Every week we seem to aim for the funny side of life. We sling hilarious jabs at each other and tackle the topic with humorous anecdotes. This week the challenge is to be funny.
Not just any funny but to be the funniest Horrorthonner of the day. You pick your topic, any topic at all. Recount stories from your life, your coworkers or your fellow bloggers.
Just channel that inner clown and give it your best. Do it in poetic form, tell a joke or write a story. Whatever way you choose, the challenge is to make it funny.
Here's an amputee clown for inspiration. Now go to it!
Every week we seem to aim for the funny side of life. We sling hilarious jabs at each other and tackle the topic with humorous anecdotes. This week the challenge is to be funny.
Not just any funny but to be the funniest Horrorthonner of the day. You pick your topic, any topic at all. Recount stories from your life, your coworkers or your fellow bloggers. 
Just channel that inner clown and give it your best. Do it in poetic form, tell a joke or write a story. Whatever way you choose, the challenge is to make it funny.
Here's an amputee clown for inspiration. Now go to it! 
17 comments:
not my own, but one of my favorite limericks:
nymphomaniacal alice
used a dynamite stick for a phallus
they found her vagina
in south carolina
and half of her asshole in dallas
I was in a rock band. Well, sort of. During my junior year of high school I was sitting in the cafeteria with my friends Steve Nardacci, Nick Malhotra, Bob Marcovicci, and Roger Nascimento. Coming off of the high of a recent KISS concert Steve said, “We should start a band!” Of course, this is the dream every guy has at some point in his life. We all became enthusiastic. Steve would play guitar, Bob would play bass, Roger would play keyboards, and I would play drums. I briefly played the drums in junior high, emphasis on “briefly”, as in once or twice. We all became excited at the prospect of being rock stars and for the rest of the lunch period we brainstormed names. It was finally decided, we would be “Phoenix”.
Over the next few days we designed different logos for Phoenix in an attempt to come up with a fresh look. Notebooks were filled with our lame attempts at coming up with something cool. I think we finally asked our friend Keith to draw us something and he did, Keith was good that way. We all discussed Phoenix a lot. I remember all of our quixotic notions about how our lives would change once Phoenix “made it” (perhaps I would finally get to touch a boob). The problem is, although there was a lot of chatter about Phoenix, there was no actual practice.
My drumming days dated back to the 6th or 7th grade. After a brief period of piano playing, my mother said something like, “Well you have to play something, pick an instrument!” I chose the drums, no doubt because of Peter Criss from KISS.
Fast forward to high school. “”Guess what?” It was Steve and he was beaming. “What?” we collectively asked. “I got us a gig!” Yep, it’s true, Steve lined up a concert performance for Phoenix (!) This was all well and good and theoretically what we wanted, but there was only one problem, we never actually practiced, not a single note. We were so caught up in the “dream” that we never put any actual work into practicing together. This didn’t seem to matter to the guys, who were all excited at the prospect. Steve, it turns out, got us a gig playing at our school’s pep rally. The days went by quickly and the pep rally was coming up. We still never practiced together. In fact, I didn’t even own a drum set. At some point reality hit me and I bowed out. I informed Steve, our unofficial leader, that I couldn’t do it. Steve was nonplussed, he knew another guy who could fill in. Phoenix performed for the first and last time. I was in the audience.
It was a disaster as you might imagine. Apparently the guys did get together a few times to practice playing a Led Zeppelin song. I’ve always hated Led Zeppelin so I couldn’t tell you the name but you would know it if you heard it. Now, our school pep rallies were always a lame affair. Moses Brown was not known for its athletics so there was always little enthusiasm from the students at these things. In fact, we didn’t even have cheerleaders.
Anyway, like most of our pep rallies the students attended half-heartedly. As we filed into the gymnasium Phoenix was setting up. The boys looked nervous. I was very pleased with my decision not to participate. The rest is kind of a blur (I think this is one of those memories that you try to block out). I remember our headmaster walking up to the microphone to introduce the band. I don’t remember what he said but it was probably something like, “Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for Phoenix!”
After some meager clapping (picture bacon popping on a skillet and you get the idea) Phoenix performed Led Zeppelin (da na na duh da na na, you know the song). It was a train wreck and it was difficult to watch. Poor Steve tried his hardest, he really did. The problem is that this wasn’t a band; it was just 4 guys who wanted to be rock stars without having to put the blood, sweat and tears required for such a lofty goal. The other problem is that they simply had no talent. Somehow they limped their way through the Zeppelin number, which resembled the sounds of a pack wounded hyenas. Again there was some bacon-popping clapping and that was it. Phoenix never performed again. I don’t recall the boys ever talking about Phoenix after that day. I was just happy that I missed out on yet another event where I would be viewed negatively (I had enough of that in my life).
Clowns split their grins, and sharpen knives, and terrorize the town.
Today I'm in another mode, cuz I'm a birthday clown
It's Julie's day today, you see, so up and down I hops
Please head to this birthday post, and give the girl some props!
