Repair work will begin soon on the dilapidated Granada Apartments as a truckload of duct tape was delivered on Thursday. Project Manager Robert Harrison says “We figure 5,000 rolls of duct tape ought to do it. We’ll use regular strength on the walls, roofs, and floors, and heavy-duty strength on the balconies.” The property was […]
via Granada Apartments to be Duct Taped Back Together — gooferie
The neighbors from across the street.
Do you have neighborhood kids whose typical daily behavior allows you to describe them, without fear of gratuity or contradiction, as vicious rampaging beasts?
Do you have neighborhood kids who trample your rose bushes?
Do you have neighborhood kids who kick over your garden gnomes and pee on them?
Of course you do.
Do you also have slack-jawed dull-witted neighbors who sit on their front porch all day and intently watch everything you do as they suck down bottles of Mad Dog 20/20 and smoke hand rolled cigarettes?
Do these neighbors frequently come over to your house to complains about things?
Do they complain that the squirrels living in the pine tree in your backyard make too much noise with their incessant chittering?
Do they complain that these squirrels keep dropping pine cones into their yard in a defiant and cocky manner?
Do they also claim the squirrels are stealing their mail and even responding to some of it?
Do you have neighbors who have done an enormous amount of hallucinogenic drugs in their life?
Of course you do.
Are you sick of buying raffle tickets every time someone in town wants to send their kid to cheerleader camp?
How many camps does it take to learn to be cheery?!
I have a simple solution to your problem: a moat!
For only $99.99 you can receive a complete do it yourself moat installation kit.
The kit includes:
And when you’re not using the shovel to dig the moat, it can be effectively used to whomp undesirable visitors over the head. (You’ll probably have to deal with some mealy-mouthed guy from the borough, droning on and on about what residential properties are or aren’t zoned for.)
So order now and you too can know the security of your own moat!
Drawbridge not included.
Handy tool/effective head whomper.
Another post from Gooferie.
Members of the Glenwood Association are expressing concern that a house in their neighborhood is being rented out to people who can’t afford to buy a house there.
“This is very unsettling,” said Glenwood resident Ron Cokun, “You should see some of the cars these renters are driving. Not one Mercedes or BMW – and some of the cars are over three years old!”
Peeking out her window as a car pulled into the driveway of the house in question, neighborhood resident Paula McMorris said, “You can tell by just looking at their hands that these people do manual labor for a living. My parents didn’t give me every advantage in life so I could live in a neighborhood with people like that!”
Board member Tom C. Baldt agreed, “There are other parts of the city where these renters would feel more comfortable, being around their own kind. Why can’t…
View original post 69 more words
Archeologists from the Academy of Social Services of North Korea’s History Institute have made an important discovery: they have discovered a unicorn lair. (I’m not making this up) The report says that they have “reconfirmed” the presence of the lair. Apparently the ancient Korean King Tongmyong rode a unicorn.
An artist’s rendition of the king’s unicorn. His name was sparkle; he hated his name.
Why is this the first I’m hearing about this? There was nothing about a unicorn riding, ancient North Korean king, in any history book I ever read. How do you leave that out?
As it turns out, this wasn’t the only bizarre revelation uncovered by North Korean scientists:
Bigfoot: a victim of the freshman 15 and a poor camera angle.
“You make me very angry.”
“Where’s my unicorn?”
Isn’t that the face of man who needs to have his own unicorn?
And maybe a few less nuclear missiles.
He can keep Dennis Rodman.
Magic!
Lady Bigfoot: upset about the allegation of floppy breasts.
In a recent post, Bursting With Pride in the Great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I shared a few tips from the Facebook page of a group devoted to Bigfoot hunting. The page’s creator, John Reed, related the following tips if you should happen to find yourself face to face with a Sasquatch:
“bigfoot tip #1 when being chased by a sasquatch run up hill if its a male .. they have an extended forehead so they have to stop offten to look up.” He adds, “if its a female run down hill they have no bras so they got big ole lady boobs and when running downhill they flop about and they have to stop to plop them over their shoulders…..”
