idiotprufs

the blog that made the pope laugh so hard he peed himself.

Archive for the month “November, 2018”

Exploding Vacuum Cleaners and the Great Carpet Fire

It’s happened to everyone hasn’t it? Throughout the course of your life at some point or another, you are going to set somebody’s carpet on fire.

Accidents happen. Things explode. Things catch on fire–it’s inevitable really.

It shouldn’t be a big deal.

But evidently it is a big deal to some people.

It’s a big deal to people who have no sense of humor.

It’s a big deal to people who have a tendency to be ill-tempered.

It’s a big deal to people who have a tendency to say angry hurtful things.

It’s a big deal to people who have no sense of humor, a tendency to be ill-tempered, and to say angry hurtful things.

It’s a big deal to people who have high-pitched, squeaky, cartoon-rodent voices.

It’s a big deal.

There were valuable lessons learned the day of the exploding vacuüm cleaner and the great carpet fire:

  • The average household vacuüm cleaner was not designed to pick up paperclips.
  • Attempting to pick up paperclips with an average household vacuüm cleaner might cause it to explode.
  • When the vacuüm cleaner you’re using begins to make a high-pitched whining sound, don’t ignore it.
  • When the high-pitched whining sound starts making the neighbors dog bark, don’t ignore it
  • If you’re thinking to yourself, this thing sounds like it’s about to explode, it probably is.
  • An exploding vacuüm cleaner sends a thick cloud of smoke and dust into the air like a mini-volcano.
  • Commenting to the vacuüm cleaner’s owner that it looked really cool when it exploded, like a mini-volcano, does not help the situation.
  • An exploding vacuüm cleaner creates an enormous mess while simultaneously removing your ability to clean up that enormous mess.
  • An exploding vacuüm cleaner might also burst into flames.
  • A burning vacuüm cleaner will probably set the carpet on fire.
  • A carpet fire will probably set off the smoke alarm.
  • Smoke alarms are obnoxiously loud.
  • A blaring smoke alarm will bring the vacuüm cleaners owner running into the room.
  • A contentious conversation might result with the squeaky-voiced owner of the vacuüm cleaner.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is my smoke alarm going off?

Fire-starter: Probably because of all the smoke in the room.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the room full of smoke?

Fire-starter: It probably came from the carpet fire.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the carpet on fire?

Fire-starter: It must have spread from the vacuüm cleaner.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the vacuüm cleaner on fire?

Fire-starter: It caught on fire after it exploded.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why did it exploded?

Fire-starter: Act of God?

Squeaky-voiced Owner: It sounds more the act of an idiot.

Fire-Starter: I turned it on and it just burst into flames.

Squeaky-voiced Owner: It just burst into flames?

Fire-starter: Crazy isn’t it? There should be a clearly defined label that reads: Warning, use may cause detonation.

Squeaky-voiced owner: You must think I’m the biggest moron on the face of the planet.

Fire-starter: Not the whole planet.

Squeaky-voiced owner: (Silent staring, and in a really creepy frightening way.)

Fire-starter: You know, if you cleaned more often, I wouldn’t have to…

Squeaky-voiced owner: (Censored for filth and because it was really hurtful.)

Fire-starter: That’s not a real word, and a human isn’t physically capable of doing it.

Squeaky-voiced owner: Let’s find out.

 

There was one more important lesson learned: the phrase “some day we’ll look back at this and laugh” does not always apply.

You think this is scary? Just let me near your vacuum cleaner.

Drew Barrymore gets it.

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The Family Thanksgiving Without a Stabbing…Fingers Crossed

 

Bourbon

The Wild Turkey at your family’s Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is just a few days away and you’re still trying to recover from the previous years festivities.

Your Uncle Gabe attempted to fry the turkey in a deep fryer, which led to him setting fire to most of the barn, part the house, and all of his face. He burned off all of his hair. (Even the hair around his naughty bits.)

Your Uncle Finster was on his way when he was pulled over by a police officer, which led to the following conversation:

Police Officer: there are 15 empty cans of Coors Light on the seat next to you.

Uncle Finster: it’s a long drive–at least 20 minutes.

Police Officer: there’s a child in the backseat playing with a revolver.

Uncle Finster: it’s not loaded.

Police Officer: the child next him is playing with the bullets.

Uncle Finster: don’t worry, she never shares.

Luckily for Finster the police officer was called away due to a convenience store being robbed.

Your cousin Milton was arrested for robbing a convenience store.

It turned into a hostage situation, but since he was the only customer, he was forced to take himself hostage. The police stormed the store, so he shot himself leg. As they dragged him away he was heard yelling, “I didn’t want to do it, but they gave me no choice.”

Your cousin Milton is stupid.

Your aunt Peggy announced that she had taken one of those DNA tests and discovered she is 46% troll. She declared she was going to leave your uncle Karl, live under a bridge, never bathe, consume nothing but other people refuse and rats, and engage in occasional tussles with goats.

Basically her normal routine, just under a bridge.

Your uncle Karl seemed pretty okay with it all.

There were two stabbings last year, but that was down from previous years. You’re hoping that trend continues.

