The Monday Morning Mirth

Tag: truck

  • The Head

    A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The son is just "a head"! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion.

    After 18 years, the son is now old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the bar, tearfully tells the son he is proud of him and orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol.

    Swoooosh! Plop!! A torso pops out! The bar is dead silent; then bursts into whoops of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink !"

    The bartender continues to shake his head in dismay. Swoooosh! Plip! Plop!! Two arms pop out.

    The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant, "Take another drink! Take another drink!!" The bartender ignores the whole affair and goes back to polishing glasses, shaking his head, clearly unimpressed by the amazing scenes.

    By now the boy is getting tipsy, but with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it. Plop! Plip!! Two legs pop out. The bar is in chaos.

    The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left then staggers to the right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly, the bar falls silent.

    The father moans in grief. The bartender sighs and says, "He should have quit while he was a head!"

  • The Fire Truck

    A fire fighter is working on the engine outside the station when he notices a little girl next door in a little red wagon with little ladders hung off the sides and a garden hose tightly coiled in the middle.

    The girl is wearing a fire fighter’s helmet. The wagon is being pulled by her dog and her cat. The fire fighter walked over to take a closer look.

    That sure is a nice fire truck," the fire fighter says with admiration.

    "Thanks" the girl says. The firefighter looks a little closer and notices the girl has tied the wagon to her dog’s collar and to the cat’s testicles.

    "Little Partner", the fire fighter says, "I don’t want to tell you how to run your rig, but if you were to tie that rope around the cat’s collar too, I think you could go faster."

    The little girl replies thoughtfully, " You’re probably right, but then I wouldn’t have a siren."

  • At the Lumberyard

    Two men in a pickup truck drove into a lumberyard. One of the men walked in the office and said, "We need some four-by-twos.

    "The clerk said, "You mean two-by-fours, don’t you?"

    The man said, "I’ll go check," and went back to the truck. He returned in a minute and said, "Yeah, I meant two-by-fours."

    "Alright. How long do you need them?"

    The customer paused for a minute and said, "I’d better go check".

    After a while, the customer returned to the office and said, "A long time. We’re gonna build a house."

  • English is a Crazy Language

    Let’s face it — English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.

    We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

    And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?

    Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb through annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

    If teachers taught, why didn’t preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?

    Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?

    How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another.

    Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?

    You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.

    English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.

  • Observations on a Female Driver

    I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a female driver cut right in front of a pickup truck causing him to have to drive on to the shoulder to avoid hitting her.
    This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung his arm out his window and abused the woman.
    "Man, that guy is stupid!" I thought to myself.
    I ALWAYS smile nicely and wave in a sheepish manner whenever a female does anything to me in traffic and here’s why:
    I drive 48 miles each way every day to work, that’s 96 miles each day.
    Of these, 16 miles each way is bumper-to-bumper.
    Most of the bumper-to-bumper is on an 8 lane highway so if you just look at the 7 lanes I am not in, that means I pass something like a new car every 40 feet per lane.
    That’s 7 cars every 40 feet for 32 miles. That works out to be 982 cars every mile, or 31,424 cars.
    Even though the rest of the 32 miles is not bumper to bumper, I figure I pass at least another 4000 cars.
    That brings the number to something like 36,000 cars I pass every day.
    Statistically, half of these are driven by females, that’s 18,000.
    In any given group of females 1 in 28 are having the worst day of their period. That’s 642.
    According to Cosmopolitan, 70% describe their love life as dissatisfying or unrewarding. That’s 449.
    According to the National Institute of Health, 22% of all females have seriously considered suicide or homicide. That’s 98.
    And 34% describe men as their biggest problem. That’s 33.
    According to the National Rifle Association 5% of all females carry weapons and this number is increasing.
    That means that EVERY SINGLE DAY, I drive past at least one female that has a lousy love life, thinks men are her biggest problem, has seriously considered suicide or homicide, is having the worst day of her period, and is armed.
    Piss one off?
    …I think not.

  • …and the Moral of the Story is…

    One day at the end of class little Gunner’s teacher had the class go home and think of a story and then conclude with the moral of that story. The following day the teacher asked for the first volunteer to tell a story; little Suzy raised her hand. 

    "My dad owns a farm and every Sunday we load the chicken eggs on the truck and drive into town to sell them at the market. Well, one Sunday we hit a big bump and all the eggs flew out of the basket and onto the road." The teacher asked for the moral of the story. Suzy replied, "Don’t keep all your eggs in one basket." 

    Next was little Lucy. "Well my dad owns a farm, too, and every weekend we take the chicken eggs and put them in the incubator. Last weekend only 8 of the 12 eggs hatched." The teacher asked for the moral of the story. Lucy replied, "Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched." 

    Last was little Gunner. "My uncle Steve was a Marine; the helicopter he was in was shot down over enemy territory. As the only survivor, all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. First he drank the whiskey so the enemy couldn’t enjoy it. Unfortunately, he was quickly surrounded by a 100 soldiers. He shot 70 with his machine gun, but ran out of bullets, so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more. The blade on his machete broke, so he killed the last ten with his bare hands." Teacher looked in shock at Gunner and asked if there was any possible moral to his story. "Yes sir", Gunner replied, "Don’t screw with Uncle Steve when he’s been drinking."

  • The Nuns and the Flat

    A group on nuns were travelling in a car when it got a flat tire. They got out and tried to change it, but being rather unworldly did not know how to do it.
    Luckily, a truck came along and the male driver offered to change it for them. They gladly accepted. As the trucker jacked up the car, it slipped from the jack. "Son-of-a-bitch," he yelled.
    The eldest nun said to him, "That is not nice language. We understand that you are upset, but you mustn’t use such language."
    "Sorry, Sister", he said, and tried again. Again it slipped, this time almost mashing his fingers. "Son-of-a-bitch", he yelled again.
    "Please, don’t use such language. If changing our tire is causing you to do so, it would be better if you didn’t help us."
    "But I get so upset, and it just comes out."
    "Well," said the nun, "say something else when you get upset, something like ‘Sweet Jesus, help me’".
    So the trucker tried to jack up the car again. Again it slipped.
    He started to say "So..", but he corrected himself and said, "Sweet Jesus help me." At that, the car just lifted up into the air by itself.
    The nuns looked at the car and said, "Son-of-a-bitch!"

  • The Pig

    A young bloke has started work on a property, and the boss sends him up the back paddocks to do some fencing work, but come evening he’s half an hour late. The boss gets on the CB radio to check if he’s all right.

    "I’ve got a problem, Boss. I’m stuck ‘ere. I’ve hit a pig!"

    "Ah well, these things happen sometimes," the boss says.

    "Just drag the carcass off the road so nobody else hits it in the dark."

    "But he’s not dead, boss. He’s gotten tangled up on the bull bar, and I’ve tried to untangle him, but he’s kicking and squealing, and he’s real big boss. I’m afraid he’s gonna hurt me!"

    "Never mind," says the boss. "There’s a .303 under the tarp in the back. Get that out and shoot him. Then drag the carcass off the road and come on home."

    "Okay, boss."

    Another half an hour goes by, but there’s still not a peep from the young fella. The boss gets back on the CB. "What’s the problem, son?"

    "Well, I did what you said boss, but I’m still stuck."

    "What’s up? Did you drag the pig off the road like I said?"

    "Yeah boss, but his motorcycle is still jammed under the truck."