Tag Archives: fun

Vanilla Pudding

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There are few stories that are too funny to be untrue. But even fewer of those get printed on the first page. Here is one.

Excerpted from an article which appeared in the Dublin Times about a bank robbery on March 2, 1999.

Once inside the bank shortly after midnight, their efforts at disabling the internal security system got underway immediately.

The robbers, who expected to find one or two large safes filled with cash and valuables, were surprised to see hundreds of smaller safes scattered throughout the bank. The robbers cracked the first safe’s combination, and inside they found only a bowl of vanilla pudding.

As recorded on the bank’s audio tape system, one robber said, “At least we’ll have a bit to eat.” The robbers opened up a second safe, and it also contained nothing but vanilla pudding. The process continued until all the safes were opened.

They found not one pound sterling, a diamond, or an ounce of gold. Instead, all the safes contained covered bowls of pudding.

Disappointed, the robbers made a quiet exit, each leaving with nothing more than a queasy, uncomfortably full stomach.

The newspaper headline read:

“IRELAND’S LARGEST SPERM BANK ROBBED EARLY THIS MORNING.”

Season Ticket

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Sarah and her Husband

Sarah was reading a newspaper, while her husband was engrossed in a magazine. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. “Listen to this,” she said. “There’s a classified ad here where a guy is offering his wife for a season ticket to the stadium.”

“Hmmm,” her husband said, not looking up from his magazine.

Teasing him, Sarah said, “Would you swap me for a season ticket?”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“How sweet,” Sarah said. “Tell me why not.”

“Season’s more than half over,” he said.

 

SOBER MAN: 0 to 22 in three hours.

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I used to think that Red Bull was the most destructive invention of the past 50 years. I was wrong. Red Bull has been usurped by the portable alcohol breathalyzer. The same device that cops have been using for 10 years to conduct field sobriety tests is now offered by the Sharper Image for $99. It is the size and shape of a small cell phone with a clear round tube sticking up from the top, almost like an antenna. One blows into the tube, and a few seconds later a Blood Alcohol Content (BAC) reading is given. Though not as accurate as a blood test, they are accurate to within .01, which is good enough for my purposes.

I was living in Boca Raton, Florida, when I bought one to take out with me on a Saturday night. This is the story:

9:00pm: Arrive at the restaurant. I am the first one of the group there, even though our reservations are for 9pm. The restaurant is crowded full of the abysmal type of people that infest South Florida. Already depressed, I order a vodka and club soda.

9:10: Two 30+ year-old Jewish women on my left keep eyeing me. Both have fake breasts. One has exceptionally large fake breasts. They are beckoning me from her shirt. She is not highly attractive. I begin drinking faster.

9:15: No one else has arrived. I order my third vodka and club. While I wait for it, I try out my portable breathalyzer. I blow a .02. This is the greatest invention ever made. I am giddy. I show the breathalyzer to the fake-breasted Jewish women next to me. We begin a conversation.

9:16: They both have thick Long Island accents. I summon the bartender over and change my order to a tall double vodka on the rocks, splash of club.

9:23: Four people at the bar have tried my breathalyzer, both of the fake-breasted women included. Everyone wants to know their BAC. I am the center of attention. I am happy.

9:25: The first member of my group arrives. I show him the breathalyzer. He is enthralled. He buys a round. The fake-breasted women loudly inform us they would like drinks. My friend buys them drinks. I order a double vodka on the rocks. No splash.

9:29: I blow again, a .04. I’ve been drinking for half an hour, and am on my forth drink. My wheels of intellect begin grinding through the vodka haze that is already forming…four drinks…a .04…that must mean that each drink only adds .01 to my BAC. I begin to think that I can drink a lot. I tell one of the fake-breasted women that she is very interesting.

9:38: Six of the eight are here. I lie to the hostesses, and they seat our incomplete party. Everyone is talking about my breathalyzer. I am the focus of adulation. I forgive everyone for sucking so bad. I think this night may go OK after all.

