archive for the 'huh?' category

baaaaa

When I listen to audio recordings of comedy routines and the comic does a visual bit that I cannot see but at which the audience freaking loses it… I laugh too.

I don’t want anyone to think I don’t get the joke.

And I like the company.

nasal suckage

snot sucker! The Nosefrida.

For removal of snot from kids’ noses.

One end of tube — kid’s nostril. Other end — your mouth.

For real.

I’m mean, SERIOUSLY?? Does that kid not look like having her nose hoovered is, like, the most totally awesomest thing EVER?

[Begin imaginary scene in Jason's over-caffeinated brain.]

[Mother driving minivan. Kid in back seat, kicking driver's seat.]

Kid: MooOOoooom… JUICE BOX!

Mom: You can’t have a juice box.

Kid: But MooooOOoom… [Kick kick kick.] MooOOoooOOoom… COOKIE!

Mom: [Deep breath.] You can’t have a cookie.

Kid: MooOOOOooooOOOOOoooom… [Kick kick kick.] MoooOOOooooOOOOOooooooooo– [Runs out of air. Takes deep breath.] –oOOOooooOOOOoooOOMMMM! [Kick kick kick.] NOSEFRIDA!

Mom: SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I WILL LEAVE YOU ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND YOU CAN BE RAISED BY HOBOS OR RACCOONS I DON’T CARE ANY MORE YOU WILL HAVE YOUR NOSE SUCKED WHEN YOU GET HOME AND NOT A MOMENT SOONER.

[Silence. Kick kick kick.]

Kid: Hobos! [Pause.] HOBOS! Hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos…

[End imaginary scene in Jason's over-caffeinated brain.]

That’s it. I’m naming my first kid “Nosefrida”1.

1 Subject to Lovely Wife approval2.

2 Which means never3.

3 Damn. I never get to name anything.

i have returned (trumpets sound and angels weep)

I’m back. With many a tale to tell. And several impressive scabs.

No, I’m not picking at them.

(That’s a lie.)

It may take me an indeterminate amount of time to awaken my atrophied blogging muscles, so please be patient. Cookies may help.

(That’s a hint.)

But, in the meantime…

Is this true?

15 failed precursors to “more fun than a barrel of monkeys”

  1. “more fun than a damp paper bag of monkeys”
  2. “more fun than a courier bag of monkeys”
  3. “more fun than a CD jewel case of monkeys”
  4. “more fun than the trunk of a 1972 Dodge Dart of monkeys”
  5. “more fun than a walk-in freezer of monkeys”
  6. “more fun than a slurry of monkeys”
  7. “more fun than a distributed peer-to-peer network of monkeys”
  8. “more fun than a battalion of super-intelligent cybernetic soldier monkeys”
  9. “more fun than an apocalyptic rain of monkeys”
  10. “more fun than a dystopian future history of damn dirty apes”
  11. “more fun than a barrel containing a single monkey”
  12. “more fun than a barrel containing a succession of ever-smaller barrels”
  13. “more fun than a barrel of monks”
  14. “more fun than a barrel of monkfish”
  15. “more fun than Benjamin Disraeli”

coda to “no filter”

Well.

That… was odd.

I feel sort of squirmy inside having posted that.

I must share this squirmy feeling. It’s like the videotape in The Ring — I must share it or die a horrible yet off-screen death.

We wouldn’t want that now, would we?

(No, we all want my death to be horrible and on-screen.)

So, this is a shout out to my faithful readers — go and write your own stream ‘o’ consciousness! Just start typing. No backspacing. No fixin’ yir spellin. Just start to type.

Then we can compare!

And then laugh!

And laugh and laugh and laugh!

And then stare at each other uncomfortably.

And then laugh and laugh and laugh!

And then stare.