...of all things funny.
I claim I have a humour blog and even go as far as advertising it as such but every one knows i can't tell a joke to a 2 year old. I'm the kind that tells a joke and the garbage takes itself out. Yes. It walks away, preferring to be out there in the cold street, than listen to my flimsy attempt at making others laugh. And laugh they do. Laugh at what the joke might have been, at the purpose the joke-god had invented it to serve.
They never laugh at me. Because they know that I don't wear this t-shirt for lack of a fashion sense or lack of something else to wear.
Some people over at BC think I'm funny, which doesn't say much for their sense of humour. Either that or they accidentally saw this on my door.
Rob might have caught on this and sought to expose me. However being the chicken that he is (not) , he disguised it as a blog post with a collection of jokes from BC-ers. He even had the nerve to post it here. Guess which is one is my contribution, come back here and let me know if you laughed. I'll tell you what i think about you (and your sense of humour)
My name is Ms.Lillian Umah,I am a little girl,I have an inheritance from my Sick Mother to invest in your country,pls i want u to stand as father of business in claiming the money,the amount is $6.400,000 Million US Dollars.your reply will give you the full details.Thanks.
- Lillian Umah
Little huh? Too bad, because i know someone who likes doing business with little boys. Take care though, he's known to get away with his business partners automobiles.
Assuming you were totally bored and replied. What are some of the responses you would give?
After watching CNN and the story on Down Under scientists and working my knickers in a twist (hard to do if you don't wear them to begin with), I spend hours digging dirt on OZ as my journalism lecturer taught me. Ok, i was not present for the lecture but my pal >>
who attended all lectures, who was also the most intelligent in our class gave me her notes and i read them religiously.
Her notes were really popular. The last kid who went through her school notes is pissed off at all of us because we dared correct him.
I did tel him though that i know my departed (and i use departed here in the whole sense of the world) goldfish, Brian that was way more intelligent that himAs you guessed, that did not go down well. I did, however leave him brochures to this school
Anyway, point was, i had the best schooling drugs can buy hence the reason I'm convinced I did very good job researching that post.
So you can only imagine my anger at going back to the Wikipedia link i had cited as my source and finding it edited! Yes, someone has removed the phrase 'one of the worst places to visit' , under the topic - Geography and nomenclature. The original phrase read :
"The Australian continent is the smallest and lowest-lying human-inhabited continent on Earth, and one of the worst places to visit with total land area of some 7,713,000 square kilometres."
I bet an Aussie did that. I suspect it's Sean. seeing as that happened shortly after his visit.
I still maintain that Australian Scientists suck... and here are five reasons why.
A while back, i posted somethign about Australian scientists (no, it was about all Australians really). Being the not so creative person i can be on perfectly sunny days that i should, for the love of mankind, be creative, I asked Nate for help.
Nate, one of my favourite humourists does awesome '10-reasons why' posts. They include; 10 different ways to say go f*$k yourself, 10 reasons why Nate's plane was canceled, 10 questions to ask your financial adviser - no, not your wife!. My personal favourite, 10 reasons why Dick Cheney is the perfect Personal Assistant.
So, here goes -
what makes me tick. How cool that it had to come, not from within me, but from Outside My brain.
Off you to discover. and thank him while you are at it, for giving you this precious opportunity to get an inch closer to knowing me.
Why are you still reading this? GO!
This is where you should be going.
Labels: Myers-Briggs typology test
...gets a heart attack.
Little pieces of information that always makes me question why i didn't know about sooner. Not that i have ED, i mean, i don't have to rise, but it would have helped all those men i've been with who had to be rushed to the ER now and then. I've been bragging that it's my bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, against a tree, or back of a taxi) skills that sends them to hospital. I was even thinking of making a warning sign to men who come to my house. It took a while to get my landlord to agree to me installing this one on my door -- seeing as I'm a good citizen and considerate neighbour, what with mine being the most desired area in the city. Unlike my next door neighbour Kevin(a), who takes all her activities to the streets down below, i like to give ample warning.
