dangling from her arm was a bag made of Scottish cloth.
My mate: Tartan bag
Me: Together
On a trip down to Georgia, twelve of us crammed into two vans linked by CB radios. I was navigator for van one, a huge hulk of a guy was nav for two, and I kept ragging on him for his map-based decisions. At one point, we hear, “Matey, why do you have to keep taking pot shots at my intellect?”
I pause for just a moment.
“I dunno. I like a small target?”
The laughs continued when he rushed the van at the next pit stop.
aaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhh
We were standing on a site critical to the canal in Panama. The general’s helicopter landed and we gathered around. He looked down the concrete, far below was a pool of water with alligators.
“Paul, how many alligators are down there?”
“Sir, three alligators in peacetime, in a contingency we will have six additional from the Florida National Guard.”
-He liked that one.
“Paul, did we get approval (from a reluctant subordinated command)?”
“Sir, friction is heat, heat is light. They caused enough friction to feel the heat, they have now seen the light.”
-He wrote that one down.
Maybe I’m really slow tonight, but I just don’t get it. Please help.
“tart and bag.”
A little bit like when a particularly wearisome member of the Country Party in Australia bellowed, “I’m a Country member!” A government minister retorted, “Yes, I remember.”
Now I’m even more baffled than I was before, although I now know that tartan bag sounds like tart and bag. Oh, well, maybe it’s a British thing. Thanks.
So this guy was going on and on about how miserable Soviet life was, and how everything was shitty, and finishes up with “…and the Russians have never made one half-way decent automobile!”
“Well, what about the four-door Dostoyevsky?”
Hint: “-ry member” sounds like ‘remember’.
We were talking about intertextuality in an English poetry class, and my fantastically animated prof exclaimed “It’s called Google! Look it up!”
And I deadpanned “Where the fuck would you look up Google?”
Twice at a comedy club, as an audience member, both times as the comedian was having fun with audience members.
Once: Comedian notes that I am with my male roommate, and there is a table of four gals beside us. He starts talking to us about our chances that we might hook up with them later. So, after talking about this, he asks me what my name was. I replied “Dick!” in my “Nick the Dick” voice from “Bachelor Party.” Hilarity ensued.
Don’t remember that comedian’s name.
Different time: Comedian is asking audience members what they do for a living.
Comedian: “So what do you do?”
Me: “I’m a write.”
Comedian: “Oh, what kind of writing.”
Me: “Mostly medical writing.”
Comedian: “Well, can you tell me about something you’ve written lately?”
Me: “The last thing was about contributions to medicine of Dr. Josef Mengele.”
That got the biggest laugh that night. The second comic, whose last name I don’t remember, was “Billiam” something, and I think he’s a writer or producer for some sitcom.
