The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Du Jour of the Week’

Christmas Shopping Help

Christmas is fast approaching and you’ve got some of your shopping done but you’re still missing gifts for a few people. And wouldn’t you know it, they’re the people who are the most difficult to buy for.

Don’t worry. We here at DumbFunnery have scoured the internet, obtained access to your emails, stalked your social media posts and know an alarming amount about you and your family. Not as much as Google knows about you, or Facebook, but still an unsettling amount.

Your Dad
Membership to the ‘Show Us You’re Nuts’ club which sends various nuts and inappropriate jokes every month

Your Mom
A punching bag, trust us, she needs this

Your Neighbor Who Did You That Big Favor and You’re Like, Do We Get Them Something?
A framed photo of you in a crop top

Your Brother-in-Law
A couple thousand dollars would save him from a broken leg, otherwise some good magazines to read in the hospital

Your Great Uncle Smimby
Monogrammed hand towels, and the nice thing is he’s not terribly concerned about if they are his initials or not

There you go, friends. Merry Christmas from us here at DumbFunnery.

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November Haiku

November 1 (Wednesday)
‘Go ahead, make my …’
Would be a good restaurant.
Or not. Whatever.

November 2 (Thursday)
(Laughter subsiding)
Well sure! Cannibalism!
(Laughter picks back up)

November 3 (Friday)
Wake up. Status check.
Not exhausted! Fantastic!
Look out, here I come!

November 4 (Saturday)
Army – Air Force game
Don’t need to watch the scoreboard
Dad’s whoops tell it all

November 5 (Sunday)
Smile from kiddo
Rare, magical, and like drugs
I NEED MY NEXT FIX

November 6 (Monday)
Same problem for days
Did code fix itself this weekend?
Gah, that’d be scary.

November 7 (Tuesday)
Trumpy’s in Gina
He’s likely hoping to meet
THE General Tso

November 8 (Wednesday)
Twitter allows more
What do they want from me, huh?
Ten daily haiku?!

November 9 (Thursday)
Cooler weathers here
Makes for unpleasant jogging
But beautiful views

November 10 (Friday)
Catch up on the news.
Look at how long til work ends.
Big sigh. And repeat.

November 11 (Saturday)
Saw a swearing in
Heart heavy for future vets
With our simple pres

November 12 (Sunday)
Wife’s folks visiting
Because you need four people
To ‘awwww’ over poops

November 13 (Monday)
“What big teeth you have!”
“They’re dentures … You little brat …”
Little Red: Prequel

November 14 (Tuesday)
Year ago today:
‘Hope he’s not dumb as I think.’
Today: he’s dumber

November 15 (Wednesday)
‘Death by tickle fight’
If that was a news headline
World peaked? Or new low?

November 16 (Thursday)
Just think, future self
Years from now I’ll threaten son,
“Santa’s watching you!”

November 17 (Friday)
I’m shocked. SHOCKED I say!
Nation with ‘pussy grab’ pres
… Has sex pred problem?

November 18 (Saturday)
Classic burbs dad day
Chipotle, Target, Costco
Boundless adventure

November 19 (Sunday)
Finally caught up
With Game of Thrones … Anyone
Feel like discussing?

November 20 (Monday)
In 5 day work weeks
People work 5 days. 3 day weeks?
4 hours of work?

November 21 (Tuesday)
Long duration test
Failed after running for days
Big sigh. Try again.

November 22 (Wednesday)
“Sing-ularity”
A musical version of
The Terminator

November 23 (Thursday)
Happy Thanksgiving!
May you eat til you hate life!
Wait … That sounds … Not nice

November 24 (Friday)
Step 1: Fry turkey.
Step 2: Don’t burn down the house.
Step 3: Say ‘phew,’ eat.

November 25 (Saturday)
Folks watch the kiddo
While I go back up to bed
It’s the little things

November 26 (Sunday)
Some Christmas gifts done
Those that are toughest still blank
That seems about right

November 27 (Monday)
Hung up lights with pops
House looks great! … But already
Dreading taking down

November 28 (Tuesday)
Folks headed back home
And I’m back at work today
Day status: womp womp

November 29 (Wednesday)
Wrote work goals for year
‘Stay employed’ not on the list
But kinda implied

November 30 (Thursday)
How’s it possible
That short weeks always feel long?
Seriously. How?

Autobiographies in My Life

Mine: I’ll Have the Spaghetti Surprise (What’s the Surprise?) THAT’S NOT SPAGHETTI!

My wife: My Husband is the Greatest in the World and He Also Makes Bold Assumptions About Autobiography Titles

My son: Pooping, Screaming, Crying, Smiling – My Life, And How it Sounds Like Alanis Morissette Lyrics

The rabbit that lives in the backyard: Why’s That Guy Taking Another Picture of Me?, and Other Concerns

The owl that lives somewhere around here: That Moron Has Still Yet to Take a Picture of Me, and Other Animals I’m Better Than

The neighbor across the street: Being the Cool Neighbor, and Other Life Advice

That one neighbor across the street: Perching and Watching, a Guide

The mail person: Should I be Concerned? A Series of Postcards that Give one Pause

October Haiku

October 1 (Sunday)
Flag. Definition:
Object. Represents nation.
Flag equals troops? NOPE.

