A couple nights ago I took a Tupperware-style bowl of clam chowder to work with me, and popped it into the microwave on my lunch break. And after the buzzer went off (two minutes, thirty seconds later) I opened the door, and the bowl was on its side in a sea of uncontained soup.
How is such a thing possible? What are the logistics? I’d removed the lid, and laid a paper towel across the top to cut down on splatter (ha!). And the shit went sideways on me. I had successfully completed the same mission many times before, but this time experienced a pronounced failure.
So, instead of enjoying a piping-hot bowl of chowder, I got to spend a big hunk of my lunch break cleaning a communal microwave. Good fun.
But seriously, how do you think it happened? What’s the science on something like that? Large, violent bubbles exploding inside a cold, thick paste? Would that upend a three-pound bunker-buster of Progresso? Help me out, won’t you?
Because I can’t have that.
Doesn’t daylight saving time end (start?) this weekend? What exactly is the point? It seems like it has something to do with farmers, or livestock, or grain, or whatever. I don’t know, and don’t care enough to find out.
Oh, it’s not as big an irritant as, you know, people saying “myun” instead of “mine,” but I’ve never much cared for daylight saving time. It seems rather cavalier to go monkeying around with the clock, all willy nilly, don’t you think? It’s fairly arrogant, when you stop to think about it.
Plus, it’s confusing. Fall forward, spring back? Spring up, fall in? Spring first, fall later? Spring backward, don’t get any on ya? Yeah, that catchy little phrase doesn’t help me at all.
Any opinions on this most curious of rituals?
And have you ever improvised a bit of comedy that went over like a cauliflower fart at Easter mass? I’m not talking about a joke that nobody laughed at, but one that actually pissed people off and changed the entire atmosphere of a room.
Of course I wouldn’t have brought this up, if I wasn’t leading up to something…
When I was in Atlanta, you see, Eric Clapton released the song “Tears In Heaven,” supposedly written after his son fell out of a window (or something) and died. It was a huge hit, and everyone knew the sad back story.
Well, I shared an office with two other guys, and one day there were several other folks in there as well. Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly” came on the radio. And without hesitating, I said, “Hey, isn’t that the song about Eric Clapton’s kid?!” Learning to fly.
Immediately I realized I’d miscalculated, and saw that I was without allies. Most of them stared at their shoes, one guy looked at me like he simply couldn’t believe it, and another was openly hostile. “That’s a hell of a thing to make a joke about,” he blurted, as everyone slid away shaking their heads in disgust.
Turns out the guy who was angry, a semi-bigshot, was a HUGE Clapton fan, and had named his first son Eric.
Sheesh. People really need to get the Big Stick of Righteousness out of their asses. If you can’t joke about tragic infant death, what can you joke about? It’s political correctness gone mad!
And I hate to admit this, but I was just conned at Wendy’s. I consider myself to be a professional, needless to say, but the cashier got one over on me.
After ordering my usual #1 with cheese, no pickles, and a Coke, she said, “Medium or large?”
This threw me, because they usually ask the more general question, “What size?” And I always say small, because a small at Wendy’s is still pretty large. But since she didn’t offer small as an option, I froze-up and went with medium.
And this caused the price to shoot up by a buck, thus breaking the five dollar rule. And I was given an order of fries so large I needed one of those warehouse-worker lifting belts. The Coke was also a two-hander, and cast me in deep shadow throughout the meal. It was far too much of a good thing.
Never again! I will not be manipulated into super-sizing, by any more black magic fast food cashier parlor tricks. And you can make a note of it.
I hope you’re all pretending to have a Kraft caramel sealed to the roof of your mouth today. I know I am.
And yesterday’s comments, about bad hotel rooms, were flat-out hilarious. A fantastic collection of stories… I read most of them last night, after I got home from work, and was wiping away tears of laughter. Extra-good stuff. Thanks, as always.
I’m struggling today, and feel like climbing back atop the platform. So I’m going to stop right here.