9:40: I blow again, a .05. This confuses me. I haven’t ordered another drink since I blew a .04. I have a vague memory from a long distant D.A.R.E. class about the rate of alcohol absorption being constant, regardless of speed of drinking. This memory quickly fades when two hot girls at the table next to me inquire about my portable breathalyzer.

10:04: The novelty of the portable breathalyzer has passed. The table has moved on. I am no longer the center of attention. I am not happy with my table.

10:10: .07

10:17: .08. I am no longer legally eligible to drive in the state of Florida. I announce this fact to no one in particular.

10:26: .09

10:27: I decide that I am going to see how drunk I can get and still be functional. I know that .35 BAC kills most people. I think that .20 is a good goal.

10:28: I get up, saying nothing to the seven sophists at my table, and go back to the bar. I don’t leave money for my drinks.

10:29: The fake-breasted women are still at the bar. They want drinks. Upset that I’m only at .09 after a good hour and a half of aggressive drinking, I decide to do a round of shots. I let the women pick the shots, with the explicit instruction that it cannot be whiskey, cannot smell like whiskey, cannot even resemble whiskey.

10:30: The shots arrive. Tequila. Judging by the bill, very good tequila. It is smooth. We order another round.

11:14: I blow a .15. I have passed a milestone. Only .05 away from my goal. My pride swells. I show everyone my .15. The bar crowd is impressed. I am their idol. Someone buys me a shot.

11:28: I feel queasy. I realize that I didn’t even stick around the table for dinner. Not wanting to either go back to my table or eat at the bar, I walk across the street to a sushi restaurant.

11:29: There is a lingerie party at the sushi restaurant. Half of the people are in some form of pajamas or other bedtime clothing. Everyone here sucks as bad as the last place, except they are in their underwear.

11:30: I am confused. I only want sushi. I stand at the door, mesmerized by the shifting masses of near nakedness. A mildly attractive girl who apparently works at the restaurant wants me to put on lingerie. I tell her I don’t have any. I just want some sushi. She says I should at least take off my pants. I ask her if this will get me sushi. She says it will. I take off my pants.

11:31: I take off my pants. I have on pink and white striped Gap boxers. They are too tight. I make sure my package is tucked in. People watch me do this.

11:32: I order sushi by pointing at the pictures and grunting.

11:33: I show a guy at the sushi bar my breathalyzer. He is impressed. He shows it to everyone. People begin congregating around me. I am a star again.

11:41: I blow a .17. I tell everyone my goal. Someone orders me a shot.

11:42: I do the shot. Something that has a familiar taste, makes me feel warm inside. I ask what it is. “Cognac and Alize.” There is a God, and he hates me.

11:47: My sushi arrives. I slosh soy sauce over it and shovel it into my mouth as quickly as my hands will get it there.

11:49: My sushi is finished. No one is paying attention to my table manners, as everyone is crowded around the breathalyzer, waiting their turn to find out their BAC.

12:18: I blow a .20. I AM A GOD. The sushi bar erupts. Men are applauding me. Girls are pining for me. Everyone wants to talk to me. I forgive them their flaws, as they are all paying attention to me.

12:31: My deity status is lost. Someone blows a .22. This is a challenge to my manhood. I order a depth charge with a Bacardi 151 shot. And a beer back. The crowd is in awe.

12:33: I finish the depth charge, and the beer. I talk shit to my challenger, “Who runs this bar now, B*****??” The crowd erupts. Momentum has swung back in my direction. I am Maximus. I am winning the crowd. I will rule the sushi bar.

12:54: I blow a .22. Only mild cheers this time. Everyone is waiting for the challenger to blow.

12:56: He blows a .24. He smiles condescendingly at me. I order two more shots.

12:59: I do the first shot. It doesn’t go down well. I decide to take a short break from drinking. The crowd is not impressed.

1:10: Reality sets in. I am going to vomit. A LOT. I try to discreetly make it outside.

1:11: I knock a girl over as I sprint through the door.

