idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the category “lists”

Blog-Phobia

fear

“I’m so afraid of having my picture taken.”

Here’s a bit of information: there are more than 500 official phobias.

If you have Epistemophobia, the fear of knowledge, learning that just freaked you out a tiny bit.

Some phobias are quite common:

Chiroptophobia: the fear of batsMany people perceive bats to be terrifying, blood-sucking, winged creatures of the night. Some people may wildly wave their hands and scream like a little girl when a bat flies past their head. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. Nothing!

Acrophobia: the fear of heights. Some people scream like a little girl if you put them on top of a ladder. This behavior is ridiculous–it’s not like there’s bats up there.

Genophobia: the fear of sex. This is an extremely common phobia; every girl I’ve ever dated has suffered from it.

Other phobias are a little more unusual:

Automatonophobia: the fear of ventriloquist’s dummies, animatronic creatures, wax statues – anything that falsely represents a sentient being. (This explains my fear of the Kardashians.)

Walloonphobia: the fear of Walloons. Walloons could burst at any moment making a loud popping sound and startling you.

(My apologies, I thought this was the fear of balloons. Walloons are the French-speaking population of Belgium; it’s perfectly normal to be startled when Walloons burst and make a loud popping noise.)

Chionophobia: the fear of snow. Snow is lovely, how could anyone be afraid of snow? Unless of course you’re referring to Jon Snow the British news presenter–he’s freaky.

Jon snow british

I find his respectability unsettling.

But I found this list to be horribly lacking. I suffer from a myriad of phobias that are not officially recognized:

Sonny-Bono-phobia: the fear of being haunted nightly by the ghost of Sonny Bono. I fear he’d hang out all night singing I’ve Got You Babe, openly questioning Cher’s life choices, and warning me of the dangers of downhill skiing.

Potato-salad-phobia: the fear of the potato salad your aunt brings to family picnics. The Salmonella is the least offensive thing in it.

Old-hag-phobia: the fear of your aunt whether she’s bearing potato salad or not.

Decimal-phobia: the fear of any number containing a decimal point. While many people have a fear of the number 13, I find numbers like 24.7, 44.6, or 58.758 to be horrifying. When I found out the average body temperature was 98.6, I stayed in a broom closet for days weeping inconsolably.

Broom-closet-phobia: the fear of broom closets. I developed this phobia after being trapped in a broom closet for days where I wept inconsolably.

Oikos-phobia: the fear of anything Greek (especially Greek yogurt) or any product that John Stamos is a spokesperson for.

Pi-phobia: fear of the Greek letter Pi. Pi represents 3.14: the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. John Stamos frequently uses Pi when he is determining the volume of the circle on the top of a Greek yogurt container. (Pi is a bucketful of issues for me.)

Ticking-time-bomb-phobia: the horrible fear that masked intruders will break into my home as I sleep, kidnap me, lock me in a room with a ticking time bomb, and bind my hands so that I must diffuse the bomb with my tongue. If they’re particularly sinister, they will slather the bomb with my aunt’s potato salad. (The potato salad really is crap.)

Kool-Aid-man-phobia: the fear that the Kool-Aid man will come crashing through the side of my home, leaving a gaping hole in the wall, and damaging the structural integrity of the entire house. He will then yell “Oh Yeah” with his big bulbous face, and behave as if the act of pouring me a glass of Kool-Aid makes up for giant mess he’s created.

Humor-blog-phobia: the fear of wasting precious moments of your life reading the moronic ramblings that some witless stooge has posted on WordPress.

While any phobia can cause issues and have ill-effect on one’s well being; it’s the last entry on the list that is especially debilitating. So watch out for it.

kool aid man

Stupid bulbous face. I’ll bet he read too many humor blogs.

Hammock Time–U Can’t Touch This

hammock spring

What could go wrong here?

The signs of spring are all around you:

  • The sound of your neighbor cursing bitterly as he scrapes the ice from his car transitions to the sound of your neighbor cursing bitterly as he scrapes the bird crap from his car.
  • The neighbor gets out his mooning garden gnome that will soon be facing your kitchen window.
  • You get out your shovel that will soon be smashing a mooning garden gnome…allegedly.
  • The final remnants of where Gerald the neighbor kid wrote insults to you in the snow with his pee, have melted away. (Gerald’s impressive vocabulary is surpassed only by his apparent bladder size.)
  • You look into the purchase of an electrified fence just powerful enough to repel a small child.
  • You dig out your hammock and prepare to hang it up.

