This is not about me, personally, but about my brother and my dad. It’s a pretty good 'un. My dad has a painting business, and his practices are rather unorthodox. He’s got quite the temper.
So, one day they’re on some job and my dad gets to yelling. It doesn’t matter where he is, he will yell. They do jobs in schools and professional buildings and he still yells, just simply does not give a fuck. And when he yells, he’s
pretty scary, even to ten guys standing around. And they pretty much
know they better shut up or he might hit somene, or fire someone, you just don’t
know. And those dudes are dumb, but they aren’t dumb enough to screw with my dad, the signature on their generous paychecks.
So, my brother says one day my dad starts yelling and all the guys are
kinda standing around not quite knowing what to do. And my dad sees
this bucket sitting on the floor, so he kicks it, you know, for
emphasis. But his foot gets stuck in the bucket, so he’s kinda
jumping around with this bucket on his foot, all the while screaming
at the top of his lungs to the crew. And of course, he would kill
them if they laughed, but you can imagine trying to keep a straight
face when someone like that has his foot caught in a bucket. Sheer
physical comedy.
My brother said as soon as he left they all just melted down laughing. He
said they were all trying so hard not to laugh that their faces were
getting red and tears were forming in their eyes. hahaha. My dad
probably knew he was being an ass, but once he’s yelling, he can’t
just walk away until he’s done.
My most vivid anecdote was Christmas Eve about 10 years ago. I was in my teens, and my sister was in her early twenties. We were in church watching them light the Advent candles, and for the first time, my church stopped using the beautiful brass candle snuffers/wicks to light them, and instead used a plastic and metal electric match. “click, click, whoosh…” My sister and I looked at each other, and I turned to her and said “Whoa…electric Christmas.” We both started laughing, and of course, because we weren’t supposed to be laughing, it was much MUCH funnier, and became even more funny the longer we tried to stifle our laughter. We ended up spurting and laughing all the way through “Little Town of Bethlehem.” I was laughing so hard I was crying. The comment wasn’t very funny, but at the time, we couldn’t contain ourselves. I think I got about 5 elbows from my mom telling us to shut up.
My sister’s brother in law is an old stuffed shirt, and
my sister was kind of old when she started to drive.
So, one day about six years ago or so I was visiting my sister and so was her sister and brother in law (the old stuffed shirt) when sis and I decided to go to the store. So, we got into the car and sis backs out of the garage into the driveway. She was doing this very smoothly and, to be honest, had improved greatly since the last time I had ridden with her. Never one to wait for a compliment, she asked me “Aren’t I getting to be a great driver?” when, as if on cue, she backed right into the car of the old stuffed shirt. So, you know, we had to go is so she could confess and it was just so funny I laughed right in their faces. For a really long time.
Sitting in a bar/cathouse in Guatemala City with a bunch of the guys on our (military) team.
An oldtimer on the team solemnly raises his glass and says “Here’s to the Guadalcanal Seabees.”
Because of my intoxicated state and proximity to the jukebox, I thought he said “Here’s to the Guatemala Seabees”, which I thought so ridiculous I guffawed loudly.
The guy leaps off his bar stool, pulls a knife out of his pocket, and heads my way. It took two team members and three whores to keep him off me while I made my escape.
I’ve laughed at the wrong time and in the wrong place more times than I can count. Mostly in church, but I go to a very relaxed church where we laugh a lot anyway, but sometimes I start laughing so hard, I can’t stop.
Last year before Christmas, we were singing a Christmas-y song, and it was obviously one that 4-year-old Lydia knows very well, because she was singing along, very loudly. And very out of tune. I started giggling, and every time she belted out another word, I laughed harder. I made the mistake of looking over at my friend Lynette, who’s just as bad as I am. So we’re both cracking up, and I looked at my friend Martha, and she was looking away and trying not to laugh, which made me laugh even harder. By the end of the song, I was just about dying, and a lot more people were laughing.