I emphasize on her as she reads my blog and would want to keep our nonexistent friendship going. The last time we got onto a fight on about her waste disposal habits, i found this nice note stuck on my door.
Now, threatening to take away my womanhood is bad enough threat, but given that i come from Africa where that might be viewed as a good thing - makes me more docile, they say (bastards!!) - but making me white? That is one serious threat. Which is why I'm not messing with her.
Where was I? Oh yeah - installing signs. After sending about 5 men to the ER, it's only fair that i re-consider my bedroom tactics. I'm taking a hint from my Irish friends
and working on this:
It's still on the concept stage, do not fuss about the design and balance in elements. Why Hollywood, you ask? because they are having too much over there and every one pretends that they don't know the cause of the California fires. Don't believe me? Nicole Kidman can prove it --
Also, If I'm to do one with an African theme, my good intentions will be misconstrued to mean this
and no, I'm not talking about foreign aids.
Looks like i wont have to work on that sign anymore. Because i have been told that it's not my performance that has them looking for this guy --
It has come to my attention that men with failure to launch problems, who do not rise to the occasion, meaning that they bow when they should be saluting have a higher chances of getting a heart attack.
Does that mean that all those unused little workers in the sacs grow old, die and become cholesterol which is stored around the heart?hmm.
I did my duty and bought this plant for one of my 'failures' for his hospital room. It was the least i could do. If i never noticed that he was not 'up' to it, i surely must take part of the blame. I figured that if he kept it watered, seeing it rise and bloom might give him hope.
Which made me think. Does lack of sex cause heart attack too?
A man is being chased by a lion in the jungle.
As he gets tired and feels he can't run anymore he stands still and prays.
'GOD WOULD YOU PLEASE MAKE THIS
LION A CHRISTIAN!'
As requested, God makes the lion a Christian. As it reaches him, the lion kneels down and prays;
'THANK YOU LORD FOR PROVIDING THIS
MEAL. BLESS AS I EAT. AMEN'
Moral of the story ? Be Specific.
For instance, when you ask God to make you a millionaire do not forget to specify the currency because you may become a millionaire in Zimbabwe dollars (1 US Dollar = 371,283,808.37 Zimbabwe Dollars)
And you don't want to be carrying your money like this
The following instructions are designed to help you perfect your skills at flipping that finger out and saving yourself from considerable embarrassment that arises from lack of the proper fingering technique. Remember, it's not the size of the weapon that matters, it's what you do with it.
1. Extend either arm at an approximately 90° angle perpendicular to the body.
2. Bend arm at the elbow. Position it parallel to the body, forming three sides of a perfect square.
3. Close palm tightly
4. Fiercely upturn digit between pointer and ring finger.
5. Hold approximately 10 seconds to a minute for emphasis.
If the above steps are followed correctly, you should be
able to do something like this:
6. Finally, if the desired effect is achieved, you can
Or you could stick around for some of this:
Disclaimer : Writer not responsible for anything that happens to you once you choose to follow the instructions as given above. However, failure to try it at least once will result you in being branded a c-ocksucker, sissy or any other demeaning word this writer can come up with. Writer may or may not have been in her right mind during the writing of this blog post, which makes no difference really.)
Not all the above instructions are the writers original material. No, she is not that creative. Some images stolen from here
Seriously, not even giving your real email address or instant messenger ID gets you more perverts that having dreadlocks.
I've had my dreadlocks for almost 2 years now, and i have to say, despite them being a life saver when it comes to salon time and money, and going a great way in helping me get ready about half an hour faster than my female counterparts, it has somewhat been the bane of my existence.
I get in to a bus and this guy slides on the seat next to mine. I can see by the look in his eyes that he is going to talk to me, and secretly thank heavens for my Ipod. No, that does not deter him. He pokes me. Not the Facebook kind of poke. The annoying one-finger-digging-into-your-arm kind of poke. I removed my earphones and gave him my best this-better-important-or-I'll throw-you-off-this-bus-look
Are those real?, he asked, pointing to my locks. Yes, i said and put my back my earphones. Seconds later, another poke. Yes? He asked - How long have you had them?.