So the first time I read this, I had a number of thoughts:
The verdict is in: Lady Bigfoot is pissed. She is so upset, she is setting aside her reclusive nature to come forward and address the comments made on the Facebook page. In an Idiotprufs exclusive, she has agreed to sit down with me to discuss it.
Idiotprufs: So, what are your thoughts on the tips John Reed gave his Facebook followers?
Lady Bigfoot: First, of course I don’t have a bra. Where would I get a bra?
Idiotprufs: From a clothesline?
Lady Bigfoot: Do I look like a thief to you?
Idiotprufs: No ma’am.
Lady Bigfoot: What do you think would happen if were to stroll into Victoria’s Secret looking for a bra?
Idiotprufs: I don’t know.
Lady Bigfoot: People would panic. People would scream and run away. Hysterical women would call me a monster, and blast me in the face with pepper spray. Men with tranquilizer guns would show up and put me down like I was a lowly bear. They would lock me in a cage, and poke and prod at me. That’s what would happen.
Idiotprufs: Wow, that is eerily similar to my experience at Victoria’s Secret, but for completely different reasons.
Lady Bigfoot: (Glares at me.)
Idiotprufs: Sorry, continue.
Lady Bigfoot: Second, these breasts don’t need a bra; they are plenty firm. Go ahead and feel them.
Idiotprufs: Oh I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Lady Bigfoot: Really I insist.
Idiotprufs: I don’t think I…
Lady Bigfoot: Feel my breasts or I will rip your arms off and beat you to death with them!
Idiotprufs: Yes ma’am.
Lady Bigfoot: What do you think?
Idiotprufs: I think this is the most uncomfortable moment of my life.
Lady Bigfoot: (Growls at me)
Idiotprufs: They are very firm. They’re more hairy than I’m used to…but sadly not by much.
Lady Bigfoot: You let your millions of viewers know the truth about my breasts.
Idiotprufs: Millions of viewers?
Lady Bigfoot: You’re Maury Povich aren’t you?
Idiotprufs: Uh…sure why not.
Lady Bigfoot: I have to get home; Bigfoot will be waiting for supper, and those grubs and berries won’t gather themselves.
Idiotprufs: That sounds nice.
Lady Bigfoot: It’s not nice; grubs are disgusting. Unfortunately it’s impossible to a get a pizza delivered to your home when your address reads: behind a rock in the woods.
Idiotprufs: I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.
Lady Bigfoot: It was my pleasure…idiot.
As you can see John Reed’s tips are simply ridiculous; if a female Bigfoot is chasing you, just compliment her breasts.
Maury may have never done a show about Lady Bigfoot boobs, but it’s right in his wheelhouse.
So you want to throw your sweet and precious child the perfect birthday party.
Note: I write sweet and precious because I’ve discovered if you refer to a person’s child as a dull-witted potato-faced brat, they tend to find offense–people are so sensitive.
Because this blog is nothing if not helpful, (I laughed a little bit there too) I’ve decided to publish a brief list of things not to do for a child’s birthday party.
Don’t hire a clown.
Clowns are evil and they prey on small children–most people don’t realize the movie It is a documentary.
Don’t hire a mime.
Mimes will never break character regardless of how badly you need to speak to them. Whether it’s about something regarding your child’s birthday party, whom to write the check to, or if they would please stop miming inappropriate things about your wife–they won’t break character. And when they start to do that fake crying thing after you’ve become frustrated, you are forced (by law if my ballot initiative passes) to punch them in the gut.
Amazingly, they become all Chatty Cathy once the police arrive.
Don’t hire a guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume.
While SpongeBob is a beloved cartoon character, a guy in a SpongeBob costume is a six foot yellow crazy-faced monster that makes small children scream and pee their pants. And when it turns out the guy in the costume has warrants out for his arrest and steals, that’s just an added bonus.