October 2 (Monday)
New scars for U.S.
Do we pause, and examine?
Pres: too soon to think

October 3 (Tuesday)
Listen, when I hunt,
I need to kill 40 deer
In 5 seconds, K?

October 4 (Wednesday)
What a baseball game
Happy for the Diamondbacks
Happy for baseball

October 5 (Thursday)
Work status this week
Brain? Semi-check. Coffee? Check.
Staring dumbly? Check.

October 6 (Friday)
Sorry to the songs
I butcher, and change words
For diaper changes

October 7 (Saturday)
Woken up from nap
For a Home Depot errand
Hi, I’m clichè dad

October 8 (Sunday)
The flies where I live
Are awful this time of year
I need you Mickey!!

October 9 (Monday)
Oh, hi there Monday
You beautiful old hussy
Wait, what? What’s that mean?

October 10 (Tuesday)
Prepped for flu season
Flu shot? Nah. I watch people
And lick the sick ones

October 11 (Wednesday)
Cuddle time with son
Deep sleep. Ten second cry. Sleep.
Boy: you confuse me

October 12 (Thursday)
Does the Navy test
Each sailors sassy levels?
If not, they oughta

October 13 (Friday)
Son was due today
He’ll be chronically early
Based on his birth date

October 14 (Saturday)
Jose Altuve
Whose strike zone is the size of
A watermelon

October 15 (Sunday)
Dance walking the house
Is my watch tracking these steps?
If not, that is harsh

October 16 (Monday)
Tip for making friends:
Drop ice when you leave a room
Then folks know you’re cool

October 17 (Tuesday)
Life goal eighty-six:
Work with group, all named Bambi
Start emails: ‘Deer Team’

October 18 (Wednesday)
Nicknames for the kid:
Little chunk, bun bun, monster
Will he learn his name?

October 19 (Thursday)
My brother’s birthday
He’s 40! Nuts! And, oddly,
That makes me feel old

October 20 (Friday)
My wife’s grandparents
In town to see the kiddo
Oh, and us, I guess

October 21 (Saturday)
Watching Astros plus
Cuddling with the baby:
Happy grandparents

October 22 (Sunday)
Waking from a nap
As though I was tranquilized
How very restful?

October 23 (Monday)
One day I’ll look back
And think: what happened this day?
And I’ll draw a blank

October 24 (Tuesday)
Will I reach an age
Where I don’t need to stroll through
A store’s toy aisle

October 25 (Wednesday)
In case you forgot
Donald Trump is still garbage
Making US worse

October 26 (Thursday)
“Bottom of the …” *boop*
“Bases are …” *boop* oh hi!! *boop*
(Baseball with the kid)

October 27 (Friday)
Had some friends over
Made vegetarian food
aka a snack

October 28 (Saturday)
Weekend! My old friend!
Oh, hey kiddo, what do you need?
Ah, constant movement.

October 29 (Sunday)
Went to a friend’s ranch
Made friends with some buffalo
It was a good day

October 30 (Monday)
Manafort’s defense:
“You said ‘illegal?’ I thought
“You said ‘ill legal!'”

October 31 (Tuesday)
Kid’s first Halloween
I dressed as a slutty dad
Wore sexy spit-up

Easy Praise

This post is a little counter-intuitive, because I’m going to give people reasons to not to say nice things to me, but I think it’s worth saying.

I think, in my very short journey into fatherhood, it’s easier to be called a great dad than it is to be called a great mom. By easier I mean much, much easier. Like the bar is set so low a snail could walk over it. And, unfortunately, I think that’s because of the general expectations that people have for moms and dads. Moms are expected to do … everything, and likely with a full heart and a smile, and dads are expected to help mom take a load off once every 3 weeks or so. I don’t know the exact science, but it’s in there somewhere.

My wife and I are following the traditional route, she is home on maternity leave for a long while, and I am back at work. This means, by the time I get home every day, she will have been full time b for 8+ hours, while I worked on code. In case you didn’t know, code is much more predictable than a baby. I get frustrated when I can’t solve a problem at work (because I always feel like I should know better and be able to solve whatever it is) … and a baby is somewhat similar in a way.

Hear me out. The baby and computer can both give less than ideal messages that something is wrong (cryptic error messages for one, crying so intense it consumes their whole body for the other) … but you know what? I think cryptic error messages are ok compared to crying. Most anything is ok compared to crying.

