Category Archives: am i the only one who thinks this is funny?

Gigglesnort of the week – 10/5/2009

I follow Jenny The Bloggess. She is butter. Butter I tell you. She is death by butter. Before the chorus of The Hell? hits the comments, let me explain. Chefs always say cooking with butter is awesome. So by calling The Bloggess butter, I’m professing her total AWESOMENESS! I shit you not.

I also follow another blog that Jenny’s involved with, Good Mom/Bad Mom. This one has some funny shit too, even if the Houston Chronicle tries to contain her awesomeness. You CANNOT contain The Bloggess! Anyway, while reading a recent post, a commenter (TC) provided this week’s gigglesnort:

What I wanna know is, why the fuck didn’t Santa leave THAT doll under my Christmas Tree? I was screwed.

Rock on Bloggess and all your awesome followers!

Gigglesnort of the week

Mondays are rapidly becoming work avoidance days, so I’m getting caught up on my to do list from yesterday.

Many of you are asking, “WTF is a gigglesnort? A lot of my friends can tell you just exactly what it is. A gigglesnort is something that is so amazingly funny, so outrageously funny, so laugh-out-loud funny that it causes me to snort. And it’s no itty bitty snort that leaves you wondering whether or not you really heard it. It’s loud. There’s no mistaking EXACTLY what is and EXACTLY where it’s coming from (i.e. me). And I want to share the things that make me gigglesnort (or come really close to it). Cuz I don’t wanna be alone. I KNOW there is someone else out there that will react just as I do. You know who you are.

So to start it all off an email I received this past week from a friend:

A professor at the University of North Carolina was giving a lecture on ‘Involuntary Muscular Contractions’ to his first year medical students. Realizing this was not the most riveting subject, the professor decided to lighten the mood slightly. He pointed to a young woman in the front row and asked, “Do you know what your asshole is doing while you’re having an orgasm?” She replied, “Probably deer hunting with his buddies.”

It took 45 minutes to restore order in the classroom.

Disclaimer: I did some research so that I could properly credit the source, but did not find it at the time this was posted. If anyone comes across it, let me know and I will update this post. Thank you!

Dancing in the street? Maybe not today.

It’s raining. The first big fall rain of the year.

Not that sprinkly shit that decides to tease everyone with the possibility of a temperature drop, but then says “PSYCH!” and stops leaving us hot AND wet. Not from the rain, though, but from the following muggi-ness that hangs afterwards.

Afternoon rain reminds me of another afternoon, a freakin’ million years ago (a.k.a. high school). I can’t remember what time of the year it was (cuz it was a freakin’ million years ago. What part of that did you NOT get?). My friend Robyn and I were at my house and it started to rain. Only it was still sunny outside. So what did we do? We went outside and danced in the rain. In the middle of the street. True story. Cars drove by and we waved. WAVED. We waved at them and kept dancing. After, we went back in the house, soaked and laughing.

There are times when I miss those days. Like today. The first big fall rain. And I would love nothing more than to go outside and dance in the rain. Maybe not in the middle of the street. I’m not crazy. I AM NOT!

Ok, so I just looked out the window. It’s raining REALLY hard. And it’s REALLY windy. And there’s thunder and lightning. I think I will have to postpone my rain dancing for now.

Fuck. My car windows are open.

*updated* The series of tweets that became a blog post.

I’ve totally figured out the cure for my insomnia……….going to work.

It’s a payroll week and I’m busy, but all I can think of is closing my eyes and going to sleep.

Fuck people’s paychecks. They don’t need to get paid, right?

Oh all RIGHT! I’ll pay them, but then I’m putting my head down and going to sleep!

Ok, so I keep forgetting that I’m sending things to the printer. I get up to do something else and then realize I don’t have what I printed so I print it again.

OMG I’M KILLING TREES! I should be burned at the stake!

I need to be stopped cuz it’s not enough that I’m killing trees by wasting paper. Apparently I need to burn them down too for my self-mutilation/self-sacrifice.

I’m going to hell.

Good thing I don’t believe in hell.

And that the liquor store is just down the street.

Update: So that last line doesn’t really make sense to me, which means I imagine that it *absolutely* doesn’t make any sense to a lot of people. So, let me add that if I’m going to hell, I’ll be the geeky popular wanna be who brings booze to desperately try to fit in.

Look out Satan…..here I come and I’m bringin’ a keg to get the party started!

Auntie Stacey is a slacker.

I missed the birthdays for my sister’s kids this year. All. Of. Them. The fact that I can’t even remember if I did anything last year for their birthdays is irrelevant. Most of last year I was in a drunken haze. So this year, I set up reminders on Birthday Alarm to help me with my alcohol-induced amnesia. Yeah, well…I think I need to upgrade to the package where they send you a messenger that repeatedly pokes you with a special event cattle prod until you actually DO something to acknowledge the event. To them, not you. It’s all about THEM, remember?

I’m the fucking world’s worst aunt.