1:11: I trip over a bush, stumble into it, and begin throwing up. Out of my mouth. And nose. It is not pleasant.

1:14: I can’t figure out why my legs hurt so much. I look down at them in between heaves. I have no pants on. Thorns and branches are embedded in my shins.

1:21: I go back into the sushi restaurant. A few people stare at me in a peculiar manner. I look down, and then tuck my partially exposed sack back into my boxers. I don’t know what to do about my bleeding legs. I look around for my pants.

1:24: I can’t find my pants. My breathalyzer is in clear sight. I blow. A .23. Someone informs me that my challenger just blew a .26. They add that he hasn’t thrown up yet. I tell them to “kiss my fucking a**.” My last clear memory.

8:15am: I wake up. I don’t know where I am. It is very hot. I am sweating horribly. It smells like rotting flesh.

8:16: I am in my car. With the windows up. The sun is beating down directly on me. It is at least 125 degrees in my car. I open the door and try to get out, but instead I fall onto the pavement. The scabs that cover my legs tear and reopen as I move.

8:19: The fetid standing water finally propels me into full consciousness. I can’t find my pants. Or cell phone. Or wallet. But I do have my breathalyzer. I blow. A .09. I am still not eligible to drive in the state of Florida.

8:22: I drive home anyway.
Let me be clear about this night: it was in my top 5 drunkest nights ever. I was completely shit-housed. I threw up multiple times, some of them through my nose. JESUS CHRIST, I WOKE UP blowing a .09. That’s fucking ridiculous. That thing is awful. All you do is drink in order to increase your BAC. That device is the devil dressed in a transistor.

My advice to you: avoid it at all costs.

****

borrowed from: http://www.tuckermax.com

***BoxerDog***

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The Americans and Russians, at the height of the arms race, realized that if they continued in the usual manner they were going to blow up the whole world.
One day they sat down and decided to settle the whole dispute with one dog fight. They’d have five years to breed the best fighting dog in the world and whichever side’s dog won would be entitled to dominate the world. The losing side would have to lay down its arms.
The Russians found the biggest, meanest Doberman and Rottweiler ——- in the world and bred them with the biggest meanest Siberian wolves. They selected only the biggest and strongest puppy from each litter, killed his siblings, and gave him all the milk. They used steroids and trainers and after five years came up with the biggest meanest dog the world had ever seen. Its cage needed steel bars that were three inches thick and nobody could get near it.
When the day came for the fight, the Americans showed up with a strange animal. It was a nine-foot long Dachshund. Everyone felt sorry for the Americans because they knew there was no way that this dog could possibly last ten seconds with the Russian dog.
When the cages were opened up, the Dachshund came out and wrapped itself around the outside of the ring. It had the Russian dog almost completely surrounded. When the Russian dog leaned over to bite the Dachshund’s neck, the Dachshund reached out and consumed the Russian dog in one bite. There was nothing left at all of the Russian dog. The Russians came up to the Americans, shaking their heads in disbelief. `We don’t understand how this could have happened. We had our best people working for five years with the meanest Doberman and Rottweiler ——- in the world and the biggest, meanest Siberian wolves.”
“That’s nothing,” an American replied. “We had our best plastic surgeons working for five years to make an alligator look like a Dachshund.”

“$0.99 Only”

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I was asked to write a story that includes some given elements, here are the elements:
1. Kermit, the klutz
2. Spelunking
3. Bobbie Sue (one leg), Grandpa (alien abductee?), Tookie (stoner dog)
4. Dark tone
5. Neon-pink umbrella
6. Nisha, Kermit’s exact opposite (met in a hospital)

This is my response, hope you like it…

Albeit a single bed, a small cupboard with an even smaller bathroom hardly makes for an house but for the sleepy head this ancestral home was much more than what he could have put up with his $3 an hour pay at ‘$0.99 only’. That night would have been like any other if it hadn’t been for that damn phone call.

it was half past 3 and Kermit was sleeping in his ‘bedrom’, coz two O’s demands a lot more space. The night was dark, there were no clouds and no soul in the street to break the deafening silence. With his trusted Tookie, a dog even more peculiar than its name, by his side guarding his masters belongings. Few utensils, some ugly photo frames, a pre WWII radio and a few clothes doesn’t really need any guarding but Tookie was up to it.  It was then, when the phone rang.