Ah yes, that sweet summertime relaxation that is your hammock.

Every year you gleefully hang your hammock as you sing a song you’ve named Hammock Time. It’s a song that you’ve cleverly invented specifically for the annual occasion.

Note: Hammock Time is just U Can’t Touch This with the lyrics ‘hammer time’ replaced with the lyrics ‘hammock time.’ But you’re proud of it regardless.

Hammock placement is vital to reap the full supine benefits of the hammock experience. You had the perfect spot for your hammock until those butchers at Penelec decided no tree, branch, hedge, or growing life of any type should come within a thousand feet of their precious wires.

tree maintenance

Just a few examples of Penelec butchery.
(Image source: gooferie)

When choosing the proper location for your hammock, there are many factors to be taken into consideration:

  • You want an area with a nice breeze.
  • You want an area with shade.
  • You need to be certain there isn’t a bird’s nest directly above you. You don’t want bird crap smacking you in the face when you’re trying to relax. You really don’t want bird crap smacking you in the face in general; it’s a simple issue of sanitation.
  • Don’t put your hammock near a hornet’s nest; hornets are ill-tempered and have a twisted sense of boundary.
  • Don’t put your hammock over a pit of vipers. If you drop something in that pit–that’s where it’s staying.
  • If you can at all avoid it, don’t put your hammock on the edge of an active volcano. It only takes one pyroclastic flow to ruin your day.
  • You need a spot that assures a modicum of privacy if you like to relax in the nude. (Just another reason to avoid hornet’s nests when placing your hammock.)
  • You don’t want to place your hammock directly above another person’s hammock if your hammock isn’t properly secured and could potentially come crashing down on the person below you. (I’m looking at you, Lance.)
  • Despite the many valuable life lessons I’m certain you learned from Gilligan’s Island, the placement of your hammock between two coconut trees is not one of those lessons. Coconut trees have coconuts. Coconuts + gravity + your face = eating through a straw.
  • Don’t put your hammock anywhere Gerald the neighbor kid can reach you. If you have to dig a moat and fill it with piranha, do it.

If you’re anything like me, you are going to enjoy a summer filled with sweet Hammock Time.

Final note: If you are anything like me, you need to change everything about yourself immediately.

idiotprufs mooning gnome

If you find this little fella facing your hammock–then it’s really hammer time.

Pi a La Mode and Butterflies

butterfly

MARCH 14
National Children’s Craft Day
National Learn About Butterflies Day
Pi Day
National Potato Chip Day

I am so gad I checked the National Days Calendar today. I’d be tearing my hair out if I had missed National Potato Chip Day again. It is that magical time that only comes once a year.

And today is also National Pi Day! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Pi lately.

Well, to be honest, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Pie lately. But National Pie Day is January 23rd and can’t wait that long for some delicious pastry goodness.

And pies are round, so you can use Pi to determine the circumference of your pie. I think I’ll celebrate by getting myself a nice blueberry pie and have 3.14 slices…a la mode.

But the really exciting thing about today: it’s National Learn About Butterflies Day.

So I’m going to impart some of my extensive butterfly knowledge to the fine readers of this blog.

  • Butterflies are insects.
  • Flies refer to butterflies as the “clowns” of the insect world.
  • Butterflies don’t like butter and they really hate flies.
  • Butterflies are attracted to nectar-producing flowers that have red, yellow, orange, pink, or purple blossoms. Much like many of the Kardashians. (Similar brain mass.)
  • Butterflies often have brightly colored wings with unique patterns made up of tiny scales. Much like many of the Kardashians.
  • Butterflies hate being compared to the Kardashians.
  • Butterflies hate it when you mistake them for moths. (Moths are the mimes of the insect world.)
  • Mothra is giant butterfly that routinely battles Godzilla…and occasionally a Kardashian.
  • According to a gardening website, you can make butterfly snacks. (I ate twelve butterflies before I realized the website meant snacks for butterflies.)
  • Butterflies taste horrible and they get stuck in your teeth.
  • Lepidopterophobic is what you call someone with a fear of butterflies. The word pussy also works.
  • Scientists report there are between 15,000 and 20,000 different species of butterflies.
  • Scientists spend way too much time counting butterflies.
  • Monarch butterflies will travel thousands of miles to reproduce.
  • Butterfly Tinder sucks.
  • Most caterpillars are herbivores; the rest love pulled pork.
  • Butterflies have taste receptors on their feet.
  • Despite that thing about their feet–butterflies tend to be very smug.
Mothra Godzilla

Mothra battling a Kardashian…possibly Godzilla, it’s hard to tell.

