Tag Archives: Humor

Compliments of Momma Dunn: 1,374

Standard

I received the following email  from my mother.  My guess is that it’s a warning.

DEAR DESPERATE , (I take it that’s me… kinda harsh)
First, keep in mind that Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system.

Please enter command: ithoughtyoulovedme. html and try to download Tears 6.2 and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update. If that application works as designed, Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications
Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5.

However, remember, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1 . Please note that Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will download the Farting and Snoring
Loudly Beta .

Whatever you do, DO NOT under any circumstances install Mother-In-Law 1.0 (it runs a virus in the background that will eventually seize control of all your system resources).

In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program. These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0 .

In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance. We recommend Cooking
3.0 and Hot Lingerie 7.7.

Good Luck!
Tech Support (Momma Dunn)

Advertisements

Pick-Up Lines That Fail

Standard

There once was an old man who owned a jewelry store in Whitefish, Montana.

One bright, sunny, summer day an unsuspecting young woman (*pointing to self* me… I’m talking about me) walked into his store, drawn to large stones that shined in the window.

As she pressed her nose against the glass cases to see the diamonds up close, he sauntered towards her.

“You from ’round here?” he asked dryly.

Startled, she looked up and politely shook her head, no.

“You attached?”

Again, she shook her head and began glancing over her shoulder to find the closest exit.

“Well,” he began, “stick with me kid and I’ll have you wearing diamonds bigger than horse-turds.”

And she blankly stared back at him, bile rising in the back of her throat, she excused herself from the store and decided that no diamond would ever be big enough to compensate for a general lack of tact.

Your turn! Let’s hear ’em. The worst pick-up lines.

Ready? Go!

10 Minutes in My Mind

Standard

I often make myself the butt of my own jokes; I have a very self-deprecating sense of humor.  But the fact of the matter is that I have A LOT of material to work with due, in large part, to my impressive lack of rational. My logic tends to be completely illogical. Practicality is a spiritual gift I simply don’t possess.

Today, for instance, is a pretty perfect example.

For some unknown reason, my hips have been hurting lately. Sitting. Standing. Walking. They ache.

So while driving to work this morning, I decided that it would be best to make a doctor’s appointment.  Then I started to prepare myself for receiving a diagnosis that I had bone cancer.  How would I break the news to my folks?  They’d be crushed. But they’d still have my brother and his lovely wife who is expecting.  So really, it’s like a wash.

About 5 seconds later, I sneezed and it was incredibly painful. 

Oh no! My stomach hurts when I sneeze!   As I put my hand on my stomach, I found it was sensitive and bulging slightly.  Oh my word! I think I have a tumor! Unfortunately, I didn’t recall, in that moment, that I had gone to hell an exercise class with my friend on Saturday that had culminated with ab workouts I haven’t done since high school. Nor did I recount the banana nut muffin I enjoyed last night while at bible study, which I confident now accounted for the bulge.

As I parked my car and began walking into my office, I thanked God for the privilege that it had been to work for Compassion, for even a short while.  Then I began to think about all the things I hadn’t done yet; the things I had placed on my “bucket list.”

Writing a book was the first thing that came to mind. By the time I got to my desk I had settled that I would write my book from my hospital bed.  Shortly after my passing, I would be awarded a Pulitzer, posthumously, and I would have the prize money donated to Compassion International.

This was my thought process leading up to 7:15 AM.  Scary, ain’t it?

 I emailed my mother about my mind’s adventures and her reply was simply: “Start saving for a therapist.”

Compliments of Momma Dunn: Part 1,003

Standard

In a forwarded email I got from Momma Dunn this evening, I found the following list of “Modern Proverbs.”

Which is your favorite?

1.  A day without sunshine is like night.
2. On the other hand, you have different fingers.

3. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.

4. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

5. Remember, half the people you know are below average.

6. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.

7. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

8. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.

9. Support bacteria. They’re the only culture most people have.

10. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

11. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.

12. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.

13. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand.

14. OK, so what’s the speed of dark?

15. When everything is coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.

16. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.

17. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?

18. Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.

19. What happens if you get scared half to death, twice?

20. Why do psychics have to ask you your name?

21. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering, ‘What the heck happened?’

22. Just remember — if the world didn’t suck, we would all fall off. 

23. Light travels faster than sound. That’s why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

24. Life isn’t like a box of chocolates. It’s more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow.

So… I May Be a Little Dramatic

Standard

My poor mother. She has put up with a lot of crazy from me in the last week in the form of very teary-eyed phone calls. Let’s start with the most ridiculous story first, shall we?

Last Friday, I wasn’t feeling well. For me to admit that I don’t feel well, takes a lot. I never get sick and will deny that I am sick for an illogical amount of time before I must concede defeat and take a pill or drink some nasty syrup. But last Friday, I gave in quickly. I left work early, came home and literally fell on the couch. I had a headache that made opening my eyes hurt. My body was beyond fatigued, but I hadn’t seen the gym in… it doesn’t matter how long I went without going to the gym, the point is that I was tired when I shouldn’t have been.  These two symptoms alone are extremely out of the ordinary for me. So I did what seemed most appropriate. I called my mommy.

