I have five cats, how many of them are planning to murder me in my sleep?
I have five dogs, how many of them want to play fetch at sunrise?
I have five parrots, how many of them are a pretty boy?
I have five donkeys, how many don’t want to talk about their time in Mexico?
I have five horses, how many bottles of glue will they make?
I have five penguins, is that enough to make a dinner suit?
I have five rabbits, how many will I have tomorrow?
I have five ducks, boy do they hope it is rabbit season.
I have five lions, yes, the neighbour’s house looks like a much better place to rob.
I have five Australian native animals, they are all venomous and want to kill me.
I have five rats, which one is the politician?
I have five lawyers, which one should die first?
After my last post, Avery suggested I give up the trumpet. Actually, since he is a fellow blogger, writer and lover of puns, he wanted me to do a pun post. Well, that sounds like pun for everyone.
Before everyone is up in arms and down in legs, I realise that puns are some of the lamest jokes; they are like hurt animals. I mean, puns are just average, in the joke stakes. They’re like a loan shark at a singles bar.
But a good pun is its own reword. There are some very good comedians in the world and only some use puns. So I present the indomitable Tim Vine.
And a full concert for good measure:
It seems that my work, my hobbies, my break time and even my writing all bear an uncanny resemblance.
I listen to music, usually from iTunes.
I watch TV shows, usually streaming.
I catch up on the news, usually via live streaming.
I read up on the latest science, usually on science blogs.
I play guitar, with the computer backing track and music on the screen.
I catch up with friends, on Facebook, Twitter and Google+.
I phone family and friends, using Skype.
I work on my latest work in progress; think it is time I started using a typewriter.
Well, reading nerd funny at least.
Look cool
Pick up chicks
Conduct physics experiments
Teach a dog to fetch
Play Highway to Hell by AC/DC without sounding like you hate AC/DC
Play music
We’ve just come out of the drinking season and it is time to reminisce about what a great time we had and how we wish we weren’t back at work. It has always amazed me that there are certain things we only do when we are drunk. Obviously a little social lubricant and we suddenly feel we can do things we wouldn’t normally even contemplate. But what about those activities that only seem to be possible when drunk? This isn’t just about suddenly having courage or a lack of appreciation for the consequences, the following list are special talents that are revealed only with copious amounts of alcohol.
Play pool, snooker or billiards.
Eat a kebab.
Find a kebab store.
Listen to the greatest hits of the 80s.
Go to a nightclub.
Queue for a nightclub.
Dance.
Sing Karaoke.
Not drop dead instantly from embarrassment from being at a Nickleback concert.
Start a conversation with a 9/11 conspiracy nut.
Doesn’t matter what conversation you start with them, they will eventually raise the topic in order to spew their wacky world view at you. Try not to raise actual science or evidence with them, as they believe rust is thermite residue, and that thermite could have cut steel girders.
Discuss your children’s health and getting them vaccinated.
Without fail, someone will be an anti-medicine kook who will then call you a child abuser for vaccinating. Don’t worry, they’ll get polio and whooping cough, the universe likes irony.
Take your teething baby with you.
Especially to a cinema or restaurant.
Invite work colleagues for drinks, people whom you can’t stand to be around, and then get drunk.
Fun times will ensue as you tell your colleagues exactly what you think of them. It will be even better on the following Monday when you see them again.
Take a date to see a Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler movie.
Any chance you had of having another date with this person just evaporated as they realise that you have dragged them to see another in the long line of abysmal films starring Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler (except Dodgeball, which was hilarious).
Think you might be a writer but aren’t 150% sure? Here are ten signs that you may very well have a budding writer inside you.
Reblogged from: Ten Indisputable Signs That You’re a Writer.
Poop in their pants.
It could be argued that adults are not obliged to deny their desire to poop their pants, but generally that person will be shunned rather than have gooey faces made at them.
Cry to get attention.
Look at how lame we think Glen Beck is for doing this.
Only do the basics of life: eat, shit, sleep.
Hard to sleep when you are hungry. Hard to shit when you haven’t eaten. Hard to eat without earning money. Hard to earn money if all you do is lie around doing the basics of life.
Urinate on someone and laugh.
Well, I suppose we could do that, but I’m pretty sure that a fight would arise.
Suck on boobies in public.
It really would make for a better society if we could.
Be noisy and disruptive during movies, plane flights, in grocery stores and have people blame your parents.
Why am I the jerk for taking a call during the new James Bond film?
Be showered with gifts for just showing up.
Baby gifts are like the participation award at school, except with cooler prizes.
Like everyone else with a pulse, I’m a Monty Python fan. Whether it be a killer white rabbit or a very naughty boy, there is nothing quite like the laughs that a Python sketch can illicit. I recently found this lecture that John Cleese gave on creativity. It is quite interesting the ground he covers and the conditions that are needed to be cultivated in order to be creative. Hope everyone gets as much out of this as I did.
Tyson Adams 