I need to laugh more. You need to laugh more. We all have too much seriousness in our lives. So let’s laugh a little. At least once a week I’ll post here a “Funny of the Week.” I’ll start by drawing from my significant collection through many years of looking for funny jokes and stories. Please feel free to send me yours and we’ll all share in topical, timely, and CLEAN funnies. All of us need a good chuckle as often as possible. None of us laugh enough. Let’s all laugh together. Heck, maybe we’ll turn this into a contest! Reply with your funny in the comments section and keep watching for the “Funny of the Week!”
TODAY’S FUNNY OF THE WEEK: “NEW RULES”
New Rule: Stop showing me that pop-up ad for classmates.Com! There’s a reason you don’t talk to people for 25 years. Because you don’t particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days — mowing my lawn.
New Rule : There’s no such thing as flavored water. There’s a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket — water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That’s your flavored water.
New Rule : Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that’s square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, he will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule : I’m not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing “Enter,” verifying the amount, deciding no, I don’t want cash back, and pressing “Enter” again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule : No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it’s for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn’t gift giving; it’s the sophisticated version of looting.
New Rule (and this one is long overdue): No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can’t even tell if he’s supposed to be there or just some freak with a fetish. I don’t want to be fawned over, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don’t need to know in months. “27 Months.” “He’s two” will do just fine. He’s not a cheese. And I didn’t really care in the first place.
New Rule: If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then for God’s sake don’t pierce or tattoo every visible piece of flesh. If you do, then plan your future around saying “Do you want fries with that?”