Two years. Do you mind? I said indicating to my earphones.
Just wanted to tell you that they are really good. I like them. Calmly, i replied -Thank you. With a sigh of relief that my dreadlocks were not about to be the next big Kenyan attraction, went back to my music.
Five seconds later...
WHAT? I almost screamt..
Wanted to ask your name. He said.
I'm not going to tell you my name, not now, not ever, not even if you and came back as two piles of cowdung in our next life! I told him. Now, please, leave me alone!
Another one scenario:
In a grocery store, I'm the secondin line. Three guys stand in front of me. They are waiting for change from the cashier.They start talking about my locks, loud enough for me to hear. One pokes me (I'll get poke-holes on my body at this rate)
I turn look up - with a not so welcoming look. I know i have a stare that even my viking is scared of.
What? I ask
Not so harsh rasta lady. just wanted to tell you that your locks are hot. Then goes ahead to take one and wrap it around his fingers.
Excuse me? I snap. You shameless jerk!
He apologizes...with a snigger. I turn to the grocery store lady, whose been watching.
I ask for my bread (which is what i wanted) Hair shampoo and conditioner. Charge the shampoo to this nice youngman, i tell her.
Gladly, she responds. And I walk out. The jerks are complaining. But she still has their change and it's enough to pay for both my shampoo and conditioner.
Yesterday i went for dinner at my friend D. No much whining done yesterday - from either side. Okay, i did. Said i was lonely. Part of what got me invited for that dinner in the first place. Could have told him that I was too lazy to cook, or that my fridge had a something that used to be edible, now looks like it's going to crawl out of the refrigerator soon.. with a whole clan in tow. No, had to play it subtle.
His estranged girlfriend is very argumentative, which is why is she is estranged. Told him if it's personality thing with your partner, better call it quits, or have them undergo brain surgery that changes personalities. He mentioned a hard word - cranio-something (damn) involving a brain surgery involves removing some parts of the brain, leaving a person completely useless, or in better, politically acceptable terms, a vegetable. And that was the end of that bit of the conversation.
Later, we were talking about dating some guy, and I said something like - Dating that guy would be as interesting as dating a ham sandwich. He looked at me and asked. Do you have much experience in that field? Well, i began. No...but it beats dating a vegetable, say a cabbage.
D mmhhh-ed me. When someone mmhh's you, it either means that a) they are not paying attention, b) they are wondering how to respond to you and c) Wondering whether you are still speaking the same language as them.
So would you date a cabbage?, he asked. Not the white ones, I said. Maybe the red cabbage. Got more personality.
I went home and thought about food and sexual fantasies. and wondered whether there is a term for sexual attraction to food. I found some:
Yeastiality - Sexual activity in which bread or dough is the focus of erotic desire.
Sitophilia - Sexual arousal by involving food in sex
Then I came across this one which we all suffer from.
Homeovestism - arousal of a person by wearing clothing appropriate to his or her gender. Isn't that also called being human?
No publicity is bad publicity. Ask Paris Hilton. Ok, bad advice, she'll probably tell you how dressing a chihuahua in an outfit matches yours is the best way to get on CNN. or sleeping with someone else's husband, or DUI, or making a reality show on all the above.
