The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘humor’

Rumors About Canada

My buddy Rainbow Speak is on his annual crazy vacation – he goes to Canada for about two weeks with some family members (dad, brother, that kind of thing) and they hike/canoe/fish/camp out. That’s it. Every day they wake up, break camp, hike/canoe to the next location, fish, and then cook that fish for food.

It sounds amazing and nutty.

Because of his upcoming trip to Canada I wanted to look up some information, and dispel rumors about our great neighbor to the north.

The Top 5 Canadian Rumors

1. In Canada you are not recognized as a citizen until you cut down your first tree.

FACT. Most Canadians have done this by the time they are three, so by the time they are adults they don’t even remember that this was a “big deal.”

2. Knock-knock jokes are not popular in Canada, not because they’re not funny, but because they imply that the door is not always open.

FACT. If there was a knock-knock joke, the second line would always be, “Come on in neighbor!”

3. The first time a serial killer was in Canada, it wasn’t until years after the killer was caught that Canadians realized this was a person who killed people, rather than someone who just really loved cereal.

MYTH. There has never been a human Canadian serial killer. The only serial killers in Canada are bears.

4. Maple syrup is used as a form of currency in Canada.

MYTH. They use paper bills and coins. No one would ever part with their currency if it was maple syrup.

5. In a dark room somewhere in Canada, an evil mastermind occasionally gets on a microphone and talks to a random selection of Canadians. This evil mastermind has the ability to talk to any Canadian, at any time. He simply asks the question, “what’s the first letter of the alphabet?” and Canadians answer seamlessly.

MYTH. The Canadian alphabet, like the Canadian people, is so friendly that the first letter of their alphabet is actually “eh plus.”

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Du Jour of the Week

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Attn: Ellen (8/14/13)

Front

Ellen132a

Back (apologies for my handwriting!)

Ellen132b

The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

I think if I was a super villain who struggled with depression I would go by the name Mega Low Maniac. I would wear a cape but it wouldn’t have any designs on it, because, as I would say also as my battle cry: “oh, what’s the point?” Of course I would never shout that before battle, my sidekick Ennui Go would do that.

Sincerely,
DumbFunnery.com

Why am I doing this?

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Attn: Ellen

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A Little Too Comfortable

What toilet paper does for people’s derrieres contributes considerably more to the abyss between the classes than a good many external signs.

– The Elegance of the Hedgehog

My junior year of college I found myself at a friend’s campus housing, loading my backpack with the free campus toilet paper. When the backpack was zippered up I looked like an industrious, hard-working student who had just spent a day expanding his intellectually curious mind with a backpack full of books. What my friend and I knew was that I was a cheapskate, and I had either just hit a new low, or discovered something great: a new way to not spend money.

It was toward the start of the year and I had my own apartment for the first time. When I had started the year my mom had driven down with me to SMU with all of my belongings and she helped me move in. We ran to Sam’s/Costco/Target/Bed Bath and Beyond/whatever (it’s all a blur) and she bought a lot of stuff for me. One of the things we got was a big package of toilet paper. The nice kind.

The campus toilet paper was obviously bought for quantity, not quality. Where Quilted Northern can describe itself as plush, this stuff would describe itself as vengeful and angry. “Dear spoiled college students, go take your naps and enjoy this carefree time of your life … I’ll bring you down a notch.”

When I got home I unloaded the haul – I would be set with toilet paper for a while, and when I ran out?, who cares!, a quick walk to my friend’s campus housing and wha-la, I was set yet again. I didn’t know how much toilet paper cost, but I felt like a champion of thriftiness.

Then, the dreaded day. The last of my mom-purchased, high quality toilet paper and the switch back to the campus stuff. WAIT A MINUTE!, my body seemed to say, I thought we’d moved past this stuff! Apparently, apartment life had spoiled me some (in other ways – the ants, the forgetting to pay the electricity that one summer month, it had not).

I was talking with a few friends and toilet paper came up, and what I said surprised my cheap self (and my friends for my over-sharing): “You know, I think one thing I don’t mind splurging on is toilet paper …” (This statement was greeted with surprised/confused/amused looks.) “WHAT?!,” I said not at all casually in defense, “it’s … I mean, come on!, it’s worth the comfort!”

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Weekly Wacko

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