I get home from a lovely day of work or a long day and if the kiddo is up and unhappy, I’ll dance around with him. Easy peasy. He typically has an unhappy stretch somewhere between or inclusive of 7 pm to 11 pm. Usually he can be calmed pretty well, but you have to be in constant motion. I am consistently logging 3+ miles just in the house, and the majority of that is pacing/dancing from the kitchen to the family room and back. And again. And again. It’s not always pleasant, but it’s not too bad. The only really unpleasant times are when he is inconsolable and so very upset. That is tough. It’s draining to try to keep the monster happy when he is fussy for God knows what reason … And my wife has just had a long day of doing just that.

But you wouldn’t believe how people hear or see that I come home from work, take over to give my wife a break, and then folks offer up lauds generally reserved for those curing cancer.

Was I not involved in the creation of this kiddo? I know my wife, and mom’s in general, are genetically tied to the baby in a way the dad never can be or never will be … But to let that be the justification for being hands off or not trying to contribute as much as possible?

Consider, the next time you want to throw out a kudos, would you be throwing the same kudos if you saw a mom doing this thing? Or is it applause worthy simply because it’s dad?

Really. Pause. Take a moment, and think about it.

Got to go, the kid and wife have both been crying the whole time I’ve been writing this. Just kidding. You hope.

Baby Board

Jim Francis was furious, the numbers that Dave Standton had reported looked bad. Very bad. The board’s care team was glancing amongst themselves, looking nervous. This was going to be a long meeting.

Thus far, the board meeting had proceeded without much chaos, but the horizon looked worrisome.

Standing up next to report on new products for the coming quarter, to hopefully reverse the tragedy that is the projected numbers for this quarter, was Jill Hargrove. Jill looked around the room, eyes unable to focus on anything, one eye going over there, now making direct eye contact, then quickly darting to stare at the lights in the room … a slight smile appeared on Jill’s face before disappearing and she began.

It was bad. There were no noteworthy new products, like Apple, the company was in a rut of marketing new versions of the same thing. But, unlike Apple, their customers tended to notice and be angry.

Jim’s forehead crinkled, his eyes narrowed, and then, there it was, his mouth opened wide and a loud, heart-wrenching scream pierced the room. A care team member jumped up and tried to get a pacifier into Jim’s mouth but he was too late, he was deep in the throws of his crying. Two other care team members came and, together, the three of them picked up Jim and rocked him until he calmed enough to get the pacifier. Calmed, he was put back into his leather office chair, and with the room quieted Jill continued while Jim sucked angrily on his pacifier, his eyes seemed shooting fire around the room.

This was no ordinary board of directors. Each of the directors, while intelligent, capable, and fully grown, also had the peculiar habit of acting like a newborn.

With one crisis down, another began, as Jill stopped speaking and began shaking her head vigorously side-to-side, mouth opening and closing as her arms began to flail about. Her thrashing was erratic, terrifying, and building momentum. Thankfully, one of her arms accidentally smacked into her head and she plopped back down into her chair while sucking on her knuckles. The care team was one step ahead this time, and they deftly plopped a bottle into Jill’s mouth while gently sliding her knuckles out of the way.

The meeting was, as far as these go, pretty productive. They had lasted seventeen minutes.

The care team moved Jim and Jill out of the room, wheeling them back to their offices. Dave stayed behind, he had fallen asleep. There was another meeting starting soon, but who could possibly wake him up to make that next meeting?, he looked so adorable.

Doctor Trump

If you were hoping to read about my baby, nah … it’s just me bashing Trump. I wrote this right after Charlottesville and DJ’s response. See if you can catch my oh so subtle opinion on the matter.

I’m sitting on the butcher paper, nervously rubbing my knee while checking my phone every 40 seconds or so. The doctor should be in any minute now to tell me the results of all the tests that have just been run.

The door opens and he glides in, holding himself to his full height and bearing a look on his face that says ‘I know something you don’t knoooooow.’

I search the doctor’s eyes and he looks down at me, beginning a series of remarks about what a great doctor he is, and how so many other doctors aren’t great, and also about how a lot of doctors think they’re good at tennis but really they’re not that good at tennis. ‘Believe me,’ he says, ‘I belong to a tennis club. These guys. They’re no tennis.’

‘Doc, please!’ I exclaim against my desire to be patient and cordial, ‘what do I have? Is it bad?’

He smirks, then raises his eyebrows, then lifts his chin so he undoubtedly sees more of his nose than he sees my face, and he says, ‘Look, I’m not going to lie, it’s bad. You’ve got on the one side, maybe cancer, and on the other side, maybe a bad headache. They’re just words. Whatever it is, they’re bad.’

My jaw drops. ‘Doc … I … There’s a HUGE difference between cancer and a big headache … Which … What do I have?’

‘Your words, ok. Your words.’ The doctor looks around the room like he’s debating remodeling the place, and perhaps me, he smacks his lips and continues, ‘It’s bad, ok? I’m not here to say which is worse, either way it’s bad. You’ve got one bad thing on one side, another bad thing on the other side.’

My brain nearly shuts off I’m so overwhelmed by rage and confusion, ‘…CANCER. HEADACHE.’

The doc purses his lips, smiles a little, ‘both bad,’ he says as he turns around and walks out the room.

 

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