I was standing alone at a wild party, and I imagined walking up to the loud, popular, drunk group and saying “How many of you would assume dolphins can hold their breaths longer than sloths?”
But I imagined silence, followed by me attempting to fill it with “Ummm, see, sloths can hold their breath for up to forty minutes. By slowing their heart rates. Dolphins need to come up for air after eight to twelve minutes. Interesting, huh?”
So I didn’t say it.
Until now, I guess…
(Johnny Carson Voice) “I did not know that!”
Ah. See, if my wife asked me that, I would probably give the absurdist answer I could think of like, “why, yes, you’d be the finest whore in Cook County, but you probably couldn’t keep up with those DuPage girls.” That’d be my way of answering a stupid question with a stupid answer.
“I think you’d be good at whatever you choose to do for a career.” is a better answer than “Sure, but you’ll have to up your game a bit.”
The context seems to be that he was disobdient in purposely not knocking up his ertshwile SIL. not his impromptu Bukkake
So his hot sister in law is just dandy? Asking for a uhhh friend.
In other words, prison rules.
I had a relative that was a volunteer firefighter, and I still remember him telling me that the worst part of smelling burning human flesh is that it smelled good.
Cats and dogs walk on tiptoe.
Been told that by some combat veterans as well.
Reminds me of the one time on a forum that had a fair contingent of Brits when one of the Americans referenced the Donner Party and most of the Brits inferred it to be a typo because of the proximity of “o” and “i” on the typical keyboard and its obscurity relative to British culture. We were amused.
Well, know your audience. I enjoyed hearing it.
I had an Uvulopalatoplasty, “a surgical procedure performed with the aim of reducing or eliminating snoring . It is an out-patient procedure, in which a laser is used to remove parts or all of the uvula at the rear of the mouth.”
The uvula is numbed and then the laser literally burns the flesh away. Dense smoke emerges - that smells exactly like barbecue. Exactly.
Minimal pain or discomfort, even later, but one of the weirder medical experiences of my life. Apparently the doctor’s assistant didn’t show up, so he had me hold the suction device that was needed to suck up the smoke so his could see where he was burning. He somehow didn’t take into account that I couldn’t see into the back of my throat, no could I feel the area, so I had no idea where exactly to point the thing. He kept yelling at me for not getting it right. OK, I got that he didn’t want to burn me accidentally, but dude, like this really was my first rodeo.
Worse, since that time, studies show that the procedure is not very effective against snoring, and may even make it worse.
Oh, right, technically true but shouldn’t say out loud: you shouldn’t tell a doctor with an active laser inside your mouth that he’s acting like a nitwit. I didn’t. I just never came back.
Well, they weren’t entirely wrong.
That was my first thought when I read this thread……just how old do you think we are? It’s 2022, do you think our grannies where hustling across the prairie in covered wagons?
Then I did the math. My maternal grandmother was born in 1880. That made me feel very old.
Hmm, my grandparents were all born in the 1900s. Some early in the 1900s, but…
My mother was the youngest child in a large family, and her mother was 48 when she was born. She was a surprise, I think, there was an 8 year gap between her and her next youngest sibling.
When I was a child, I thought aunts and uncles were always old people.
My mom was born in 1928.
Carrying on:
Actors just pretend to go to work
You’ve never actually seen your face*
You are always touching something
*And because you’ve only seen a reflection, you’re picturing your hair’s part - “don’t hit me Will; I ain’t talking ‘bout people with Jada’s look!” - on the wrong side of your head.
Most trees are almost entirely composed of non-living matter.
… duuude …
I can’t stop picturing all these truths intoned by the stoners I hung out with in college. Who all kind of sounded like Theodore “Ted” Logan after about 2 am (as the substances they were abusing got them to do some serious pontification, muh man… )
One the family stories from my maternal grandmother was on their migration from Indiana to Kansas, sitting on the tailgate of a covered wagon watching the landscape rolling by ever so slowly.