Here's a collection of things that are
guaranteed to make me laugh or smile.
A good friend of mine sent me the link to this Dr. Tran video. I watch it very frequently (even got a tshirt with one of the images within the video). A bit of a warning: there is some "adult language" in this video. If swearing is not your bag you may want to pass.
The best skit from MTV's The State -
$240 Worth of Puddin' - YouTube Link
(Couldn't be embedded - check it out to see the mastery that is
Barry and Levon from the old show on MTV called The State)
Below are the two other Barry and Levon skits. Pure genius.
I don't know why this photo below cracks me up - but it can get me laughing so hard I'm doubled over and crying.
Below are some bits of comedy gold. Even though I don't drink beer I love the Bud Light Presents radio commercials. Mr. Really Bad Toupee Wearer is my all time favorite. And then there is Shirley Q. Liquor. Very funny stuff. Yes, there are two bits of her talking about the movie Titanic. They are on the same topic but different enough to be worth listening to both.
| Bud Light Presents - Mr. Really Bad Toupee Wearer |
| Shirley Q. Liquor - Titanic (short version) |
| Shirley Q. Liquor - Titanic (long version) |
Alanis' version of The Black Eyed Peas' My Humps is hysterical on its own. But the video ups the funny factor way high.
The Big Bang Theory is definitely my favorite show. And this clip below is something I walk around singing (particuarily to Kirby) over and over.
I love stand up comedy. Jim Gaffigan I find very hysterical. This bit about Hot Pockets has made me laugh so hard I've cried. Also I find Mitch Fatel to be a hoot. I wish I could find a youtube clip of one of his routines I heard on Sirius radio. But the clip below is pretty darned funny.
As I mentioned before I love the Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich. Here is a passage from the book Hard Eight that had me laughing hysterically when I read it. Enjoy!
I limped back to the concession stand and got a Coke and a box of Cracker Jacks. Cracker Jacks don’t count as junk food because they’re corn and peanuts, which we know to be high in nutrition. And they have a prize inside.
I walked the short distance to the water’s edge, opened the box of Cracker Jacks, and a goose rushed up to me and pecked me in the knee. I jumped back, but he kept coming at me, honking and pecking. I threw a Cracker Jack as far as I could, and the goose scrambled after it. Big mistake. Turns out, tossing a Cracker Jack is the goose equivalent to a party invitation. Suddenly geese were rushing at me from every corner of the park, running on their stupid goose webbed feet, waggling their fat goose asses, flapping their big goose wings, their beady, black goose eyes fixed on my Cracker Jacks. They fought among themselves as they charged me, squawking, honking, viciously snapping, jockeying for position.
“Run for your life, honey! Give them the Cracker Jacks,” an old lady yelled from a nearby bench. “Throw them the box, or those honkers’ll eat you alive!”
I held tight to my box. “I didn’t get to the prize. The prize is still in the box.”
“Forget the prize!”
There were geese flying in from across the lake. Hell, for all I knew they could have been flying in from Canada. One of them hit me square in the chest and sent me sprawling. I let out a shriek and lost my grip on the box. The geese attacked with no regard for human or goose life. The noise was deafening. Goose wings beat against me, and goose toenails ripped holes in my T-shirt.
It seemed like the feeding frenzy lasted for hours, but in fact it was maybe a minute. The geese departed as quickly as they came, and all that was left were goose feathers and goose poop. Huge, gelatinous globs of goose poop….as far as the eye could see.
An old man was on the bench with the old woman. “You don’t know much, do you?” he said to me.
And now here is one of Dave Barry's columns. I still remember sitting in the office I worked at and laughing hysterically over this as I read it. I will bold that part that nearly had me wetting my pants.
DAVE BARRY: Doodie duty: What dad does best Dave Barry Sunday, May 7, 2000
When people ask me, ""Dave, what's it like to have a newborn baby in the household?"" I immediately answer: (nothing).
This is because I am sleeping. I spend a lot of my day in an unconscious state, because my two-month-old daughter, Sophie, does not believe in sleeping at night. She feels that the nighttime hours are best used for making loud, inexplicable, Exorcist-style noises. At 3:30 a.m., her bassinet will suddenly start shaking like an unbalanced clothes dryer and erupt with a wide range of squeaks, gurgles, chirps, snorts, snuffles, grunts, etc. It does not sound like there's a lone baby in there. It sounds like the entire Barnyard of the Demons. (Which would be an excellent name for a band.)
