Sure, she’s a famous model now, but when she was a teenager, she was crowned Miss Connect The Dots of the Schenectady Summer Fair.
Worst case of acne you could possibly imagine.
She tried every cream, treatment, and torture imaginable.
None of them worked.
Do you ever wash your face?
Don’t eat so much chocolate.
Go easy on that greasy food.
Humiliated, she ran away from home.
Today, she’s in hundreds of magazines and catalogs.
Oh, her face is still a mess. More hideous than Medusa herself.
But then, who needs a pretty face when you’re a famous hand model?
Tag: sick
Red Book
Whenever my parents fought and I had to stay overnight at my grandparents’ house, Grampa pulled a red book from the shelf and read bedtime stories to me.
They fought a lot, so I was over there once… twice a week.
And a new story each night, one I’d never heard since.
When I was a senior in high school, there was a carbon monoxide leak, and Grandma and Grampa died.
I found the red book of Grampa’s stories, opened it, and saw it was full of the raunchiest pornography I’d ever seen.
I guess Grampa was a good improviser.
Assistant Wanted
Remember when she said she’d gotten her dream job? Assistant to that big movie star.
No, not the one always adopting kids. The other one.
Yeah, that one. That’s him.
Didn’t even send flowers. That’s what he had her for, right? To make it look like he cared.
Never had time to date.
Never had time to settle down.
Never took a vacation.
Oh, sure, she traveled, but she never saw the world. Phone in one hand, her boss’ dayplanner in the other.
Did she schedule this, too?
Heart attack.
Die at twenty-six.
Put an ad in Variety: Assistant Wanted.
Survivors
It’s been two hours since the helicopter crashed on the mountain.
Well, not really crashed. It was a rather good landing.
Jacobs disagrees about that. “It was a shitty landing,” he says. “Spilled my drink.”
We’ve got plenty of food, water, and other supplies, but Jacobs insists that we kill the pilot and eat him.
“I’m not eating goddamned energy soy bars,” says Jacobs. “I want a steak, and muscle is just meat, right?”
The pilot tried to yell through his gag.
“I think I hear a chopper,” I said. “They found us.”
“Good,” said Jacobs. “More pilots to eat.”
Turnabout
Lawmakers recently expanded the definition of rape to include acts upon women, men, and others.
When asked what they meant by others, the lawmakers didn’t answer.
So, they were hauled before a judge for the crime of rape.
“By using ambiguous terms such as ‘others’ I find you guilty of the crime of rape against the English Language,” said the judge. “You’re also guilty of rape of the legal system for burdening police and judges with ambiguous laws.”
And they were all hauled off to prison, where they were treated as they had treated the language and the legal system.
The Bloody Cupcake
Joe tried to scream again, but his mouth was gagged, and he’d lost a lot of blood.
Luke.
That bastard.
He knew!
How? Who told him?
Luke wiped the blood from his knife. “Hey, I can check one thing off my resolution list.”
Eyes stinging from gasoline dripping from his hair, Joe stared at the cupcake, topped with a sickly sheen of blood.
His blood.
“Oh, right,” said Luke. “The candle. Silly me.”
Luke took out a candle and stuck it in the cupcake.
And lit it.
“Make a wish,” said Luke, and he flicked the lit candle at Joe.
Control
I don’t know what’s more embarrassing… losing control of your bowels in a movie theater or losing control of your bowels in a courtroom.
When you lose control of them in a movie theater, okay, you make a mess in your pants and the seat, but all it takes is a mop and a steam-cleaner and everything’s as good as new.
But when you lose control of them in a courtroom, well, you have to file an appeal, pay the lawyer again, and make sure you get a judge who doesn’t think you don’t deserve custody of your own asshole.
Ho Ho Hock Up A Lung
So, you got sick over the holidays?
Color me shocked. I’m not surprised.
I told you to boil and sterilize any and all Santas before sitting in their laps, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! you just had to tell Santa what you wanted right there and then without taking precautions… gah, you fool!
Wouldn’t even wear a big plastic trashbag or put down tissue-paper.
Sure enough, you catch the Santacrud.
It’s the third-leading disease of the holidays, right after drowning in wassail and choking on sugarplums! We must raise awareness! We-
We’re under mistletoe?
Go get a step ladder. I’ll take it down.
Drug Snugglers
Over the holidays, veteran television news anchors get the night off, and backup anchors cover their shifts
Sometimes, those backup anchors call in sick so they don’t have to read bullshit holiday stories or horrid tragedies like deadly house fires.
Oh, just stick a reporter up there. They can read a prompter, right?
I remember one that said the cops busted a ring of drug snugglers.
We gave him a huge teddybear and wrote DRUGS on its shirt.
The next day, the reporter was found dead.
Not suicide. Poisoned from tearing open the bear and trying to smoke the stuffing.
Unhappy New Year
Due to a logistical error, the Baby New Year ended up in the womb of a crack-smoking teen runaway in Boise, Idaho, and he was born two months premature.
It caught the world completely off guard.
Not only did everything really suck for a while as the unhealthy year struggled to survive inside its incubator, but companies shed hundreds of thousands of jobs because the whole Christmas shopping season was lost.
“We’ll make Valentine’s Day the big shopping day!” they said, but there’s only so many chocolates and edible panties the market can bear.
Here’s hoping next year’s better, friends.