Have a great weekend, boys and girls. I still owe the Surf Report VIPs a super-secret update, and I’ll try to get it done in the coming days. Maybe Sunday? No promises, but that’ll be the goal.
See ya later. The couch and happy hour at the Piss Biscuit Bar & Grill are calling my name…
jim britton says
Happy Halloween to you, Jim!
I’m wondering how they get those razor blades into apples without it being evident. Any pointers?
tony tony tony says
You should call it the Pisscuit bar and grill.
My life is full of me making an inappropriate joke and clearing the room, getting kicked out of a bar, making a bartender pee her pants.
I had a stripper in Oklahoma City laugh her ass off when I talked about shoving a hard boiled egg up my ass.
At the same time my jokes about Jesus went unheeded (Did you see the Passions of the Christ? Did you hear Mel’s alternate title for it? Mad Max Beyond Jeruselum.)
Maybe I’m only funny to me.
jason ,after they caught that guy taking a bath in a prep sink at burger king that might not be “mashed potatoes”
I remember working with a guy who a huge redne- uh, NASCAR fan- who got really pissed when I mentioned that Pink Floyd was rerecording their one big hit in honor of Dale Earnhardt and calling it “Another Hick in the Wall.” That, and the long, drawn out sight gag joke I told about a dead cat (the punch line is “no he looked like this”) to a weather man right before we came back from commercial. Both instances, it made me laugh even harder because the people were offended.
My entire life from age 11 to 16 was spent spouting off what I thought was humor. I’m obviously a verrrry slow learner.
In the gross jokes category: What’s the difference between a truckload of bowling balls and a truckload of dead babies?
You can’t unload the bowling balls with a pitch fork. Right?
i think i’m in love with jason.
J Shifty says
From a young, impressionable age I spent alot of time on construction sites with dad as an alternative to modern child care. So my sense of humor was developed over a decade by marinating around some of the most depraved, sex-obsessed minds our country has to offer.
This led to some awkward moments after I shipped up to one of those “elite liberal northeast institutions of higher learning”.
One that really stands out in my memory was dropping the following into some high-minded political discussion: “Hey, what did Jesse Jackson say when a reporter asked him about the Abortion Bill? I thought I paid it!”
Yeah, that one didn’t go over as well as it had with the guys around the roach coach.
The good news is, it sounds like there’ll be enough of us to get our own surf reporter comedy bunker together in Hell!
Do you like carnival food? Can I call you “sugartits”?
Here’s a short story that I like to call “Area 51”.
“I’d like to drive her out to Area 51 and fuck her brains out.” Said Gary.
“Good luck with that. I hear she’s so frigid that every time she spreads her legs the heater kicks in. And I think someone beat you to the fucking her brains out bit. You ever talk to her? That slur. Jesus Christ. And she smells like piss.” Said Andy.
“Fuck you Andy, you shitcock, I love her. What would you smell like if you got electroshock therapy twice a day for 7 months?”
“I don’t know dude. Seems like you’re always picking the wrong ones. Put her mouthpiece in.”
masher’s story of the mosquitos (10-30) made me remember a story I had buried deep. There is a lodge at the Flamingo State Park in the Everglades (Florida). I remember sitting on a lounger in the screened pool area and as my lumpy bits were geting bitten on top of bites I noticed that the screen was actually keeping the mosquitos IN. That was a night I spent fully clothed under the blankets trying to protect my 4 YO son–that’s right, every time we opened the door to enter-exit the room a cloud of biting excellence followed us in-out. It was hell. We checked out the next morning– cancelling our week stay and headed down to Islamorada.
eeew Jason–please don’t move next door to me… at least change the sheets when you leave.
I often make comments that fall flat (see surf report comments for the past year).
I can not tell a joke to save my life. My DH and son look at me when I make smart ass comments– with my deadpan delivery and I have to tell them it’s OK to laugh– ’cause I was trying to be funny.