It was the Holly Family Hospital, His old man was in the psychiatric ward, ever since he went spelunking and was abducted by the aliens he hasn’t found this ignorant and at times mocking world very sane. Apparently Looney was refusing medicine. It took sleepy head  forty minutes of walk coupled with a a very expensive cab ride to reach there. But by the time he got there pa was back into his extra terrestrial dreams as if panic attack never happened, poor Kermit.

Disappointed and relived came out of the hospital he, looking for a yet another expensive cab ride, this time back to home. Also In search of the cab was someone else. Slim, about five and a half, looked his age, dressed in a black track suit she claimed to be from the same neighborhood , but he had never seen her. That was plausible since except his dad and few others from work sleepy didn’t knew anybody. And the only interactions he had with the opposite gender was with the chubby old ones that came to his store. Thrift, Kermit asked her to share a cab, she agreed. The girl had came to see her grandmother who also had a panic attack, poor girl.

The cab took almost an hour to reach its destination and our sleepy head about half an hour to ask her name, Nisha it was. They chatted a lot in the latter part of the journey; He told her all about his forefathers, she nodded a lot.  They were near their destination but decided to leave the cab and walk rest of the distance. Although he sternly protested but they shared the fare. He told her every story he could manage from his timid life, some of them were even real. Kermit’s house came first, as they were about to part their ways and were saying goodbyes. What kermit saw ran shivers down his spine, The bedroom light was on.

even with a history of klutziness, kermit was sure that he checked the lights before he left. Hurriedly and horridly they ran through the stairs. And to add to his horrors the door was ajar. They went inside, the whole house was in mess and sitting in the looney’s rocking chair old, wise, crocked, short, stocky with crutch in his one hand and a gun in the other and a hint of a grin peaking from the thicket that has grown on his face one legged Bobbie sue politely asked “Where is my gold ?”.

Gold! Kermit wasn’t sure that any one in his family has even seen gold. Even upon his repeated rejections Bobby sue didn’t acquiesced. He was in no mood to leave without his gold. He was sure that the gold he and Looney discovered while spelunking was hidden somewhere in this house. Bobby stood up pointed the gun at NIsha and asked for the one final time Whare izz mah ghold!..? . In reply sleepy whistled but nothing happened, to both nisha’s and bobby’s amazement he whistled again, again nothing happened. “Where is Tookie?” Asked Kermit. With a shimmer in his eyes “some where safe, but not for long“Sue replied.

Bobby left the building saying that they both have two hours to get him the gold otherwise he can forget “the damn dog!”. Kermit told her that she can leave but Nisha was very cooperative. She asked him wether his father ever mentioned or hinted at any thing to him about this, the reply was negative. Sleepy was sure that of all the conversations that took place in this house between him and his old man gold was never mentioned or hinted in any one of them.

They began searching the house, first they emptied the cupboard, although most of it was already on the floor. As Nisha was going through rest of the stuff. Kermit stood on his tows and with his arms stretched above his head, he searched the top of the cupboard with his eyes closed as he was trying to feel even the slightest of the things that could have been placed there.  Even with his arms stretched he couldn’t get to the backend of the surface. So he decided to jump and give a full swipe of his hand. He did the same and to his luck he actually hit something it fell on the ground but so did the klutzy.

It was the ugly photo frames wrapped in a thin clothe. The clothe wasn’t much of the protector, Sharp edge of one of the frames pierced the cloth, dented the wooden floor and also it self. The dull pink color from the edge came off and instead of the expected black color the frame was made up of some amber colored metal. He purposely scratched all three rest of them and they all were of the same build.