But all that will be good ways of getting publicity, compared to what I saw in the news today. Since Heath Ledger is dead, and the fact that the land Down Under can milk on the publicity the Tasmanian Devil cartoon character for only so long, they had to some up with ways to remain on the news. I think I would resort to such measures if my country was tucked away - no, that is too nice - crammed and stashed away in the end of the universe, faced with a prominent fear of being forgotten. A long time ago, they decided to be a continent, thus clinching the title of 'Smallest Continent'. That goes with the title of the 'Worst Places to Visit'. No, not by me. By Wikipedia. I swear. Don't believe me? Click Here.The argument behind this (no, not argument behind the reason why it's one of the worst places to visit- no one knows why for that one, it just is) is because the island sits on it's own tectonic plate. Not gonna go into that, don't know what it is, if you care, Google it. I dislike anyone who uses hard words to confuse me. I refuse to be intimidated by tectonic plates, or any other plates for that matter. They used that same hard (plate) word on Greenland when those freezing dudes up there wondered why they were not a continent too. Told them that they shared wildlife with North America while OZ had Kangaroos...in your face!!! I'm sure they said, and sent this post card (as displayed in the Greenland Museum of The Continental Status Quest)
If we were to, say by some sort of really really bad luck, agree with OZ argument for being a continent, then Madagascar should as well be! Apparently, of the 10,000 plants indigenous to this African Island, 90% are found nowhere else in the world. (that includes Australia, by the way). 90%! I'll do the math for you. That is a total of 9,000 plant species. Did you hear that Australia? Of course you did not, you're too far down in the hemisphere. Why do i even bother?
Talking of things indigenous to countries and continents brings me back to the Australian scientists. They used to, along long time ago, have an animal called the Tasmanian Tiger. This animal became extinct, maybe because they made it a delicacy. I don't know. Whatever the reason, the want to bring it back to life. And they have. Only this time, with some mouse elements in it. And it looks like this. (Disclaimer - Viewers discretion advised. Contains Nudity, Sex, Violence , a mouse, a Tasmanian Tiger and nothing else. If you don't see how sex is involved, you're probably too stoned. Animal Rights Activists will surely see the Violence. If you can see the Mouse, please save it. If you can see the Tiger, Kill it.)
Try as i may, i cannot come up with one good reason as to why they did that. Australians are not concerned that that is how their tax money is spent, if they are, well, they are too far for the rest of the world to hear them. I'd welcome Nate Smith to give me ten reason why he thinks they did though. And I'd welcome any mice lovers to hold demonstrations on behalf of the mice. And I'd ask Douglas Adams whether mice will still take over the world, at this rate, they really should, and start with OZ while at it.
And to the Aussies, please do not call that thing a Tiger, Tasmanian or not, whatever you do, please don't. (as requested by Tigers Association of the World)
My profile is still active on the dating site i met DVP, but modified. Today i logged in to about 10 messages waiting. This is hilarious!
|From:||The Hungarian Man |
I see that you realy are manager because we have same panel/table at company. I working at IBM - International Business machines corporation in Hungary as Test Engineer. (styorage business/DS 8000 series - www.ibm.com - storage - disk storage -DS8000 servers Now I am in the office.
. . . with lot of kisssssss,
Warning, this is a somewhat serious blog.
This blog is in inspired by Red Wine Gum's post.
I have been thinking about friendship and the presence of it in my life. Last week, I 'broke up' with a girlfriend over what I at first I though was trivial, even though I'm the one who walked out of the restaurant and told her it was not worth it. I was tired of being judged and constantly having to defend myself in a friendship. Especially when something happened and she went ahead and made decisions based on what she thought i had done and / or said without asking me what had really happened. To me, a friendship means that I will hear something being said about my friend, or something will happen that my friend is involved in and I will not accuse or make judgments or exclude her / him form decisions until he / she has told me what actually happened.
After that, I went home and really counted my friends.
D is my British friend who I will go over to his house occasionally, He will cook dinner and I will sing on his home karaoke machine. We will have dinner, watch House MD then I will go home. He will call me with his girl problems, he will even call me at 10.00 pm to whine about something at work. 'Mercy's Whining Org, state your whine.' is how i answer my phone every time he calls after 8.00pm. I will wake up and listen...Maybe it's because my significant other is not around a lot so i have time for him.. maybe.
G is a local DJ. I will go over to the club he plays on Wednesdays and Sundays. He will leave the booth and chat a while.. sometimes the club is too full, i will go over, hug him and sit back. Send a couple of drinks to his booth, he will send me sodas to my table. Sometimes i wait until the club closes and we walk to the bus stop at midnight. We walk and laugh.. We go our separate ways.