Dear Lord– why am I a day behind on the surf report this week? Must get back up to top twenty next week…
Carla– I am a kindle owner– and yes, you can visit with a kindle before you buy. Amazon has a section where you can ask local owners to ” show u theirs”. If you’re Central East Coast FL, I’d be happy to “show u mine”. I don’t think anyone will let you borrow– it would suck to be kindleless– and of course you would see my content. Some universities are buying for their students…Try Yahoo users group on for size…
And now for comments about Clam chowda in the nuker… Jeff, my best guess is that the clam bits exploded with such force that the bowl rolled. Or there could have been a bit of shell in there. Do you think that the shells have any metal in them? They should be made from whatever the clam is eating– and given the state of our waters….Anyway, don’t the clam pieces get all rubbery? I was listening on NPR (God knows why) to a chef talk about making clam chowder last week and the key to excellent chowder is to gently heat the clams, but not cook them. I think the microwave cooked them good. Probably better that you got to clean the microwave instead of eating rubbery clams…
Jason, step in here and say something nasty.
oh jason. you’re so romantic…
here’s my off-putting joke, in an effort to get me into hell with the rest of you:
Q: How can you tell if your wife is dead?
A: The sex is the same, but the dishes are piling up.
I hope I’ve offended.
One night a policewoman pulls over a drunk driver.
She politely asks him to step out of his car. He willingly does so. She says, “Anything you say can and will be Held against you.”
He replies “YOUR TITS!”
I nearly pissed my pants with some of the jokes posted here today/yesterday. I dont have an example of ill-timed jokes that have come out of my mouth. Just hang out with me for a day or two. I am sure a ringer will come out.
oh and about your spilt soup. you said you had it in a plastic tupperware bowl. Do you think that the nuker heated up one side of the bowl and it created a bubble and knocked over the soup? and then the bowl went magically back to its orginal shape? Or perhaps some asshole tipped it when you wont looking.
Couple years ago I shut down a Christmas dinner with this one:
How can you tell when it’s bedtime at Michael Jackson’s house?
It’s when the big hand touches the little hand…..
Oh, friends, I’m the king–the absolute monarch–of the non-filtering brain. I’ve made comments in front of people that make me blush even now. Case in point: Not long ago, my girlfriend told me to feel how soft her daughter’s arm is. I did and said (joking), “Oooh, your skin’s soft like a dead baby.” Well, at the time she was several months pregnant. Not too cool. But luckily, she knows of my retardation.
On another occasion some years ago, a buddy of mine’s girlfriend was being a real bitch, taking something he said out of context and implying that he was being racist (which he wasn’t). So I, mocking her blonde-haired, blue-eyed self, said, “Stop it! My dad’s black!” Didn’t go over too great, cause she just turned to me, deadpan, and said, “My dad’s dead.” Ta-da! Thank you and good night!
Well, maybe not good night, cause I have one from a buddy of mine: What’s the difference between Sarah Palin’s mouth and her pussy? Only half of what comes out of her pussy is retarded. Wow. Even for me, that’s a little harsh. Harsh and beautiful.
Damn you, uncle_wedgie! You trumped my Palin joke, and I had missed your post among the throngs. Of course, it does go to prove my aforementioned idiocy and inappropriate timing, so I guess it’s cool.
You know what this country needs is another national tragedy. Those produce the best jokes.
Case in point:
1. The Challenger explosion:
Q: Did you know that Christa McAuliffe was blue eyed?
A: One blew left and one blew right.
2. Virginia Tech Shooting:
Q: What do Antarctica and Virginia Tech have in common?
A: Both -32 today.
3. September 11:
refer to jason’s joke above that made me love him.
Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find any jokes about Pearl Harbor. I guess we don’t joke about that…?
And there aren’t any decent jokes about JFK either. Well, I do remember one in which JFK and JFK Jr. meet in heaven and JFK says, “You needed that plane crash like I needed a hole in the head.”
Wish I were in Florida but I am in Oklahoma. (Not a joke.) I think I have convinced myself to bite the bullet and get the kindle anyway. Thanks for the offer though.
Oh the readign possibilities!!
I meant reading,
Nape In ot diqlexic.