Sophie routinely makes noises that cannot be explained by the known laws of physics. Recently, some friends came over to admire her, and we had her all dressed up in a cute little baby outfit featuring little bloomers with cherries on them, and while everybody was gathered around admiring how sweet and delicate and innocent she looked, Sophie - who is, physically, no larger than a standard pumpkin - cut loose with a series of massive, resonating, bloomer-inflating bodily blasts that you would think could be produced only by a 350-pound man who had just won a burrito-eating contest. If I had not been holding her firmly at the time, I believe she would have propelled herself, missile-style, through the ceiling.
""How ... cute!"" our friends said, as the aroma wafted around us, fog-like.
I'm not saying that all Sophie does is make noises. As a brand-new human being with an inquisitive mind, she also is exploring the mystery and magic of the world around her, by which I mean she is trying to get her hands completely into her mouth. This is her primary goal in life. Her arms and legs constantly wave around in a random manner, and every now and then, when a hand happens to land on her mouth, she becomes excited and starts sucking on it like crazy. But then, without warning, the arm yanks the hand away, which makes Sophie VERY angry. If she ever finds out who is operating her arms, she is going to give that person a piece of her mind, if she ever figures out how to talk.
Yes, it's an exciting time in our household, a time of learning and growing and having plastic bags of frozen breast milk in the freezer next to the Tater Tots. In our family, we strongly believe in breastfeeding, which has many benefits, the main one being: Men cannot do it. Not that I don't contribute! I'm always giving my wife useful breastfeeding pointers, such as: ""Time for you to breastfeed her!"" And: ""Time for you to breastfeed her again!"" And: ""I would gladly breastfeed her, but, tragically, I am a man.""
(Actually, I suspect that men CAN breastfeed; it's just that, in the entire history of the human race, no man has ever actually tried.)
I do change diapers. A LOT. It is a known baby fact that babies put out far more material than they take in; physicists now believe that babies account for most of the matter in the universe. If you were to stack up all the diapers I have changed in just two months, one on top of the other, you would never be invited to a party again for the rest of your life.
Our house would smell like a malfunctioning sewage plant, except that we have a product called the Diaper Genie, which encloses diapers in a long, odor-proof plastic bag. As a parent, I believe this is the greatest of all humanity's inventions, including lowfat Cheez-Its. You take your diaper, you put it into your Diaper Genie, you twist the plastic bag, and, as the French say, Voila! (Literally, ""You are not smelling any more the poop."")
When your Diaper Genie fills up, you open the bottom and remove an amazing, 15-foot-long, segmented, caterpillar-like Chain of Doodies. We've been throwing these away, but it seems to me we ought to be turning them over to the U.S. Air Force as a potentially devastating military weapon. If we were to merely THREATEN to drop one of these babies on Iraq, Saddam Hussein would break his fingers dialing the Surrender Hotline.
Another excellent item of modern baby technology is the battery-powered swing. When your baby is in a bad mood because she cannot get her hand inside her mouth, you put her in this swing and let it rock her gently into a blissful state of suspended baby animation lasting long enough that sometimes you can actually take a shower. This device works so well that I think we should make a larger version and use it to calm hyperactive adults, starting with both major candidates for president. If you're a psychiatric professional who would like to explore this idea, let's schedule a meeting. I want to sleep on your couch.
Dave Barry is a humor columnist for the Miami Herald. Write to him c/o The Miami Herald, One Herald Plaza, Miami FL 33132.
I love Weird Al. Here's a few of my favorite Weird Al tunes.
| Another One Rides The Bus |
| Trigger Happy |
| One More Minute |
I love the movie Mary Poppins. Here's the video to a song after my own heart: "I Love to Laugh"
I cried and couldn't stop laughing for at least five solid minutes.
The first time I saw this I was helpless with laughter. I seriously love sarcasm. Plus the idea of a Bear being on the cover of People magazine cracked me up. Good times.