You are now practically a butterfly expert.

Now you can spend the day munching on potato chips, calculating the volume of spheres, and ruminating on your newfound butterfly expertise.

You’re Welcome.

Final Note:

You may have noticed I ignored the fact that today is also National Children’s Craft Day.

Yes. Yes I did.

bowl of butterflies

This is a bowl of snacks for butterflies. It is not a bowl of butterflies to snack on…Idiot.

Just to Reiterate: Get the Hell Out of the Way

waiting in line

“Is she talking about her gout again? Kill me now.”

I know I’ve touched on the subject of checkout line etiquette on more than one occasion. And I know what you’re thinking:

why are you beating a dead horse?

It’s dead.

It’s been dead.

Just stop it.

You’re embarrassing yourself.

Would you beat Seabiscuit?

Seabiscuit’s a dead horse.

Seabiscuit was an underdog that overcame adversity.

Seabiscuit’s story was inspirational and heartwarming.

How dare you.

I’d wager that you didn’t even cry at the end of the Old Yeller.

Are you made of stone?

Old Yeller was a faithful and trusted companion that had to be put down because he contracted rabies protecting his master.

Monster.

Anyway, recent events have led me to believe that I need to revisit the subject of checkout line etiquette. First generally and then specifically.

Just a few thing you shouldn’t do in a check-out line, generally:

  • Haggle over the validity of a ten cent coupon for meatless vegan sausage. I mean what’s the point, it’s just awful. Go put it back on the shelf and calmly leave the store.
  • Suddenly realize, moments after the cashier has rung up your total, that you’ve forgotten something vital; something that you absolutely mustn’t leave the store without or your wife will give you that “how useless are you” speech. Retreat to the back of the store to retrieve the overlooked item. Take an eternity because you have trouble locating the item. Return fifteen minutes later with your item and an apologetic grin. (If the item you return with is meatless vegan sausage, you will be beaten sadistically.)
  • Try to pay with a personal check if don’t have any identification. How long have you been alive on this planet?
  • Try to pay with cash only to find you’re a little bit short. Then instead of putting something back (because everything you’re getting is absolutely vital, even the meatless vegan sausage) you rummage through all your jacket pockets to find that all you have are some loose Tic Tacs and an assortment of Canadian coins. (Obviously if you’re in Canada this is not a problem; Tic Tacs are widely used as currency there.)
  • Juggle running chain saws. There’s a lot of people in close proximity.
  • Lick the face of the person next to you and scream, “I have Ebola.”
  • Get in the express line with a cart full of items.
  • Get in the express line with a cart full of items. Then lick the face of the person next to you and scream, “I have Ebola.”
  • Mime. (Miming should never be done anywhere for any reason.)
  • Loudly sing Justin Bieber songs.
  • Quietly sing Justin Bieber songs.
  • Be Justin Bieber.

And now, something you shouldn’t do in a check-out line, specifically:

Don’t wait until you’ve been completely checked out, and all your items bagged, to start a personal conversation with the cashier.

  • We don’t care that your gout has been acting up.
  • We don’t care that your child’s soccer coach won’t put him in the game. Your kid sucks-deal with it.
  • We don’t care that your niece is in a loveless marriage. She shouldn’t have married her second cousin; we know it’s legal, but ick.
  • We don’t care that your gynecologist was arrested. He should have never been in that opium den to begin with. Do you really want a gynecologist who frequents opium dens.
  • But mostly, we couldn’t give a rodent’s behind who you think should have been eliminated from Dancing With The Stars. There was a brief fleeting moment when we cared, but it passed.

If you believe the people in your general sphere of being desperately need to know your opinion–you’re gravely mistaken.

Thank you.