Uncle Buzz in Wheeling says
OK, Jeff, since you asked…
The quote for today:
“Daylight Saving Time was proposed in 1907 by British architect William Willett, who had an “epiphany” on one of his daily horseback rides through London at dawn, was first adopted in wartime Germany in 1916 to keep energy costs low. While many nations (including the U.S.) followed Germany’s example through WWI, only Britain maintained the policy following the war. In America the practice was denigrated as a reminder of wartime hardship and as symptomatic of big government. It was New York City (not the nation’s farmers, as many incorrectly believe) that rallied for its reinstatement. Pressured by bankers and brokers who wanted to capitalize on the hour of arbitrage daylight saving allowed with the London markets, the New York City Board of Aldermen lobbied it into law in 1920. The practice spread mostly haphazardly through the country, despite occasional efforts to enforce uniformity. Daylight Saving Time was permanently adopted by Congress in 1966.” Publishers Weekly
Have a great weekend, surf reporters, and, as we say here in West By God Virginia – vote early, vote often.
Alice in WV says
I cannot recall clearing out a room with a joke or remark, but I am really bad (good?) at laughing at inappropriate times. funerals, work meetings, interviews, etc.
this just occurred to me – Once, during an interview, I was asked What is your biggest weakness? or some such bullshiz, and I replied “I have no patience for stupid people.” One guy laughed his ass off and wanted to hire me, but his supervisor was not amused and scribbled my response and a little note on my HR form. I eventually got hired but the humorless bitch and I never quite saw things eye to eye.
Brenda Love says
“Eric Clapton released the song “Tears In Heaven,” supposedly written after his son fell out of a window (or something) and died. It was a huge hit,”
Actually, I was finding the unintentional humor before you ever got done explaining….
Bill in PA says
Just checkin’ in on the depravity.
Can’t say I’m disappointed.
Brandy and Jason, let me know
where you’re registered and
I’ll send you a nice gift card.
So right about national tragedies being great fodder for jokes:
“Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?”
So I was relatively new in my office the week Lloyd Bridges died back in ’98, so people around the office hadn’t learned my sense of humor just yet. I’m in the mailroom and I ran into the office admin, who I had chatted with a time or two and she seemed to have a discernable sense of humor, but evidently not in response to this:
“Hey, didja hear that Lloyd Bridges died this week?” I said.
“Yeah, I heard that”, she replied.
So I delivered, right on cue, “Yeah, looks like he picked the wrong week to quit breathing!”
Now I KNOW that WVSR readers are loving that joke…right? RIGHT????
Love it, Dave!
Dave that works for everyone! It is now in the arsenal. Thanks!
chip kirkpatrick says
Hey I love Daylight Savings Time! In fact my wife and I always take a week of vacation as DST ends (Absolute truth! We’re on vacation as I type this!) because this way we get an EXTRA HOUR OF VACATION! Its our small way of sticking it to The Man!
chip kirkpatrick says
This weekend JC Penneys is having a Michael Jackson sale.
Little boy’s underware are half off….
They’re 100% off if you bring in a bottle of Jesus Juice.
Sorry to hear about the tragic end to a wonderful lunch that never met its potential, much like……..well I shouldn’t go there but Tom Petty’s free falling comes to mind. The answer to how could something like that happen is simple, In every office in every city there lurks an “unofficial” employee that is small in stature but brilliant at staying out of sight. This co-worker of ours sole job function is to destroy anything that may bring you pleasure, happiness, or hope during the work day thus preventing you from possibly insita gating a rebellion of laughter and joy amongst the ranks, I believe he is the first cousin of that jerk Murphy who made some laws. Anyhoo you should be thankful, 2 and a half minutes is plenty of time for this ass to ruin your day, at least he didnt slash your tires as well!!
I’m not sure Tupperware was made for the microwave. You need to invest in some Gladware or Ziploc plasticware – cheaper and microwaveable safe.
You can come and work at my place of employment, Jeff, you’d be a marked improvement over all the assholes who never clean the microwave after they mess it up.
Bill, we’re registered at Reggie’s Liquor and Porn Emporium.