With glitter in his eyes and sheer bewilderment on his face he looked at the frames in his hand, they were quite heavy but he didn’t mind. It was then, when nisha snapped the frames from his hand and reminded him of Tookie, whom she never met, and his love for the dogs, nisha loved pet dogs.  The thought of running away with both the frames and nisha came to his mind several time but so did the happy memories of the stoner face. It was nearly dawn, With a heavy heart he went to the pre-decided meeting point and exchanged the frames for the damn dog. He patted Tookie, on his way back, he turned and ask NIsha “I guess you aren’t coming”  to which she replied “not without my dad and the Gold”.

Kermit was back at work, as usual he went up the ladder procured the asked item, came down the ladder. But this time was different, though he was at work his mind was somewhere else, he was thinking about the adventures of last night and how few hours back for roughly sixty minutes he had a fortune and a beautiful girl.As he handed over the neon pink umbrella to an old chubby lady, she asked “how much?“.
“$0.99 only” he replied.

Morning Glory

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how should i go about this..

um….

okhay!

Let me start by telling you something about me. I love mother earth and everything about it , well not everything but many things, I love the wonderful water falls, the lush green grasses, the exotic jungles, from the mighty Himalayas to the tiny insects especially the teeny ones….I can go on and on but you got the gist.

and as one wise human has said “It is in the early morning hour that the unseen is seen, and that the far-off beauty and glory, vanquishing all their vagueness, move down upon us till they stand clear as crystal close over against the soul”. I too love the mornings, I love waking up early in the morning and taking my long and adventurous morning walks. but today i had the most extraordinary one.

It started like usual, I woke up before everyone else even before the sun, and very quietly I exited the house. I walked very quietly escaping the sight of  everyone else who was in the way, people wondering in the night just creeps me out.

as I walk down the streets, I find myself immersed by its serenity. Up till now, there are no words to describe the morning picture; not a single syllable. Many admire the autumn day, but when better to see the warm orange glow of the sun then dawn! Walking alongside the road brings you to numerous scenic locations. The way the sunlight hits the buildings; the outline of the magnificent constructions.To complete the scene, autumn trees of all sorts and colors crouched at the sides. The leaves have not abandoned the trees yet, although the vibrancy of its contours faded slightly. It is as if there is an unwritten change, that when something grows old and dies, something else awakens to replace the dead.

But before I could gasp the picturesque beauty in all its glory, the movement on the road had increased, there were a lot more people now. As I made my way past them, carefully avoiding each and every one of them I passed by a dog, maybe I was a little ‘too close’, probably I brushed him but to add to my horrors he was loose.

What then, I ran on my all fours and he on his. We were like bonnie and clyde, inseparable. We went past the tree lines, crossed a river, by the time we reached the outskirts my stamina had started to give away. With every passing second I was breathing more and more heavily. We crossed the large fields and came over the landfills. I could sense that my face had turned red with all that running, my legs were cramping up but I couldn’t let my self inhale that air for even one second and from there with my hand covering my nose and mouth I ran on my all threes. But he was a dog possessed, The incredibly fouled air had no impact on him. But somehow we made our way passed the landfills and landed on a construction site, and as I was about free my nose from its confinement, there I saw the board which said ‘Sulfur Mines’. My face was colorless, the heart was about to burst out of the chest, the stamina was ceasing, I lost all the feelings in the legs, the lungs were bagging for air, but I ran. As I was about to collapsed and let the dog has his way with me, there I saw a boundary wall. A wall taller than the mount Fuji itself, surely the damn dog cant climb that. And with one hand on my nose with my trembling legs I went towards the wall but the dog was determined too and with every passing moment I was conceding my lead so with all my might for one last hoorah!, like a tiger trying to catch its pray, I pounced on the wall and scaled it in seconds. Finally! I was free, I have won.

I had succeeded,my predicament had finally ended, no more dog, no more running and a lot of air. Fresh, cool, sweet air. Ah! air you beauty you almost took my breath away.

