Short Funnies

1. The Man from GM tells me that his philosophy is “Swing at Everything.” I’m pretty sure that, if allowed to count myself, I’m as lucky with the ladies as the Man from GM is, but I appreciate his optimism. Those of you who’ve had to fish his hands out of your pants may not be so appreciative of said optimism.

2. The Man from GM also complains that the girls he gets with are all in bad shape, because, after a while, they start gasping for breath. I laughed and teased him mercilessly and he got mad and said it was a real problem. I’m still 51% sure he knows that’s not really a problem. Okay 43% sure.

3. The Butcher is concerned that I might be becoming an alcoholic again. Oh, Citizens of Earth, the funny is on so many levels. Let’s count them. One, the Butcher is worried about my consumption of mood altering chemicals?! Two, in the past month, not counting the tequila, I’ve had five drinks–one at my cousin’s wedding and four Friday night. I’ve been drunk once, counting the tequila. And, as the Professor can attest, that’s a pretty heavy month for me. Three, again?! I suspect the overblown stories of my college exploits have given him a false impression of how I really spent my time.

4. Though I should probably not admit this so soon after making fun of the Man from GM, I think I’m missing a little basic anatomy knowledge. Okay this is Laffy Taffy. No part of my body looks like this. And maybe I’m taking things too literally, but because I have nothing that looks like this, I cannot figure out what the hell D4L wants me to shake.

5 thoughts on “Short Funnies

  1. I’m confused.

    Were you previously an alcoholic, or is the “again” referring merely to the Butcher’s angst about your drinking?

    Because there are two entirely different responses based upon either scenario

  2. Oh, no, I was never previously an alcoholic. That’s another level of funny. The Butcher’s decided that I was a raging alcoholic in college based on hearing stories of my college exploits–that you Super Genius, Corporate Shill, and, I suspect, Man from GM. I think he hears those stories and thinks it was always like that, as opposed to hearing those stories and realizing that, with a few exceptions, that’s all there was.

    But, hey, if we’re going to mistake the highlight reel for the whole game, I’m eagerly awaiting the sex lecture. That won’t be awkward or anything.

  3. The Man from GM also complains that the girls he gets with are all in bad shape, because, after a while, they start gasping for breath.

    They should, if he’s doing it right.

    BAdum dum.

    By the way, does The Butcher not have a highlight reel of his *own*? Does he not recognize plots and names after a coupla times? Those of us who really were alcoholics don’t have much of a highlight reel — unless it’s somebody else doing the telling, and then it usually ends with “… and then you passed out on/threw up on/made out with/tried to iron the dog.”

    (Please don’t let Mrs. Wigglebottom see that last sentence. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. And besides, I didn’t do the last two.)

  4. Grandfille,

    Considering that the Man from GM is the biggest blabbermouth I know, I didn’t want to get too particular with him since any story I tell him that starts “Well, when I…” and goes somewhere that might include an orgasm usually ends up with him sitting with my parents or the Pope saying “Well, when B. …” which is not so great.

    But I tried to hint around enough about what happens to discover whether he was some kind of idiot savant in the bedroom. I can’t quite tell.

    I think that I tell stories exactly opposite of my brothers. I dwell on the most extreme things; they tend to avoid thinking about the most extreme things that happened to them.

    So, I tell stories thinking “This is as wild as it gets.” and they hear those stories and think, “My god, if this is what she’s telling…”

  5. I’m thinking there’s a common denominator with men from GM. I have my own, and he can’t shut his damn mouth for nothin’. Even with his WIFE in the room. I’m always looking at him like “Dayum, G, will you shut UP? She’s going to divorce you, but first she’s going to beat you about the head and ears with that ottoman.” (Imagine the accompanying futile gestures with that one, if you want.) I do know NEVER to go downtown (verbally) with that man, after one cell-phone conversation turned into a “hey, Pookie, guess what grande just said” as soon as he got in the damn door. I would’ve told HER when we were at lunch and then we would’ve poked gentle fun at boys and their foibles, but no, he had to go … well, anyway.

    I think your bros are confusing good journalism with plain ol’ bullshitting. Of course you tell the most sensational part first; that’s the LEAD (i.e., “this one time, when I was nekkid …”). Everything else is just an “in other action, the committee: a) …” paragraph (i.e., “… and then the neighbor boy said, ‘Shoot, yeah.'”).

Comments are closed.