(It really is!)
another favorite joke:
A fellow walks into his doctor's office, complaining that he thinks he might have a tapeworm. The doctor makes a physical examination and
listens to the symptoms, and concurs with the self-diagnosis.
"I want you to come back tomorrow, to start treatment. And bring a
banana and a cookie with you" said the doctor.
Despite the odd request, the patient complies, and returns the
next day with a banana and a cookie. The doctor says "Okay, now drop your pants and bend over. This is going to hurt a bit."
Although leery, the patient drops his pants and bends over. The doctor peels the banana and with one deft motion rams it up the guy's ass. While the doctor consults his watch, the patient dances around the room shouting at the doctor.
"Okay, one minute is up, and we have to complete the second part of the treatment if your truly want to get rid of this tapeworm" advises doc. Despite the pain, the patient does want to be cured, so complies with the order to bend over again. Again, the doctor takes the cookie and rams it up the patients ass.
"Okay, tomorrow I want to see you here at the same time, and bring
another banana and a cookie" says the doctor. The now humbled patient, with tears of pain in his eyes, nods his head.
Next day, the same routine ensues. First the doctor rams up a banana,
waits exactly one minute, then rams up a cookie.
And the next day, and the next day and the next!! Every day UP goes a
banana, wait one minute, then UP goes a cookie.
After one full week of treatments, the doctor finally says "Well,
tomorrow is the LAST day of treatments. I want you to bring in a banana and a hammer."
"Not a cookie?" asks the very frightened patient, trying to imagine what a hammer was going to feel like. "Nope, a hammer" confirmed the doctor.
The last day the doctor says "Okay, you know the routine". So the man drops his pants and bends over. UP goes the banana, and the doctor looks at his watch and picks up the hammer. One minute passes. Then two minutes. Three. Four minutes pass. Then a little head pokes out the patient's ass and says: "where's my goddamn cookie?"
WHAM!!!
Thanks for the bath, Mom
Have some farts for your troubles
I'm a jacuzzi
a knock on a door, just a snail
the occupant flung it away
three years later, a knock on that door
"what the hell was that for?"
asked the snail
Singing karoake
I picked a Rufus & Chaka Khan song
"Tell Me Something Good..."
I rocked that song like no tomorrow
The whole place erupts with applause
I'm riding the high feeling fine
as I step off the stage my foot twists
I stumble but cannot recover
Splat! Sprawled out flat on the barroom floor.
As I lay there looking up at the ceiling, laughing at my own misfortune
The DJ jumps on top of me and begins dry humping.
He figures he's making light of the incident but oh he made it so much worse
The entire place is now laughing themselves sick
Total humiliation but man did I rock that song.
I haven't sung it since.
An ode to my magical butt cheeks
I use them quite often to cut squeaks
I let out a boom
Then exit the room
And give my poor victims a rough week
i know i can't win for posting someone else's jokes, but i can't help myself.
The guy who shot Robert Kennedy, Sirhan Sirhan, goes up for parole every year. Once he even told the parole board that if Kennedy was alive today, he would speak in his favor and say let him go. What a tough break, you know? The one guy who would have supported him, and he shot him. (Paula Poundstone)
When I was on acid, I would see things like beams of light. And I would hear things that sounded an awful lot like car horns. (Mitch Hedberg)
Whenever I walk, people try to hand me out flyers. And when someone tries to hand me out a flyer, it’s kinda like they’re saying, "Here—you throw this away." (Mitch Hedberg)
“If you don't think drugs have done good things for us, then take all of your records, tapes and CDs and burn them. Cause you know what? The musicians that made all that great music that's enhanced your lives throughout the years? Real fucking high on drugs. The Beatles were so fuckin' high they let Ringo sing a few songs." (Bill Hicks)
I saw one of those giant Hummer cars with handicapped tags on it. I thought, 'Wow, I never realized that being an a**hole was technically a handicap.' (Greg Giraldo)
Me talking about the church: "there's a back door over there that you can go in too"
Tony: "I thought christians don't go in the back door?"
Me talking about people at a Warren church function: "When I come here I feel like I'm in a different era."
My step son David: "Yeah, B.C."
(it runs in the family)
Horse walks into bar
Bartender says, "Oh! A horse!"
Horse whinnies, confused
Tension, stress rising
Do I need a cigarette?
Nope. About to floss.
Escalator broke
Sorry for the convenience
It has become stairs
(more tribute to Mitch)
Priest, rabbi, bishop
Triumverate of humor
Just can't stop drinking
Run, run, run across the lawn
Waiting for this since the break of dawn
Jump right over Tom
Drop fart like a bomb
Sweatpants' plan all along
Re-reentered to correct spelling mistake
Girlfriend's on top, I'm on bottom
She's ecstatically riding my totem
Reach my hand back to smack
(Because baby's got back)
And I nail myself right in the scrotum
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