SANTA: What do you want for Christmas, little girl?
SALLY: I want my pop pop to stop taking pictures of me without my jammies on.
SANTA: Oh my… sir, what do you have to say for yourself?
POP POP: Does this mean I’m not getting that new camera?
Motel 6-Tallahassee, Florida-July 29, 2009
SIR MIX-A-LOT: Don’t be shy, baby.
GIRL: But I have to tell you… I have a small butt.
SIR MIX-A-LOT: In 2009 Sir Mix-a-Lot could more accurately be described as liking all butts big or small, round or ass-ymmetrical.
GIRL: That didn’t rhyme.
SIR MIX-A-LOT: Bend over.
Sir Mix-a-Lot: no longer discriminating on the topic of rumpuses.
Harmonicists’ musical talents are overrated. It’s not very big, and they only have to blow through it. There’s a reason it’s the instrument of choice for hobos.
My buddy’s grandfather died just two weeks after he turned 80, which though sad turned out to be convenient because the touching tribute his grandmother read at his birthday party made a perfect eulogy after a few simple edits, par example:
BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE: “Henry is a handsome man.”
EULOGY: “Henry was a handsome man.”
SOME GUY: Bobby Kennedy’s been shot dead!
OTHER SIRHAN SIRHAN: Noooooooo! I was going to vote for him! Who killed him?
SOME GUY: Shooter’s name is Sirhan Sirhan.
OTHER SIRHAN SIRHAN: Do you know where the nearest name change facility is?
COMMON SENSER: If you swallow your tongue, you’ll die.
IDIOT: Really? [PAUSE, WEIRD GRIMACE]
COMMON SENSER: What are you doing?
IDIOT: Seeing if I can swallow my tongue.
*****
Alternate ending:
[IDIOT DIES]
Dammit. Not again.
CUSTOMER: Is this actually urine?
FOUR-YEAR-OLD: How do you know what urine tastes like?
CUSTOMER: Touché. I’ll have another.
