My family makes the best pretzels in the world.
The secret is in how to add the salt. We have a patent on it.
However, a famous patent troll threatened to sue us because he had a general patent on how to salt pretzels.
“I have to preserve my rights,” he claimed. And he offered to license his patent to us.
So, we offered him a tour of our facility.
Five hours later, he was stuffed into a wooden barrel full of shit.
“That’ll preserve you well enough,” I told the barrel.
And we lost it deep in the warehouse.
Tag: food
Laxatives
Using laxatives to lose weight is a bad idea.
Not only will you drain your body of essential nutrients, but you’ll damage your fragile digestive tract.
And then there’s the possibility that you’ll shit out your soul.
Most people notice when it’s slipped out. Treat it like a knocked-out tooth: keep it moist, and get to a priest. They’re in the Yellow Pages.
If you accidentally flush your soul away, that’s just too bad. Just be sure to wash your hands, and there’s plenty of jobs available to you: Wall Street banker, politician, and Department of Motor Vehicles window clerk.
Taco Juggler
Are you the man who juggles tacos?
Because, if you are, well, I am the man who juggles burritos.
However, one day I hope to have the skill to juggle tacos. Like you do.
How do you do it without spilling anything from those taco shells?
How do you do it without breaking the shells?
And most importantly: how can you stand them?
Tacos are disgusting. Dust and flies can get in there.
At least a burrito is a closed environment. A self-contained universe of food.
But the world does not want burrito jugglers. Only taco jugglers.
Teach me, master!
Tattoos
VERSION 1:
Unlike ice cream trucks and their melodic chimes playing Turkey In The Straw or Pop Goes The Weasel, Ted’s Tattoo Truck announces its presence with Metallica’s Enter Sandman.
He usually parks it outside of schools and offers up a wide range of temporary tattoos, from snarling demons to Hello Kitty. But every now and then, a company will hire him to print up their logo or latest marketing buzzword for a corporate picnic.
His original plan was to offer real tattoos, but those take too long to create.
Temporary tattoos allow repeat business, and don’t piss off parents as much.
VERSION 2:
Do you hear that?
That’s not Pop Goes The Weasel, or Turkey in the Straw.
That’s Metallica’s Enter Sandman on the jangly jinglechimes of Ted’s Temporary Tattoo Truck!
It’s been a while since he was last at our school.
Our moms and dads were so angry. But Ted’s lawyer was angrier, and now Ted’s back! Hoorah!
What will you get?
A unicorn? A demon? A Hello Kitty?
A Harry Potter forehead lightning bolt scar?
I’m going to get Mom on a heart for my arm. Maybe get a whole sheet of them.
Because who knows when he’ll be back again.
Splatter
I met this girl at a bar. She said she was an artist.
“What kind of art do you make?” I asked.
She invited me back to her studio and she showed me.
“It’s called splatter art,” she said, picking up a brush and carelessly slopping it on a canvas.
I hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, so I said I liked it.
The next morning, I offered to cook breakfast.
“I’m a chef,” I said.
Then I proceeded to randomly grab stuff out of her fridge and toss it on the stove.
“I call it splatter cuisine,” I said, laughing.
Gravy
IT is important. IT connects people with each other and to the resources they need.
Without IT, you’re not an organization or connected.
Heck, without IT, Sir Isaac Newton would have discovered gravy, not gravity.
As much as I love gravy, it would be really messy with all that gravy, floating out of its gravy boat and getting all over everything in sticky delicious blobs.
Thank goodness it was an apple that fell on Newton’s head, and not a gravy boat.
Those things are expensive, not to mention the brain damage one could cause such a fertile mind as Newton.
Provide
When people say God will provide, I ask them what God will provide.
They never have a specific answer.
So, I ask “Will God provide Pop Tarts?”
They usually say “No.” or “Probably not.” However, this one time they said “No.” and God interrupted us, and He said “”Hey, guys, oddly enough, I have some Pop Tarts.” And He put the box of Pop Tarts on the table.
They were cherry-flavored.
“My favorite,” I said. “Thanks, God.”
“You’re welcome,” said God. And He vanished.
I put them in the toaster, but it was broken.
That’s okay. They’re good untoasted, too.
Civil War
Tens of thousands of Syrians have died during their civil war.
Hundreds of thousands have fled the country.
While these people suffer, diplomats and politicians yell at each other and do nothing.
Like many, I think we should arm the Syrian rebels, but the problem is that the rebels include Al Qaeda and Hezbollah terrorists.
So, I have decided to help arm the terrorists with pies. Because the YouTube videos will be funny instead of head-chopping-off gruesome.
“What kind of pie would you like?” I ask a rebel.
‘Die Infidel!” he shouts.
“Sorry, just apple and cherry today,” I grumble.
Eggnostic
Some eggs are hard-boiled in their faith.
Those are easy to paint and put in the basket.
Then we can shuck them for later.
Others have no faith at all. They’ve been poked with holes, and everything blown out.
Those are just empty husks that we can glue shiny glitter to.
Then there’s the eggs in the middle. The ones that haven’t been hard-boiled or blown-out.
I call them the eggnostic eggs.
Can’t paint them, or they rot.
Can’t glue anything to them either.
I just crack them on the bowl, scramble them up, and pour ’em in the skillet.
Popular places
I know a place that’s so popular, nobody goes there anymore.
No. Really. Nobody goes there anymore.
People make reservations years in advance and put down a deposit. Then they forget about the reservation and forfeit the deposit.
Everybody does this, and nobody ends up eating there.
The owner’s gotten rich off of this scam.
Then, the heath inspector came by. There was no food or knives or anything in the kitchen.
No tables, chairs, silverware, or plates in the dining room either.
They failed inspection.
Why? Because of the bathrooms. Totally unused, but nobody had cleaned them in years.