There’s bound to be a few drunken brawls, but you hid your uncle Philbert’s crossbow, so nobody should lose an eye this year.

Your in-laws will gather outside around a barrel fire like a homeless rabble and drink copious amounts of liquor as they shiver and lament their obvious and dreadful life choices. But at least they’ll be outside.

Your aunt Zelda will bring her famous potato salad, so there will be vomiting…some of it projectile. But you’ve invested in a case of Pepto Bismol and a disposable mop.

This year you’re feeling good about things. You’re feeling confident. You’re feeling prepared. You’re feeling hopeful.

Who are you kidding–it’s going to be a disaster.

police lights

“Can’t we have just one Thanksgiving dinner that isn’t lit by police lights?”

What the Hell, Greenland?

children on ice

Greenlanders playing on a giant piece of ice, and not visiting this blog.

So I was perusing the map on my stats page that indicates where page views originate when I made a disturbing discovery: there are 183 countries and territories represented, but there was not one page view from Greenland.

What the hell, Greenland?

I understand that Greenland has a population of only 56,000 people, but all I’m asking for is one page view.

Do you know what this is, Greenland?

It’s a list of places from which this blog has received one page view–I’m not greedy.

This blog has received multiple page views from Côte d’Ivoire and St. Kitts and Nevis.

That second place is clearly made-up.

And don’t try telling me to leave you alone because Greenland is cold and desolate and miserable. I don’t want to hear any of that whimpering–I live near Erie, Pennsylvania!

Let’s get to it, Greenland–I will be awaiting your response.

Addendum

My apologies to St. Kitts and Nevis–you are a real place.

st. kitts

St. Kitts and Nevis has a population of only 55,000 people–are you paying attention, Greenland?

Medical Marijuana Offers Hope to the Terminally Well-Organized — Gerbil News Network

WESTLAND, Mass. In this affluent suburb of Boston, marijuana use has historically been limited to rebellious youths, according to Police Lieutenant Jim Hampy. “We could spot ’em by the eerie purple glow emanating from basement windows,” he says, as he takes a sip of his Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. “The kids with their Jimi Hendrix posters that they […]

via Medical Marijuana Offers Hope to the Terminally Well-Organized — Gerbil News Network

I’ve Been so Busy…and Invertebrate

She turned me into a banana slug...I got better.

She turned me into a banana slug…I got better.

You may have noticed my recent absence from the blogging world.

You probably didn’t notice it right away. It just suddenly dawned on you one day that a persistent irritant had disappeared. Like when you suddenly realized the itching had stopped because that annoying rash on your testicles had finally gone away.

But you’re not rid of me yet. You can get all the restraining orders and pepper-spray you want, but I’m not going anywhere.

Take that, Beth.

Note: the previous line was for comedic effect only. I am not following or harassing a woman named Beth in any manner that could be construed as a violation of any court order.

You see, I’m like herpes: you will never truly be rid of me. I’ll always be there lurking, just waiting to show up and ruin your weekend. (It’s been a rough few months.)

Anyway, there have been several reasons for my dearth of activity:

Miming

I’ve taken up the silent art in an elaborate scheme to infiltrate the world of mime and sabotage it from the inside.

I planned to work tirelessly to become the world’s most prolific and prominent mime.

Upon reaching the pinnacle of miming, I would embark on a downward spiral of debauchery and scandal that would permanently stain the miming world.

Unfortunately I was unable to bring my plan to fruition; it seems miming is way harder than it looks. Also, I’ve discovered I’m allergic to white face-paint, berets, and being punched in the groin by small children. (They have little fists of steel.)

I do however plan to go forward with the downward spiral of debauchery and scandal.

Juggling Chainsaws

My attempt at learning to juggle chainsaws was going along swimmingly…until suddenly it wasn’t.

Learning To Write With My Left Hand

Upon falling victim to an unforeseeable and unpreventable accident, I have lost all use of my right hand.

Well…that’s not strictly true; it makes a interesting paperweight.

Would it be so difficult to print the words, NOT TO BE USED FOR JUGGLING OR ANYTHING COOL, somewhere on a chainsaw?

Note: perhaps I should have learned how to mime chainsaw juggling.

chainsaw hand

Where’s the warning, Husqvarna?

I Spent Several Weeks As A Banana Slug

If you’ve read this blog in the past, you will know that my aunts are a great big gaggle of witches.

You will also know that I have on occasion angered them. Maybe it was something I said. Maybe it was something I did. Perhaps it was something I wrote in this blog about their chunky thighs, potato-faced children, or their general tendency to be evil hags.

But usually it’s my mere existence that sets them off.

Anyway, they turned me into a banana slug.

It’s ridiculously hard to use a keyboard when you’re a banana slug. You get brilliant ideas, but you just can’t execute them.

On the upside, banana slugs have voracious sex lives. There is nothing in this world sexier than a banana slug…to another banana slug.

Take that, Beth. You’re no banana slug.

banana slug

Sexy!

I’ve Had No Good Ideas

I’m just kidding; I’ve never had any good ideas.

I promise I will post again soon, and it will be my usual level of crap.

hand

It’s also useful for scaring small children after they’ve punched you in the groin.

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