Addendum:

If you’re upset because you’ve never seen Old Yeller and now I’ve ruined it for you, I have only one thing to say: Rosebud was a sled.

rosebud

At least I didn’t reveal that Bruce Willis’ character in Sixth Sense was dead the entire time.

It’s not About Me

egomania

An artist’s rendition of myself.

I’ve been asked why this blog doesn’t have an about page.

Do you think I’m egomaniac who can’t stop talking about himself and who constantly refers to himself in the third person?

Well, idiotprufs doesn’t do that.

There are many valid reasons why I don’t have an about page and many of them have nothing to do with the outstanding warrants. Here are just a few.

  • All of the outstanding warrants. (Since when did society get so touchy about not wearing pants?)
  • When this blog did have an about page, it seemed to be a repository for diatribes of hate. I had to block Grandma from leaving comments altogether.
  • To prevent stalkers. I am constantly being stalked by women. Mostly it’s because they have subpoenas for me. But that’s still stalking.
  • Plausible deniability. If I blog about having a cousin who’s half spider monkey, I can claim it’s a different blogger who coincidentally has a cousin who’s half spider monkey. (It’s really me…don’t tell anyone.)
  • I’m trying to keep a low profile because of the alien abductions. I’m tired of all their probing. Not anal probing, they just ask me a lot really personal questions…although most of the questions are about my anus.
  • I’m trying to reduce the amount of times I get pepper-sprayed to ten or twelve times a year.
  • I’m boring. If you need to read about me to be entertained, you have serious problems. (The fact that you’re reading this blog right now is an indicator that you may have issues.)
  • I’m still being hunted by the mimes. It’s just a good thing all their weapons are imaginary. Stupid mimes.
  • I’m very reclusive. I’m like Howard Hughs without the money, fame, or achievement. It’s just me alone in a room with jars of toenail clippings.
  • Pure and unapologetic laziness. An about page is just so much effort.

I may relent in the near future and post something about myself–I’m horribly weak. (See, there’s something about me.)

Final Note: while I may have none of the achievements of Howard Hughs, I am dating Katherine Hepburn. Actually, it’s Katherine Hepburn’s ghost. She’s cheating on me with Spencer Tracey’s ghost. It’s all very disturbing.

Hepburn

“You’re no Howard Hughs–except for the debilitating paranoia.”

It Doesn’t Meme a Thing

crazy girl meme

I’ve been seeing this meme crop up quite a bit recently, and it’s starting to bother me.

What are you really saying about yourself when you slap this on your Facebook page?

IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE MY HOME COOKED MEALS WHEN THEY’RE RIFE WITH SALMONELLA.

YOU DESERVE MY HOME COOKED MEALS WHEN THEY’RE NOT INDUCING PROJECTILE VOMIT.

OR

IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE MY PUBLIC MELTDOWN WHEN YOU DIDN’T IMMEDIATELY AGREE WITH ME WHEN I SAID OUR WAITRESS LOOKS LIKE A WHORE.

YOU DON’T DESRVE ME WHEN I’M NOT HURLING UTENSILS ACROSS A CROWDED RESTAURANT.

OR

IF YOU CAN’T HANLDE ME WHEN I’M STABBING YOU IN THE FACE WITH A BAYONET. 

YOU DESREVE ME WHEN I’M NOT STABBING YOU IN THE FACE WITH A BAYONET.

OR

I’M A PHYCHO!

woman crazy

“You don’t deserve me when I’m not trying to murder you in your sleep.”

 

I’ve Missed Again

regret

My life is littered with regrets.

  • The time I saw that pretty girl and didn’t introduce myself.
  • The time I saw that pretty girl and did introduce myself. (The pepper spray was entirely uncalled for.)
  • Every time I’ve uttered the phrase ‘what’s the worst that could happen’ right before doing something.
  • The time as a child I tried to melt Play-Doh on the stove.
  • The time as an adult I tried to melt Play-Doh on the stove. (I’m not sure what I thought would have changed, certainly not smoke alarms.)
  • The time my uncle told me to grab the electric fence behind my grandmother’s house…and I listened to him.
  • The shocking amount of times I’ve underestimated the power of electricity.
  • The time I was asked by a woman “how stupid do you think I am” and I gave a quantifying answer.
  • The time a woman asked me to guess her age and I answered her honestly.
  • The sheer disappointment certain to be felt by anyone searching for the Phil Collins classic Missed Again, and this blog is what they find instead.
  • The sheer disappointed this blog causes in general.
  • My Hello Kitty phase. (I’m just joking about this one–I regret nothing!)
  • That I have once again missed National Toothache Day.