M is a guy i dated along time ago. We broke up because he was not ready for serious relationship, all he wanted was to have fun. 3 months later, his 'fun' girlfriend got pregnant. After one year of 'come we try' marriage, they broke up. I guess the kid was not part of the fun package he had in mind. I forgave him. and we became very good friends. His baby mama was not happy about the relationship. He told her he was not about end our friendship because she dis not approve. We came to a consensus (no, we did not sit at a round table and have a mature discussion). I was not to visit their house (that was before she moved out). He however said that he will visit my house when he feel like it and she had no control over that. We continued to go for lunches, drinks after work, late night calls when his son was crying endlessly and he had no idea what to do, he called me when his son was running a fever and he had no means to rush him to the hospital. On Valentine's day, he called me at work, told me that he needed to repay a loan he owed me. I went into town with a friend in tow. I was to meet him at my favourite supermarket (yes, i have one!). There he was, chocolates, flowers, wine and a card in hand! 'For you', he said. I never thought of M as the romantic kind, not even when we were dating. I remember buying him chocolate when we were dating only to have him eat all of it with the baby mama (before she was baby mama).
I laughed at him and asked him if he was dating again. He said no, they are for you. I kept on laughing. My pal pointed out that she thought he was serious. Yes he was. I stopped laughing, I took the card first.
Today I stood on the tiny weight scale in our office. Why we have one in the first place beats me. I think my boss is trying to tell us something. And the fact that it is conveniently put near the tea / coffee table, that is next to the staff refrigerator says a lot too.
Everyday i stand next to it as i pour myself a cup tea, or help myself to a Digestive cookie and make fun of how short it is. I mean, if you were five feet nothing (abbr. as 5' 0''), you would make fun of anything that you are lucky enough to look down on (including the cats, dogs and my boyfriend's you knowwhat). Today, I stood on it. Stood on it and looked down (sniggering)... As you may have guessed, I stopped sniggering when i saw the pointing needle go past 55 kgs. I have been telling myself that I'm 55 for a while now and when the needle stopped at 60, i jumped off!! Now, calculators of something i like to call Body Mustn't Increase (Body Mass Index) rates me as being in the 'overweight range' or slightly overweight. (note i did not put the bold in the 'overweight', they did. Either to show me how ugly that really is or just to emphasize.) This is what I'm told of my BMI:
Loosing weight will benefit your health and it is especially important that you don't gain any more. Being overweight is linked with type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, stroke, certain cancers and other types of illness.
Can you imagine the nerve!!!! Me, the woman who does splits. You don't' believe me?
Yeah, that is me, you can tell by the fat in my ass...i mean, by my dreadlocks. Me, the slightly overweight , in the Overweight range woman. Do you think these (web) sites can tell that i'm a woman keying in these numbers and are trying to be politically correct as possible. You know, no to piss that black woman off. You know how these women can get when angry...'specially when it's about her booty!
Anyway, So I have decided to create a poll. All my readers... Do you think I'm fat? you can be as politically correct as you want. If the answer is yes, I'm get off my ass and buy this t-shirt;
How can you tell? below is a pic of me, taken after the scale / BMI fiasco.
Call me a sadist but sometimes some tragic events are almost laughable. Take for instance, the Kenyan boy who a chopper crashed on in Canada on his way to the post office. I mean, out of all the people that live in Cranbrook, B.C., those walking on that road that day, the chopper had to burst in flames directly over and crashland - and on the day he was going to mail a letter - in this day and age of internet and emails.
I wonder, if ever there was a poll on how people wanted to go, do you think anyone would have come up with that option?
I was going through Pointless Banter's pages and came across a contest. I love contests, especially since i never win any. So why do I love them, because I get to fantasize endlessly on the winning speech I'll give one day.
This one in particular was asking the reader to post an answer to those hard hitting questions that teenagers send to Seventeen Magazine. It went like this:
Q: “What is the best way to let my mom know I’m pregnant?”
