Susie was afraid of monsters, so instead of a bed, she slept in a hammock.
And instead of a closet, she kept her clothes in her dresser and an armoire.
“An armoire is just a freestanding closet, isn’t it?” asked Susie’s monster.
“Not according to union rules,” said his supervisor. “She’s got her bases covered. Even uses a clear shower curtain so you can’t sneak up on her.”
Over the years, Susie’s monster was jealous of the other monsters, who earned massive performance bonuses.
And then, after years of doing nothing, Susie’s monster was ready…
He was promoted to management.
Tag: silly
Lawn Gnome
I was a small kid.
So, for Halloween, Mom used to dress me up as a garden gnome.
This wasn’t all that special, because she made me dress up as a garden gnome the rest of the year.
She’d force me to stand outside in the weeds and watch the street.
“It’s raining, Mom!” I yelled. “Can I come inside?”
The TV was too loud for her to hear me. Or she was passed out drunk.
Eventually, the county took me away and put me in a foster home.
Well, in front of a foster home.
I hate lawn gnomes.
Two Scoops
Kellogg’s says there are two scoops of raisins in every box.
However, they never say how big the scoops are.
I’ve seen some tiny scoops at the bulk candy store, and I’ve seen some huge scoops in the flour bins at the Whole Foods.
It’s not the huge scoops. Because the box would be all raisins and no bran.
And that “Two Scoops” phrase is on every box, big and small. Even those tiny boxes in the hotel’s continental breakfast buffet. So scoops aren’t the same size for every box?
I think they’re full of shit.
Two scoops of it.
Max Paints
Max opened up a paint store, but the signmaker got the order wrong, so the sign said MAX’S PANTS.
Everything said MAX’S PANTS on it: bank account, business license, and all that other stuff.
He tried to paint an I in between the A and the N on everything, but people kept coming into his store asking for the cuffs on a pair of trousers to be altered.
Max got fed up with the mistake, and began to paint the pants that people brought in.
And they loved it!
Galleries… art museums… all trying to get his pants into them!
The Gang
When I win the lottery, I’m going to start a gang.
We’ll have the coolest jackets.
And we’ll have pompadours so tall, they’ll block out the sun.
We’ll walk down the middle of the street
And snap our fingers menacingly.
My gang will be awesome.
Don’t tell me that my idea is dumb.
You’re just jealous that you can’t be in my gang.
Get your own gang.
With jackets. And pompadours. And snapping.
And our gangs will fight.
Our gang will out-snap your gang.
In our coolest jackets.
And our pompadours will block out your pompadours.
When I win.
WHEN!
Games Of Thrones
Somebody tried to get me to read Game Of Thrones, but I’m not all that interested in games. Or thrones.
So games with thrones? Doubly-uninteresting.
Do they play Musical Thrones, where the nobles circle the thrones and all try to sit down when the minstrels stop playing? Last person sitting is the new king?
Or do they play checkers with them?
I don’t think they do. Those thrones on the posters look awfully heavy. And some of them have really sharp edges.
Although the nobles could have their servants pick them up and move them around the room.
How boring.
History Of Art
The East end of Main Street starts with a few yellow hand prints in the middle of the road.
The hand prints give way to hunting scenes, and then simple geometric designs.
As you travel West, the lines in the road progress through the history of painting… Babylonian… Persian… Greek… Roman… at Fulton Street, you get some Byzantine frescoes and mosaics.
A bit of the Dutch Masters and French Impressionists as you pass the Library, then Dadaist and Surrealist before the splattered mess reminiscent of Jackson Pollock.
(That’s not intentional. That’s where the road painter got hit by a bus.)
Bad Baseball
Eight years ago, the Houston Astros were swept by the Chicago White Sox in the World Series.
The once-mighty teams are currently two of the worst teams in baseball, and I am watching them stink up the field with their cheap rookie rosters, with the occasional discount washed-up veteran.
Even the on-air announcers are worse. They’re so bored with the game, they’re watching other games and doing play-by-play on them.
They’re doing a great job with that other game, too.
Maybe they’re doing it to get out of this market and call real games.
I don’t blame them one bit.
Sitcom Dreams
For a while, it seemed like every stand-up comedian got their own sitcom.
Then, they all got talk shows, and celebrities were so worn out running from show to show, they had no time or energy to do all the stuff that made them celebrities in the first place.
The guests dried up, the audiences dried up, and finally the advertisers dried up.
The comedians lost their talk shows and tried to get sitcoms, but the sitcoms were all replaced with reality shows.
So, they started their own comedy clubs, and the young comedians flowed in… with their sitcom dreams.
Arts
The National Endowment For The Arts was founded to foster artists of all kinds.
Except one: con artists.
So, The National Endowment For Con Artists was started to foster them.
From all across the country they came to apply for grants: con artists, frauds, bamboozlers, and hucksters.
Some flew in from other countries with false documentation and credentials. When you think about it, faking up citizenship papers is a good test for your con artist skills.
In the end, the Endowment failed, because nobody on the board could agree on a definition of “legitimate” con artist with a straight face.