That’s right. February 9th was National Toothache Day and I’ve completely missed it. The decorations never mad it out the box. And I completely forgot about the traditional National Toothache Day dinner: Gummi Bears, Mountain Dew, and a big heaping bowl of molasses, followed by poor oral hygiene.

I’d say don’t cry over spilled milk, but National Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk Day was February 11th. I Missed that one too!

I’m starting to feel anxious, but National Stress Day isn’t until November 4th.

You have no idea how much that stresses me out!

From this point forward I’m marking my calendar.

I’ve already circled March 5th: National Multiple Personality Day. Last year I relied on one of my other personalities to remind me, but the only thing they ever tell me is to kill again.

But this year, we’ll be ready.

missed again

“You’ve missed again, idiotprufs.”

The 4-Way Stop in Rural Pennsylvania–The Bermuda Triangle of Traffic

You think this place is mysterious and unexplainable?

You think this place is mysterious and unexplainable?

It was suggested in the previous post that the complexities of the 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania are comparable to Physics or high-level mathematics.

Outlandish you say?

As you approach it, you begin to feel a queasiness in your stomach. You can’t see it yet, but you know it’s out there, looming in the distance.

Then you see it.

That queasiness in your stomach tightens into a knot.

Your heart pounds.

Tendrils of fear burrow down your spine.

Your palms dampen and beads of sweat build on your forehead.

You’re sweating like a virgin on prom night.

You are bearing down on a 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania.

The 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania is the Bermuda Triangle of the driving world. The gauges in your vehicle begin to malfunction. The laws of physics begin to fail. You become disoriented and a form of temporary stupidity sets in–on occasions the stupidity is permanent. The rules of polite society crumble into chaos.

Despite the evidence, there are a distinct set of rules to follow when approaching a 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania:

  1. Prepare your insurance information before you get to the intersection, keeping in mind the inevitable collision.
  2. Ease your way toward the intersection, displaying cautious trepidation.
  3. Make eye contact with the other motorists, looking for signs of fear and weakness.
  4. Identify the motorist displaying the most fear and weakness, he has the right of way.
  5. Wait for the motorist who has the right of way to go.
  6. Motion disgustedly when nobody goes.
  7. Spend several interminable moments as all the motorists gawk numbly at each other.
  8. Disgustedly pull into the intersection.
  9. Slam on the brakes after all of the motorists have pulled into the intersection.
  10. Slowly put your vehicle in reverse as you suspiciously eye the other motorists.
  11. Exclaim, “what the hell is wrong with these idiots,” when again, nobody goes.
  12. Decide you’ve had enough and floor it.
  13. Push the airbag away from your face as it deflates.
  14. Marvel at the 4 car collision you’ve just been a part of.
  15. Curse loudly…or at least as loudly as you can with a broken jaw.

The following warning sign should be before every 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania:

road_sign_rectangal_blank

Amelia Earhart didn’t disappear over the Bermuda Triangle; she’s at a 4-way stop outside of Erie Pennsylvania, shaking her fist at a bunch of idiots.

Exactly

Exactly.

It’s Complicated

the office

WARNING: If you happen to be one of those progressively minded individuals whose relationship status on Facebook is “it’s complicated” you are about to be mocked.

Will you be mocked mercilessly?

Perhaps. Let’s just see how things go.

There are many things in this world that are complicated:

  • Differential equations.
  • Neurosurgery.
  • String theory.
  • The proposition of an interdimensional rift.
  • Navigating a four-way stop in rural Pennsylvania. (You know who you are.)
  • Explaining Schrodinger’s cat to a dog. (Obviously cats get it.)
  • Explaining Schrodinger’s cat to a Sociology major named Brenda.

WARNING: Sociology majors named Brenda may also take a hit in this post.

  • The musical constructs of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
  • The paintings of Salvador Dali.
  • Trying to ascertain the reason for the Kardashian’s mystifying popularity.
kardashians

It’s mystifying.