Dear confused pregnant teenager,
Unless your mother is the crazy, psychotic non-understanding type, she will definitely understand this one.You could tell her-
Mommy, i have something important to tell you. Danny and I were studying in the bedroom. We were setting up our apparatus for the Biology experiment. I was noticing that his apparatus kept growing huge and mine kept leaking. Suddenly, i tripped and fell coz the floor was now very wet. I hit Danny, who fell on top of me. Our apparatus got tangled on to each other. Every time i tried to get up, Danny pushed me down. He looked like he was in a lot of pain so i let him stay there for a while. Mom, you should have seen the expression on his face. After a few minuets, though it seemed shorter than that to me, his howled - like a dog does to the moon, only the dog sounds better - and collapsed on me. I think he got tired of trying to extricate himself. Funnily, his apparatus grew really small and it slid out.
You were parking the car by then , i did not think it was important to bother you with that. Plus Danny said it happens a lot during biology studies.Do you think I'd have won the $25 gift voucher?
I moved to Barclays Bank a few months ago, only because it sounded more international than 'The Bank Around the Corner'. OK, there is no such a bank but there will be if the current trend of naming bank in Kenya continues.
Barclays managed to convince me to get a credit card after years for refusing one. One salesman from my former bank did take me for dinner once to bribe me to get one. He tried to pay for dinner with his credit card, which was declined. Good going Sir!
After my LA trip, i was over my limit by thousands of shillings. Barclay Visa Card representatives kept calling me day and night- I'm serious to tell me that i was over limit on my card. One day they call me at 8.00 pm on a saturday and my patience- which i don't have much of to begin with- hit the roof. I calmly listened as he told me that my credit card was over the limit blah blah. I cut the guy short. (i would love to do that literally too). Like to about 2 feet, would make it easier to trample on him. I asked him if Barclays Bank was now a 24 hour bank. He said no. I asked him what time the bank closes on Saturdays. He said noon. I asked him what time it was. He said 8.15pm. I asked him if he calling me from Kenya. He said he was. I wanted to get clear on some things before i attacked him. And if he was a clever bloke, which he did not seem to be, he should have known where this line of questioning was leading to.
I told him that since I cannot do any banking at 8pm, whether on a weekday and definitely not on a weekend, I had no idea why he was calling me at that time to talk tell me what i already knew. I also made him understand that i had received about 6 calls that day only to tell me the same thing. He told me he could not see any rep who had logged in a call to me, which is why he called me. I told him i all the previous reps who had called me used the same line, and he should ask his superiors to change the 'How to lie to customers who are pissed off because you called them about the credit card limit at 8 pm on a Saturday evening' Manual and also I asked him if it was a matter of life and death. He said no. I asked him what I was supposed to do now that my credit was over the limit. He said i needed to put in money so that i could balance it. I asked him if it was possible to do it at that time. He said no. I asked him what was the Banks earliest convenience. He said Monday from 8.30 am. I asked him why he was calling me on Saturday at 8.15pm to tell me to balance my credit on Monday. He said he was sorry. I said that was not the answer to my question. I asked him if i went into the bank at 3.15 pm they would let me in. He said possibly. I asked him which one (most banks, including mine close at 3 pm in Kenya). He said any Barclays Branch. I asked for his full name and employee number so that if they refused to let me in, I could quote him, and also for his cellphone number, to call him if the security guards got rough with me for refusing to leave. He said he was sorry.
I let it go. On Monday morning, I called the Credit Card section and asked to talk to the Head of Credit blah blah. I had a very long conversation with him. Agreement - unless Barclays Bank is being robbed and they are calling me to tell me that my money is in danger, or it's on fire and they need me to help put out the fire to save my savings, no calls to me before 8.30 am and after 3.00pm. I got a deal. Not that I have lots of money in the bank. I wondered why, but then i thought, wouldn't any bank worth it's cents try to please a customer who always goes over her credit card limit?
I have a habit of keeping all receipts, including withdraw and deposit slips in my bag. I was clearing my bag and came across a withdraw slip. I never paid attention to what it says at the back as I'm always concerned on how much it says i have left in my account. I could not help but smile --