As the respiratory system was getting back on its feet, the eyes were busy scanning the premises and they stopped on a sign, a sign which had a black solid fan inscribed in a solid yellow circle inscribed in a triangle. I didn’t get it either so I looked for more clues and then I saw a board which read ‘Plutonium decomposes highly radioactive, wear mask at all times’.

That was my story. And here I am writing all that down as planets first talking lizard or the first one to confessed so.

Rabbit vs Tortoise,The lost word

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I might have been six or seven when my dad first told me the tale of the rabbit who lost to a tortoise. And like any other kid of my age my reaction to the story was,lets just say quite predictable. I laughed at the stupidity and over confidence of the rabbit and was impressed by the determination of the tortoise, believed that hard work conquers all, blah blah.

Few weeks later me and my family went on a picnic near the woods. I still vaguely remember the day,where I was about to had the adventure of my life (but more on that later). It was like an any other warm spring evening. Mom and dad were sitting on a mat,chatting while me and my brother were playing catch, actually it was more of a fetch the ball where he used to throw the ball as far as he could and I was to get it back as fast as I can, let me tell you, for a guy who is just 4 years older than me he had amazingly strong arms or as he used to call them ‘bazookas’. It was getting late, so with all his might he bazooked it for one last time and it landed in the woods and as the game was, I went after it. I went deep inside the woods, in search of a green tennis ball. I was looking for the ball when I felt a moist breath on my elbow and then the voice came from behind “find your ball here you will not”. Horrified! I turned around and standing in front of me was a brute dressed in a brown sack towering about half a meter, stooping on a cane, a little green rabbit. For a boy who grew up listening about jungle folks finding a talking rabbit in jungle was, well pretty awesome.

There he told me a number of incredible stories I can’t recall most of them but I do remember one in vivid details, the one which completely shocked me. And that is the one I’m going to share now.

The old green rabbit in his soft and feeble voice spoke in weirdly constructed short sentences. He told me about 800 years ago when he was a young strongly built chap, he used to be the fastest runner the jungle had ever saw. The word about his accomplishments spread throughout the great greens, he became popular every animal wanted to be like him, every lady animal wanted to be with him and this success went into his head. He became disrespectful and inconsiderate towards other animals. Years passed, when he was about to announced his retirement there came an old cat in black boots, who challenged him that his nephew the blue eyed, torto can beat him anytime, anywhere. The rabbit, being too proud in his abilities, first laughed off the challenge but the sheer audacity of the cat to challenge the lightning bolt with such a slothful creation grew on him. He accepted the challenge announcing that it will be his last race, little did he knew of the clever ways of the cat. The race was set in for a two weeks time. For two weeks the rabbit trained hard for his last race, while the  cat went around the race track again and again as if memorizing every nook and corner.

Then came the race day, it was a long race as they had to lap the entire town and the whole town was waiting for them at the finish line. But just before the race, in the name of a friendly gesture the cat offered him a taco and being gracious enough the rabbit accepted it. Shortly after the race started the rabbit took an unassailable lead over tort and as he passed through the thick chaparrals his vision started to get blurry, dizziness overpowered his senses and he collapsed but the force inside him was strong, he regained his conscientiousness within minutes. He was sure that even with the time wasted in the woods he would still win the race as torto wouldn’t have gone more than a few blocks. As he ran even faster the sight of finish line grew in his eyes, but what he saw was beyond his worst nightmare. He looked at the proceeding ghastly as torto was being crowned the champion, his radiant brown eyes pierced rabbit’s heart.

Several weeks later he found out that the old cat has not one but two twin nephews the blue eyed torto and brown eyed iese. Feeling betrayed he went to town after town saying that it was torto and iese who defeated him , every animal who heard the sad tale of the rabbit felt sorry for him and was left a little impressed by the cleverness of the old cat. For years they recited the rabbit’s tale to each other on dinner, in family outings or over bonfires. They called it – the tale of the rabbit who lost to torto and iese. Over the many -many retelling that took place, few things were added to the story and a few details were omitted, one of them was ‘and’ in the title.