And then there was the time at my great-grandmother’s funeral when the preacher (who didn’t know her from Adam and gave a one-size-fits-all “y’all are going to hell if you don’t repent right now” sermon) kept saying when we die, we’ll “put off our morality and put on immorality.” So I did, and it was good advice.
I’ll save the story about our pastor and the leaf blower for another time. And our “Magic Fingers” massaging love seat.
Grandfather-in-law had just died. As a show of support about 10 of us in the family went with the Grandmother-in-law to the funeral home and then to the cemetary to pick out and finalize the funeral. In the funeral home, one job was to pick the headstone. So, all of us (and the employee) go into a room with various headstone designs on the floor and walls. I’m randomly wandering noticing they all appear to be random John Doe type names. Then, I look up and notice one that says :
Tommy Lasorda
B: Sept 22, 1927 D: Apr 13, 2006
This is the point when I start to lose it. They have a headstone of perhaps the most random celebrity they could pick. And, this is in Georgia. It’s not like I’m at a funeral home next to Dodger Stadium. And, they went so far as to pick a real death date. And then, to make matters more hilarious, I notice that his picture is also etched into the headstone. At this point, I have completely lost it. My wife comes over looking sad and angry at my display and all I can do is manage to point at Tommy’s headstone. She lost it as well.
Needless to say, Deathpool 2006, I know who I’m picking first.
My sister married a great guy. Really. Everyone loves him, he treats her right, our families love each other. Mr. Right.
At the wedding, right at the pivotal “Man & Wife” moment, the enormity of the situation must of hit him or something because he was overcome with emotion. He leaned over, hugged my sister, buried his head in her shoulders and sobbed. Loudly. A very touching moment, for sure.
Fortunately, everybody assumed me and my wife had been crying instead of laughing like drunken monkeys.
Another time we were attending a play written by a friend of a friend (who had recently died). Everybody in the audience thought the play was moving and amazing and we just weren’t seeing it. Of course everybody else in the audience was somehow connected to the drama department of our college, and personally knew those involved in the production of the play.
We knew the author guy too, thought he was cool, were sad he died, etc. However, the play got to some heavy subject matter (not particularly effectively/plausibly portrayed, IMO) and everybody in the audience buy me and my wife was in tears. Of course that was about the funniest thing EVAR, so there we were cracking up silently while the guy onstage has his marriage falling apart because he kept getting molested as a child.
Was there something wrong with us or was it everybody else? It’s like they threw a crying party and we weren’t invited.
A bit more mundane than most of the experiences here.
While I was in the Navy at daily Quarters the ship’s Plan of the Day would be read, including a list of what movies would be on the site TV system that day.
One day the list of movies included the following:
Iron Eagle III Not Without My Daughter
Only I heard it as
Iron Eagle III: Not Without My Daughter
I lost it completely and pissed the Hell out of my LCPO, who could not understand why I found the idea of Sally Field strafing Iraqi courts in an F-15 so hilarious.
A bit more mundane than most of the experiences here.
While I was in the Navy at daily Quarters the ship’s Plan of the Day would be read, including a list of what movies would be on the site TV system that day.
One day the list of movies included the following:
Iron Eagle III Not Without My Daughter
Only I heard it as
Iron Eagle III: Not Without My Daughter
I lost it completely and pissed the Hell out of my LCPO, who could not understand why I found the idea of Sally Field strafing Iraqi courts in an F-15 so hilarious.
It seems that I’m the first to post a story that is sexual in nature – surely a Doper first for me?
My first boyfriend (in college) with whom I had an intimate relationship… well, he was a nice guy but I did find him boring at times. Also, he was, at times, somewhat less than stellar in the sack (we were both beginners, I don’t hold it against him, he tried, chemistry just wasn’t there.)
So, he had put some stuff on the ceiling above his bed, posters and what not.
