[QUOTE=Anastasaeon]
“The Hilton sisters have arrived.”
[QUOTE]
Heh, reminds me of a similar quip. Was picking up a friend from the hospital. After clearing her to leave, I was sent to retrieve the car while some family members helped her move gingerly through the lobby. The curb was fiull of vehicles unloading, and it wasn’t immediately obvious that I’d be able to pull the car up to the door.
“Where shall we meet you?” one family member said, just before I departed. I canned the area for a moment. Off to the side, a perky blonde in her late teens stood, snapping bubble gum, wearing some kind of bare-midriff-and-tight-shorts getup.
“Over by the Britney,” I suggested, and fetched the car.
I have one that just happened this past weekend. My cousin was ordained as a priest on Saturday, and on Sunday, my family attended his first Mass. It was mostly adults with one five-year-old, my oldest cousin’s son J., and my 8 month old nephew. The 8-month-old was extremely well-behaved, played and was quiet through the whole Mass.
J started getting fidgety near the end of the two hour Mass, right in the middle of communion as my cousin was saying the blessing. My dad had out the video camera and was taping the blessing, J in the frame, when J.'s mom admonished him to stop fidgeting and be quiet. He looked at her indignantly, and loudly informed her:
“BUT I HAVE A WEDGIE!”
He was PISSED that she wasn’t letting him pick it, either. Of course, those around him found it hysterical. (We told my priest cousin about it later, and he laughed, too.)
I drink carbonated-caffinated beverages for the “pep” is gives me. This morning I had just finished chugging down a 20 oz. bottle before going to work in a “no food” zone.
Me: Good morning Graduate Student.
GS: Good morning Mouse_Maven. How are you.
Me: BURP! :eek: Uh, much better now. Thanks.
Another thread featuring our own Inigo Montoya just reminded me of this one. If you watch even a moderate amount of TV, you’ve probably seen the commercial for Crestor, an anti-cholesterol medicine, that features Mandy Patinkin, the actor who played Inigo Montoya.
A couple weeks ago, my roommate and I were watching TV, and that commercial came on. In her best Spanish accent, my roommate said, “Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You have high cholesterol. Prepare to die!”
I dropped off two paintings for framing yesterday. The subject matter is kinda “dark”. The framer was putting the date on the reciept, 6/6/06 and looking back and forth between the art and the date, he giggled nervously. Then he asked for my phone number, which is 66*-*666. He got a little pale and his hands were shaking as he handed me the paperwork.
Elza B’s story reminded me of this old family story from the mid-70s: when my cousin made his First Communion, it was at a church that rang handbells after the consecration of the host. This is a traditional practice, and was not done at the time in our parish church, which was very progressive-post-Vatican-II-type-70s-modern. So my baby brother (about 3 years old at the time) had never experienced it before. All the faithful are kneeling, eyes shining at their little second graders receiving the Holy Sacrament for the first time, the priest raises the host and intones, “This is My Body which shall be given up for you.”, genuflects, the bells are rung, and my brother’s piping treble is heard throughout the hushed church:
WHAT THE *HELL *WAS THAT?
Needless to say, there is definitely a bustle in our pew as my mother simultaneously dies of embarassment and tries to melt into the floor with my young brother. My dad and I are trying mightily not to laugh out loud. The priest rises from his genuflection, gives our general area the stank-eye, and continues with the prayer of consecration, raises the chalice and intones the consecrating prayer, and yes, the bells are rung again. The entire church holds its breath, and you hear:
WHAT THE mmmph
The kid had comic timing, you had to give him that.
One summer’s day in SoCal, driving with windows open because of the warm weather, I had pulled up to a stoplight. A car pulls up next to me and leaning out of the passenger window is a very large Rottweiler. I look over at the dog, who gives me the evil eye and a very small “woof!”
I reply, “Aww, your mom was a cat!”
The dog goes psycho-ballistic! Barking, snarling, teeth bared, drool flying! The light turns green and as I drive off, the driver of the other car is still trying to control his psycho dog.
Note to self: Never insult the parentage of a Rottweiler unless you are safely in a car!
My girlfriend’s sister got married Saturday. On Sunday, the happy couple left for a short honeymoon, leaving their seven month old son Hunter with his grandmother (my girlfriend’s mom). We went for a little while out Sunday afternoon, taking Hunter with us.
I don’t have any kids. My friends don’t have any kids. I really haven’t been around kids since I was one. I’ve got dogs, but that’s as close as I get.
Anyway, we’re walking into this store and I’m carrying Hunter. As I approach the door, I see a woman standing inside with a baby in her arms, about the same size as Hunter. And then, I see just how much I’ve gotten used to having dogs, and how little I know about having kids. I think to myself:
At work since we have a lot of buildings spread out we have little shuttles to drive us around. I was in one headed to another building for a meeting, we passed a city bus stop and standing there was this east indian guy, in his mid to late 40’s i’d guess. Wearing a yellow polo shirt, some khaki pants, and a tall silk top hat and carrying a cane. Just standing there like nothing was unusual waiting for the bus.
