I can’t tell you how many times a doctor or midwife said “pregnant people” or “when a person is pregnant”, or the like, while I was pregnant.  I mean seriously.  Political correctness has its place, but that one she-male aside, only women are pregnant!

We were talking about YouTube videos the other night and the title of this one came up.  The closest I’ve come to watching it (ew…gross) is watching some of the reaction videos.  I love xkcd.com and find their comics very timely in my life.

Okay, maybe it was just that first sentence, but I know exactly what my dad is trying to say when he doesn’t say it. And when people ask me if my parents like Jon, I’m all, like Jon? Hmm. How do I put this? They think Jesus sent him.

When people ask me if my husband and parents get along, I usually say, “Well, if we ever got a divorce, I think my parents would really miss me.”   My father tells people they were sure I would never get married (I was 24 when we started dating; 26 when we married).

But my mother didn’t think I would ever get married, not when I was a spinsterly 24 years old. Who would want a woman so shriveled up by life? So I got mine early. And then along came Jon and he was all, I like ‘em shriveled up!

Six years later  (on Sunday), I am not sure where I would be if he hadn’t been willing to marry me.

We got 21 out of 32, I think. We also have a potential loss of at least 5 picks in the next round.

Best Lady found a big screw up!  I have Wanda vs Ferris with Young Frankenstein winning.  Duh.  I emailed Jeff and I hope he will let me change it.  If so, I will post a new version of the brackets.

A 22-year-old kid is sent to a maximum security prison for larceny. Benefiting from a cliché often found in prison stories, he ends up with an older, veteran cellmate who takes a liking to him and helps him get acclimated to prison life.The first night in the cell block, the kid hears something strange. Other prisoners are calling out numbers in the darkness.”Sixteen!”All the prisoners laugh, except for the new kid.

“Twenty-five!”

More laughter.

And so on. The kid asks his cellmate to explain what everyone’s laughing at.

“Well, at night, we’ve got nothing better to do than to tell jokes.”

“But they’re not jokes. They’re just numbers.”

“That’s all you know. Thing is, we’ve all been here so long that we’ve heard all each other’s jokes so often that we’ve memorized them. So rather than tell the whole joke again, we’ve numbered ‘em all. Now we just remind each other of the joke by calling out the number.”

So the kid calls out, “Eleven!”

The entire cell block erupts in almost hysterical laughter.

Then the guy in the next cell calls out, “Fifteen!” Crickets.

The kid asks, “What happened?”

His cellmate answers, “That guy never could tell a joke.”

That is one of my all time favorite jokes. Just the line “That guy never could tell a joke.” can crack me up. And…sadly, it is reminiscent of me, I never remember the whole joke (unless it is short), but punchlines…I can do punchlines.

1. “I pissed in its ear.”
2. “It is dark in here.”
3. “Wrecked’im hell, it killed ‘im.”
4. Jesus Johnson
5. “Anyone can roast beef.”
6. “Sand”

1906 – Henny Youngman, American comedian (d. 1998)
1926 – Jerry Lewis, American comedian

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1985 – The first Internet domain name is registered (symbolics.com).

I hate the Garfield comic strip. Not as much as I hate Mother Goose & Grimm and Shoe, but right up there. A friend sent me a link to this great modified version of the strips.

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life?
Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against lonliness and methamphetamine addiction in a quiet American suburb.

Read it. Love it. Live it.

This very funny story comes from Rottin’ in Denmark. You really need to read the whole thing.

[audible gasp] ‘If that computer’s only two weeks old, how are you checking your e-mails from November?!’ [Makes 'gotcha' face.]
Me: ‘Wait. What?! These are on the internet. They aren’t on my computer.’
Doughface: ‘You just said it was two weeks old, but those e-mails say November!’ [Gotcha Face intensifies to David Caruso Face]
Me: ‘Internet!’
Doughface: ‘If it’s only two weeks old –’
Me: Internet.

The italics seemed to do it. Doughface backed off for a few minutes. We moved into my roommate’s room.

She has an original iMac.

‘We have your roommate’s permission to confiscate her computer,’ the Ichabod Crane one said.
‘Whatever,’ I said. They had already assured me that we would get our laptops back that afternoon, so I figured the damage had already been done. Ichabod started rooting around under her desk.
‘Where’s the computer?’ he said.
‘On the desk. That’s the computer,’ I said.

After I sent the link to the lord, via IM, he laughs and repeats “the italics…” and then he says to me, “What sort of hand motion do you suppose goes with that?” So we started talking with our hands out slanted a little. Now, instead of air quotes, you can use our hands signals to make it a little clearer.

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He gets to demonstrate, cause he’s cuter than me.