Trying to Find Creativity in the Bottom of a…

You thought I was going to say “bottle” didn’t you?

Nope, I’m trying to find creativity in the bottom of a pipe. I’m out of good cigars–my usual vice–so I put some acrid tasting, sweet smelling tobacco.

Almost no one reads this neglected blog, but if you do, comment on what YOU do to increase your own creative thoughts.

Free Burma

www.free-burma.org

About “Free Burma!”

International bloggers are preparing an action to support the peaceful revolution in Burma. We want to set a sign for freedom and show our sympathy for these people who are fighting their cruel regime without weapons. These Bloggers are planning to refrain from posting to their blogs on October 4 and just put up one Banner then, underlined with the words „Free Burma!“.

News: The Free Burma! Petition Widget for your Blog/Website! See our News for more Updates!

Join our list of participants

Show your sympathy for the Free Burma! action and sign our list of participants, whether or not you’re a blogger, website owner or someone who wants to point the way to democracy and freedom in Burma!

If you are a forum user or admin from a large website you can also participate in our “Groups for Free Burma!” action.

 

 

“Reg’lar” Jokes

I keep telling my wife: I’m more than just eye candy.

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My 21 year old comes to me the other day and tells me he’s due for an free upgrade on his phone and he can get a new phone free. So I tell him to get any phone you want.

Never tell a college student to “get any phone you want.” Tell them “Get any FREE phone you want.”

A few days later they deliver the phone–and a bill for $120. “I thought you said it was free?”

“OH, I thought you said I could get any phone I wanted?”

College students are like mini-lawyers.

So now my son has this super deluxe phone. His phone has a wide screen projector, holds up to 3 million songs, has surround sound, microwave oven. And it weighs less than a credit card.

I, on the other hand, have a 15lb dinosaur that lasts up to 10 minutes on a charge. Roaming? I get a signal within 10′ of a cell tower in 6 cities across the US.

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A friend of mine was going to meet his grandfather and asked me to come along: “My grandfather is an octogenarian” he tells me.

When we get there his grandfather had eight arms.

I scared him and he sprayed me with ink.

He has a friend named “Square Pants.”

And a beak.

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How drunk are you–on a scale of one to “duuuuuu”?

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My wife loves to cook. She comes to me the other day and asks what I want for supper. I was feeling frisky so I said, “How ’bout a wife sandwhich?” She said it wasn’t on the menu.

I said, “That’s OK, I’ll just eat out.”

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Never be friends with your doctor. I was at my Doctors house the other day for a cookout and in the middle of everything he asks me, “So, how’s that anal fissure doing?”

I was in the pool at the time–everybody cleared out. No one wants to swim with you when you have an anal fissure.

And the check-ups are tough too. He puts on that glove for my annual rectal exam and all I could think of was “I wish I could quit you.”

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I couldn’t be gay. All the holes in my body have a purpose and they’re all being used.

If I was gay I wouldn’t be a pitcher or a catcher, I would be the team bus driver.

(or the team equipment manager…first base coach…bat boy…?)

I would be the team cheerleader–I’d be all up for telling them their doing a great job, but I just want to stay on the sidelines and play with some pom-poms.

and maybe a megaphone

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I have a megaphone fetish

I even get turned on by traffic cones

1920’s crooners are sexy to me

Wouldn’t it be cool to take a megaphone with you everywhere you go?

You could just pick a random building, stand behind a car and say “Come out with your hands up and no one will get hurt.”

Everybody would run out in a panic, then you could say “line up over here.”

And everyone would do what you say, cause you’re the megaphone man. Megaphone man is like a god to regular people. You do what he says. You don’t even question cause he’s got a megaphone.

If you were about to get mugged by a guy with a gun, you could just use your megaphone. “Drop the gun.” And he would.

I would have gotten much better grades in gym class if I had a megaphone. When the coach told me to run, I could use my megaphone to tell him to drop and give me 20. And he would have, because I would have been megaphone man. Actually I would have been megaphone boy.

Yeah, a megaphone would be great.

I would use my megaphone at home, too. Like when my wife is running late you could go out to the car and instead of honking the horn you could say, “Exit the Building Now” and she would.

If you saw a natural disaster coming toward your friend–like a tornado or a really ugly chick–you could simply go “Look Out!” and it would save his life. Megaphones are life savers.

I want to be megaphone man. I could save the world.

If I was megaphone man I would go to political rallies. I would start one of those chants.

I would shout “Hell No! We Won’t go! Nor will we Settle for 21st Century Colonialism in the Middle East Covered by the Shoddy Excuse of a Terror Threat.”

Come on, say it with me.

I would order at drivethroughs from the next parking lot over. Then the guy would say “Pull up to the first window to pay” and I would say, “I can’t here you, you need a megaphone.”

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I hate drive throughs.

They always rush me. I’m still looking at the menu when they come on “can I help you?”

I say “just a second”

They say “Sure, whenever you’re ready”

But you know they are really thinking your a stupid dolt because McDonald’s hasn’t changed their menu since 1954, but as you think about how they think you’re stupid you can’t concentrate on the food. So then you just blurt out something.

“I’ll take a Big Mac and a Coke.”

I hate big macs. They’re all proud because they think they’re better than the double cheese burger cause they’ve got the extra middle bun. But who’s ever heard of a middle bun? What’s the point. It’s like your appendix.

If the bun gets infected they have to have a “Bun-endectomy”.

The Big Mac is a double cheeseburger with an appendix.

And organe gooey pickle juice stuff. They call it “special sauce.”

I don’t like special sauce.

Doesn’t special sauce just sound creepy? It’s like it didn’t pass FDA inspection.

“What’s in the sauce?” “It’s secret, I can’t tell you. But it’s special.”

I knew some kids in special ed. Is special sauce like regular sauce with a low IQ?

I mean, if you were walking down a dark alley and a guy came up to you in a black trench coat, opened it up and said “Hey I got some special sauce here, wanna try it?” would you?

That’s how they hook you. They give it to you free at first. Then, when your hooked, all of a sudden you’re buying Big Macs just to scrape off the sauce.

Before Sauceaholics Anonymous I had a 10 Mac a day habit. I was mainlining sauce through stolen straws.

That special sauce is a bad trip.

I’ve been Sauce free for 6 months.