“Mom,” I said as my voice cracked and my chin quivered. “I don’t feel good. My head hurts so bad. The light is making it worse too. I would close the blinds but I can’t get off the couch. I think something is very wrong. I’m scared… I think…” *sniff, sniff, sob, “I mean, could I be depressed? I have all the symptoms according to the commercial!”

*heavy sigh* “Mere… we have this conversation every August. You are not depressed.  The only thing that is wrong with you is that you have allergies. You always get allergies this time of year and they always make you feel this way.”

“Oh yeah! That’s right! Oh thank God. Thanks Momma.”

She undoubtedly thought I was psycho after that conversation.  But I decided to give her more evidence during last night’s conversation, just to really drive home how crazy I can be.

After having looked at townhouses the day before and consulting with my dad about something called an “amortization calculator,” it became abundantly clear that buying a home is probably not a feasible option for me right now. My dad put me on the phone with my mom. “So,” she started, “what’s the consensus?”

“Well, clearly I need to marry a doctor,” I said dryly. Then the floodgates opened and my little ‘ol tear ducts just couldn’t contain the flow. *gasp* “I mean, how in the world could anyone afford a home…ever?! Adulthood is so expensive! *sniff, sob, sob* “And I want to save, but I really need a new pair of brown pumps! I need to look nice for work and that’s expensive too!”  *sob, sniff, sniff*

“Mere,” she said in an incredible calm manner. “You could have them polished at a shoe store.

“They’re… *sob*… They’re… *sniff*… SUEDE!

“Ok hon. It’s late, maybe you should just go to bed,” she recommended.

To bed I went.  And when I called her the next morning, I apologized for being totally insane.

This One Time… in DC

Standard

Plenty of my friends will vouch for me when I say that, I was not in cool in college.  Evidence for this is provided in black and white on my resume.  There, you will discover that I was the Vice President of the International Business Council– an “elitist” organization within the Business department composed of … my four closest friends. We all elected ourselves to different roles and then mandated that entry into the “IBC” was by invite only. Neither cool, nor nice.

Because we were such a small group and our professor had amazing connections, we were able to take a two day field trip to Washington DC to personally meet the Jordanian ambassador at his embassy.

There is one important fact to keep in mind before I can proceed with the rest of this story: I, Meredith, am geographically challenged.  It’s really rather impressive. If you ask me to find any Middle Eastern or Asian country on a world map, chances are I wouldn’t. My brother once asked me to point out the Hawaiian islands to him. I never found them… cause I was looking in the Atlantic ocean. 

Moving on.

As my peers and I walked into the well guarded and gated embassy, we were welcomed with gifts, Jordanian flags, and ushered into a large conference room that was dimly lit and filled with customary foods and drinks.

The ambassador, whose name I can not recall, came in quietly and without pretension. Well dressed, handsome, and endlessly eloquent, he began to unpack for us the long history of Jordan, its people, it’s government, and it’s role in the world today.  He also elaborated for us his role as the ambassador, what that looks like on a daily basis, and what he hoped to accomplish in the near future. He was truly brilliant. And he was royalty.  Jordan is a monarchy, however their royals carry little influential weight in the creating or carrying out of policies. 

After he finished speaking and answering some of our questions, he swiftly exited to attend more important meetings.

My roommate at the time, Sarah, and I decided to wander over to the finger food table.  As we stood there nibbling on baklava (one of my all time favorite desserts) the ambassador’s daughter and niece came strolling up to us.

Now it should be stated that Sarah is Egyptian. As in… she looks like Cleopatra. She’s an incredible girl who loves the Lord, is crazy smart, extremely witty, and was one of the biggest blessings of my senior year of college.  Spiritually wise beyond her years, she was a counselor to me in so many ways.

“Excuse me,” said the ambassador’s daughter. Sarah and I stopped chewing and turned. “Excuse me, may I ask where you are from?” Her question was directed at Sarah.

“I’m Egyptian,” Sarah replied softly. Suddenly, the ambassador’s daughter and niece began talking to Sarah in Aramaic.  Now because Sarah is awesome, she knew Aramaic and was able to respond accordingly.

Thanks to my short attention span, while they spoke gibberish, my eyes wandered back to the baklava and I tried to strategize just how I could sneak some into my purse for the long walk back to our hotel. But my plotting was suddenly interrupted when the ambassador’s daughter and niece turned their attention to me and repeated their question, “So where are you from?”

“Uhh… Texas?” I replied.

“Really? That’s so interesting because we both thought you were Palestinian!”

Now remember, me and geography don’t mix. So instead of laughing and saying “Oh no, no, no. I’m not Palestinian,” I literally thought to myself “Crap… where is Palestine?”

My roommate, seeing my internal turmoil, gracefully stepped in and said “Oh no, she’s not. But I can see why you would think that. She does have darker features.”

Needless to say, I went home and did some serious Googling to determine where Palestine was and what their women looked like. 

 Turns out Palestine is not where I guessed it was and being thought Palestinian wasn’t a compliment.