There are several reasons a person might choose ‘it’s complicated’ to represent their relationship status:

  • They’re dating their second-cousin and they’re not quite sure if it’s legal in their state of residence. However, they are certain that it is just a bit icky.
  • The relationship status of the person they’re currently involved with is married. As is the status of that person’s spouse.
  • Facebook doesn’t currently provide the option: stalking someone.
  • You’re a Sociology major named Brenda.
  • You’re one of those weirdos who married themselves. Let’s be honest, being married to yourself is just the same as being single, but sad and a little creepy.
  • You’re one of those weirdos who married a tree. Just think of the uncomfortable places you’re going to get splinters.
  • You’re a Sociology major named Brenda who divorced yourself to marry a tree you had previously been stalking. (You then dumped the tree for a lumberjack–the ultimate betrayal.)
  • You thought it was: it’s complimentary. Because everyone just says glowing things about you…despite the fact you were married to a tree.
  • It’s complicated sounds better than I’m a man slut.
  • It’s not really that complicated–you’re just not that bright.

My advice: just leave your relationship status blank…or date a tree, it’s up to you.

Her name is Willow, and she is delightful.

Her name is Willow and she is delightful.

 

Just a Few idiotprufs

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. Coyote, idiotprufs legend.

Idiot: a dolt, a dullard, a mentally deficient person, the guy who drives down the road with his seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

idiotpruf: Any lesson learned as the direct result of an overt act of idiocy, or the observation of an overt act of idiocy. An act that proves that you are in fact an idiot.

Example: If you don’t want to be mocked by other motorist; don’t drive down the road with your seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

I’ve been compiling a list of idiotprufs based on my own acts of idiocy, from observing the acts of idiocy of others, and from stories I’ve been told.

Just a Few idiotprufs

  • Regardless of how far your garden hose sprays; you’re still too close to the bees nest.
  • Being asked,”and what did we learn today,” as bee stingers are being pulled from your face, is the epitome of adding insult to injury.
  • Don’t try to remove a hornet’s nest from your garage by burning it out; you will wind up with half a garage, and a hornet’s nest.
  • You never want to find out the quantifying measure for the phrase, mad as a hornet.
  • Firemen like to say snide things as they hose down the side of your garage.
  • Regardless of how sturdy an umbrella seems, it is not an adequate substitute for a parachute.
  • You can be lying in a crumpled mass in the dirt, broken bones (some of them relatively important) jutting through your skin, and the first thing an adult will think to say is “what in the world did you think would happen if you jumped off the roof?”
  • Never try to pound a nail into something above your head using the dull side of a hatchet; misusing a hatchet in this way might cause its head to pop off.
  • A hatchet head only has to fall a foot or two to cause a considerable amount of damage to a human skull.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.
  • If you don’t want to be bitten by the big brown snake; don’t poke at it with a stick.
  • Snake bites bleed a lot.
  • The average household vacuum cleaner is not designed to pick up paperclips; attempting to do so may cause the average household vacuum cleaner to explode and catch on fire.
  • A burning vacuum cleaner may also ignite the carpet.
  • A burning carpet will set off every smoke alarm in the house.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • Melting Play-Doh in a frying pan seems like a brilliant scientific experiment to a child.
  • That child’s mother: not so much.
  • Burning Play-Doh will set off a smoke alarm.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • One errant sock in the laundry can turn an entire load of whites into a load of pinks.
  • “Hey, you know that pink sweatshirt you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve turned the laundry pink.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will turn anything white.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will also give you a pile of really white rags.
  • “Hey, you know that really white sweatshirt full of holes you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve used too much bleach on the laundry.
  • A car that has been run out of motor oil, is less of automobile, and more of giant metal traffic clogger.
  • Asking your girlfriend, whose car has been run out of motor oil, if she knows why it’s called a dipstick, is a really bad idea.
  • When your girlfriend asks, “how stupid do you think I am?” she is not looking for a quantifying answer.
  • The phrase “some day we’ll look back at this and laugh” doesn’t always apply.

Seriously, I literally have hundreds of these.

I’m finding that everybody has some, do you?

Addendum

The actual word idiot-proof is a misnomer; there is nothing a true idiot can’t screw-up when given the chance.

idiotpruf

Exactly.

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