So here I am, almost a week AFTER the last of their birthdays, and I am just now getting their cards done. I started with my neice’s card. I figure that at 12, she is much more likely to get my humor than the other two (but I toned it down even for her – no need to traumatize her any more than is standard for the near teenage years). So here is how I try to somehow redeem myself:

Yep I know *exactly* how late I am with this. I do. Many days lately, I am a slacker. Auntie Stacey is a slacker! LOL Even though I am a slacker, I promise you I was thinking of you on your birthday. Were your ears burnin’? I telepathically sent you lots of love, so if you all of a sudden felt warmth and surrounded by a big invisible hug, that was me. 🙂 We hope you had a great birthday! You’ve grown so fast and I can’t forget holding you when you were a baby. Ok I’ll stop embarrassing you now! Just know we love you! Happy Belated Birthday!

I hope she likes it and forgives me for being such a slacker. Maybe next year will be better. Depends on how much I drink, I guess.

BlogHer@Home is the bomb, and that’s not just the booze talking.

Just signed off from an awesome time at http://www.blogherathome.com/. It was awesome, just fucking awesome. The chat tonite had some awesome giveaways (I didn’t win, but I’m still hopeful for tomorrow!) and some great laughs. If I didn’t have to be an adult tomorrow and go to work, I would totally still be chatting there now. 😉

I’m more than lightly toasted, bordering on half-baked. The husband keeps trying to talk to me, but all I hear is, “Wah Wah…Wah…Wah Wah Wah…Wah Wah” (& if you have never watched a Charlie Brown cartoon don’t EVEN ask, you baby!).

Ok, so I just put on my Beatles CD. WTF? Is this what I listen to when I’m drinkin? Hmmm….not that I can recall, but then again I don’t really remember much right now. It’s probably the booze talking. Or not. I just might be *that* weird. My friends can attest to that.

Anywhoo, you should totally check out http://blogherathome.com/, cuz these bitches are AMAZING! Hope to see you ladies again tomorrow. Thx so much for the hangover that I can complain about tomorrow. You’ll never know how much it means to me. ROFL I should totally go to sleep now. Emphasis on *should*.

They hire geniuses at Burger King, but only the lower level geniuses.

There was no way to avoid getting breakfast on the way to work yesterday morning cuz I was starving. My options near work were REALLY limited, which meant…..Burger King. Oh joy. The total for my #1 with bacon and a small coke was $4.72. Perfect. I had a $10 and needed change to pay someone back. I pulled up to the window, handed the worker my money, and asked if I can have 5 $1 back. He stood there. And stared at me. Obviously, what he must have heard was “What is the square root of 5,732,945?”. WE all know the answer to that, but apparently he missed that day at BKU. I didn’t realize that asking for a specific denomination in my change would give him THAT much pause. Had he stood there any longer, I’m sure I would have started to smell smoke coming from his brain as he frantically tried to comprehend the meaning of life question that I posed to him. Wonder what he would have done if I had asked him a REALLY hard question like, “Do you like green eggs and ham? Do you like them, Sam-I-Am?”

I should be banned from all staff meetings.

I’m usually pretty quiet in staff meetings. I keep my comments to myself until after when the little groups break apart into their more intimate bitch sessions. Today was another story. I had serious difficulty in keeping my comments to myself today when it came to discussing the merger/layoffs. Granted they were whispered to my friend sitting next to me, but still…..

Co-worker: I wonder what kind of morale booster they will have.

Me: cattle prod.

Co-worker: I’m sure they could come up with a really nice morale booster.

Me: oh…scented cattle prod.

She started rolling & I was laughing so hard I drooled on the table. Everyone else in the meeting was wondering what was wrong with us, especially when she got up to get me a tissue to wipe the table. Cuz no one wants to put their hands in someone else’s spit, no matter how funny the joke was that caused it to be there. I think the department head was glad for the 5 weeks where I missed the staff meetings.

It’s totally OK if it itches in public.

I was reading a post from this awesome blog I recently started following. The part about a toddler complaining about poopie in her ba’gina got me thinking (after I got up from rolling around on the floor of course).

The sperm donor’s sister had a wonderful son John James. One day many many many MANY years ago, she caught him scratching his boy parts. Really diggin in there, apparently. The following conversation is just too GAWD DAMN FUNNY to be made up:

Susie: John, don’t scratch yourself there!

John James: But it itches mommy!

Susie: Well………just don’t scratch it in public.

John James: But what if it ITCHES IN PUBLIC?????

Obviously this happened before puberty set in and his brain migrated to his boy parts & lost the ability to think of these things, ask them, or even give a rats ass about them (and any men reading this,you know you were snickering before you decided to be all offended).

Kids totally rock.

Farkle is the fucking Devil.

I know I’m not alone in this and I’m asking for your help.

I’m recruiting members for a new firing squad which will have a single purpose: to destroy the creator(s) of Farkle. This won’t really be surprising to them. They started this game for their own enjoyment and only turned it on the rest of the world Facebook community when they realized how addicted they had become. This was their revenge against their own Frankenstein monster. We need to put them out of their misery just as much as we need to be released from their curse.

They’ll thank us, trust me.