I told my wife about it later and she said “He probably came home with it one day and his wife said ‘Where are you ever going to wear a tophat?’”
I went to a Japanese restaurant for lunch last summer. The waitress, with a bit of an accent, takes my order and asks what side dish I’d like.
Waitress: Would you like a super salad?
Me: Gee, that sounds tasty. I wonder what’s super about it. Yes, please.
Waitress: Super salad?
Me: Right, super salad.
Waitress: (exasperated) SUPER salad?
Me: What’s her problem? Yes!
Waitress: Glares at me and rolls her eyes. SOUP or SAL-AD?
Me: Oh…salad, please.
One from my job in a doctor’s office: A few years ago, I was in the room with an elderly lady, and the doctor comes in. He tells her in a very loud voice, as she was hard of hearing, “I have another patient whose husband recently passed away. She has a pair of his old hearing aids that she’d be willing to give to you.”
The old lady promptly responds with, “Oh, no thanks. I’ve been with my current dentist for years.”
That one had me laughing all day, and the doctor too.
I used to work in a truck stop, dealing daily with the kind of clientale a truck stop attracts. Redneck heaven.
One day a man walked over from the restaurant. No, that doesn’t quite describe it. A man processed over from the restaurant. A portly gentleman, wearing an expensive suit with a diamond tie tack and I bet he had cufflinks and collar buttons, too. He also had a heavy floor length fur coat thrown over his shoulders, and a big fur hat. A Russian nobleman-in-exile slumming it in a mid-Mo truck stop? Who knows. Not the kind of customer we were used to. “Hello!” I greeted him. He inclined his head regally but didn’t deign to answer.
Sniffing daintily and every now and then wafting a fine white handkerchief back and forth in front of his nose, he stalked, dignified, up and down the aisles of the convenience store, looking like a live demonstration of a “What’s Wrong With This Picture?” puzzle. The hanky wafting was what almost did me in; every time he did it I’d have to duck behind the counter and giggle. When he’d finished his constitutional he went back to the restaurant.
The truckers that were in the store managed to wait until he left to look at each other and burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the clothes, it was the pompous way he paced slowly up and down each aisle, wafting his hanky and glancing bored-ly at the merchandise. A total “WTF?” moment. To put it in perspective, I was less taken aback by the woman who showed her boobs to the janitor right in front of me and then demanded a dollar; that behavior I was used to. Foreign dignitaries in fur coats? Not so much.
First: Some years ago, an ex-boyfriend of mine & I were “recreating”. We were fairly enthusiastic about it, and in our exertions he managed to nearly knock me off the bed. Now, we had earlier in the day been watching Real Genius (a favorite movie), and without missing a beat, somehow (after he’d caught me & we were back on the bed), I looked up at him and said, “Would you say that was a “design” problem, or a “launch” problem?” I seem to recall we became ‘done’ at that point - both of us were laughing too hard to continue.
Second: When my daughter was an infant, my ex-husband and I were going to a holiday potluck get-together at a friend’s apartment. This friend lived upstairs, and it was very cold out, so we were trying to make it all in one trip. I had the baby carrier, the diaper bag, and my purse (at least) and my ex had several additional items (gifts for white elephant exchange, etc.) The baby was bundled up, so we set the (warm) casserole I had made for the pitch-in by my daughter’s feet in the baby carrier, so I could get it upstairs. Without thinking about it, the first thing I said when I walked in the room was, “Would someone please take the casserole off the baby?”
I remembered that once, in sixth grade, I went to a state whose name rhymes with “best mirginia” and we were driving to a school event.
I heard some guys in the seat behind me laughing as we were turning around. I thought nothing of it until they said “look at the sign, we’ll pass it in a second.”
it literally said
and at the bottom
I argued that they must have meant something else (later realizing that it could’ve been “fill dirt” until I realized that one of the people in the van still had a picture from it. His mother had let him bring her expensive camera for pictures of the school event we were at, and he telling me later that the only picture he took was of the sign and she was angry.
My current assignment is in a factory, in an industrial area. We go to lunch to the local restaurant - cheap, large plates; if you say you want your steak with salad but forget to say “without fries” they bring steak, salad and fries in a bigger plate.
Anyway, I usually walk back to work and I pass several factories with guard dogs. One of them’s a barker. The first time I went by, he started barking and I faced him, fists on hips, and said “WHAT?” He was so surprised that I wasn’t slinking away rapidly like everybody else that he just meeped meekly and did a slink himself…
All I have to do to stop his barking is look at him hands on hips. Wonder if the factory’s owners know that trick.