So, we were doing the deed and I was… not very into it to tell you the truth. Not in pain/unhappy… just not into it. And my mind was wandering. I was looking up at the ceiling decorations and noticed that one of them was a small picture of King George III, which was odd in and of itself. But then I started thinking “lie still and think of England” which soon lead to uncontrollable snickering… and BF withdrawing in somewhat of a huff.
Amazingly, he didn’t dump my ass cold after that incident, though it would have saved me a lot of trouble if he had.
Is it awful that it still makes me snicker thinking about it?
Opening night at a friend-in-law’s play. I was sitting with my boyfriend, his friend (her husband was playing the lead) and another friend. It was a serious play from mid 1800s Sweden (IIRC) and just not a happy play at all. Midway through the first act, the scene is that the lead actor, our friend, goes offstage in a huff to start building something out of wood. The other actors are on stage while we hear the sound effects of our friend going up the stairs and shutting the door. The sound effects continue with him saw a piece of wood. The sawing doesn’t stop. For about 5 minutes straight all we hear is sawing and at this point my boyfriend turns to me and asks “how big is that piece of wood?”. You know that internal giggle that makes you sweat and convulse? At that point, the wife turns and asks us what’s funny. He told her and then she couldn’t stop giggling too. We were pretty relieved that she got the humor of it all too.
I do this all the time. It’s mostly my son’s fault. If he says something funny at an inappropiate time, instead of reprimanding him, I cackle.
At a my BIL’s wedding, my son was 2 and upon seeing the bride’s aunt for the first time, (she’s very tall and was wearing a yellow suit and glasses that made her eyes seem large), he pointed and said “BIGBIRD!”
She hasn’t spoken to me since.
At a relative’s funeral, my son kept stage whispering, “THE END”, during a very long eulogy.
I have only myself to blame for this one:
At Thanksgiving a couple of years ago, my elderly MIL declared, “It’s all good”. I guess she was talking about the dinner, but this was when people were using that as slang. And I had this image of my little bitty MIL decked out in Hip-Hop gear and saying “It’s all good”. I should also mention that when I try to supress laughter, it creates the less desirable affect of me involuntarily blowing my nose. :rolleyes:
Last year my mother and I went to the Christmas service at the local house o’ god. As is traditional, they had kids telling the masses about the birth of christ–you know, the Christmas story. Except… it was so. Bad. Not only was there much mumbling and embarrassed presenting, but the version of the story was unintentionally hilarious; there were so many arbitrary reasons for things happening, and a seemingly random chain of events. It was just awful. Mom and I (we are so bad) couldn’t help ourselves from poking some fun, quietly of course. She started to guffaw softly, then louder, and a little louder…
I had to punch her in the kidney to get her to stop
Funeral mass where I was trying hard not to sob. One of the deceased’s daughters was doing a reading from Psalms and she misspoke, saying: “I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your cook and your staff shall comfort me.”
I leaned over and said to my mother, “Ah, the Valley of Death Spa and Health Resort.”
Long, long ago, I used to work at a dude ranch. One day, an old friend of mine came up to go on a trail ride with me. She didn’t have much riding experience, so I put on her this old gentle swayback who wouldn’t run if a pack of wolves were chasing him.
My friend was a little nervous at first, but after we headed off down the trail - walking the whole way with me in the lead - she settled down.
We got about a quarter mile from the stable when I heard this thud and when I turned around, my friend was laying in a mud puddle, face all scrunched, struggling to get up, and missing one tennis shoe.
“What happened?” I asked incredulously. The saddle had not swung over. There were no branches nearby to knock her out of the saddle.
And then I started LAUGHING. Uncontrollable, HA HA HA laughter - which, incidentally, made my friend really mad.
But I couldn’t help myself.
I got down off my horse to make sure she was alright of course, and to help her out of the mud puddle. Through the whole thing, her horse stood right next her, munching on a bush, not at all interested in what was going on or in returning to the stable. His reins were swinging in the breeze. And she had no idea what had happened. She said that one minute she was on the horse; the next minute she wasn’t.
We never did find her other shoe.
And she never went horseback riding with me again.