Don’t invite that brat cousin.
We all have that one brat cousin with the overbearing mother (some of us have several) who just ruin everything. She yells, she throws tantrums, and she thinks everything is about her–and that’s the mother. The child is a torrent of shrill screaming misery: wrenching gifts away from her cousin as she screams mine with a voice that shatters glass, eardrums, and occasionally a human soul. She demands more cake even though her first two pieces of cake are spread over the drapes, the dog, the cat, and the inside of your couch cushions. She’s the reason your grandfather is always “losing” his hearing aide.
Also, she has a potato-face.
Don’t do the trick candles.
Don’t tell your child she can open her gifts after she’s blown out the candles on her birthday cake and then use those delightful trick candles that you can’t blow out–unless you want birthday cake smashed all over the wall. (Perhaps it’s time to concede the overbearing mother with the brat child is you.)
Just Listen.
When your charming and intelligent nephew (often referred to as brilliant by friends, acquaintances, and people who have seen him at a distance) suggests you hire a monkey in a cowboy hat, listen to him. Who doesn’t love a monkey in a cowboy hat? If you’re lucky it’ll throw a fistful of feces at that overbearing mother and her brat child. (Again, that might be you.)
Your child’s birthday party is still gong to be a disaster, there’s only so much I can do…your child is a brat.
You are welcome.
“I’ve got a fistful of feces with your name on it.”
In a joint statement, Erie’s four sister cities have announced that they are ending their familial relationship with Erie, at least for the time being. The four sister cities: Zibo, China; Lublin, Poland; Merida, Mexico; and Dungarvan, Ireland made the announcement after seeing recent stories coming out of Erie about job losses, drug overdoses, and […]
via Erie’s Sister Cities to Rescind Sibling Status — gooferie
“I hope no one saw me.”
A resident of the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania has reported to police that his 1973 Winnebago motor home was vandalized by a Bigfoot. The windows and tail lights were broken out with what he described as a fusillade of rocks.
Note: isn’t fusillade a fun word to use?
In the police report the suspect was described as, “very large, brown in color, and walks somewhat hunched over.” The victim was unable to describe whether or not the attacker “was hairy” investigators added.
Evidently in an attempt to avoid discovery the ape-like creature began to hurl rocks at the Winnebago.
Note: avoiding discovery is only 8th or 9th on my list of reasons to hurl rocks at things.
In an odd coincidence, it seems the victim happens to be a Bigfoot hunter and has a Facebook group devoted to such. His Facebook page offers some advice if you come face-to-face with a Sasquatch. Here are couple of gems, copied exactly as he wrote them:
Bigfoot tip #1: when being chased by a sasquatch run up hill if its a male .. they have an extended forehead so they have to stop offten to look up.
Note: I don’t know if the victim pronounces the T in often, but he obviously adds an extra F.
Bigfoot tip #2: if its a female run down hill they have no bras so they got big ole lady boobs and when running downhill they flop about and they have to stop to plop them over their shoulders…..
Note: I hope that image is now seared into your brain.
Here in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania we are simply bursting with pride.
The preferred weapon of Bigfoot.
One test subject; look how freaking happy he is.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
I’ve finally done it.
I’ve developed a permanent and foolproof cure for athlete’s foot.
It’s brilliant in its concept and elegant in its simplicity.
For the small cost of just $99.99, (with an unreasonably exorbitant shipping and handling cost, which I will inform of after you’ve made the purchase) I will send you my product.
The kit includes the following items:
Note: For a small additional cost, I will send you the jumbo sized bottle of aspirin, you’re probably going to need it. If you should happen to have any morphine lying around the house, that would be good too.
Imagine all the ways that using my product can make your life better:
Note: your aunt’s presence has already ruined Thanksgiving; she’s an ogre.
There are a few slight drawbacks in the use of my product; all of which, I will inform you of in tiny unreadable print that scrolls across the bottom of screen at light speed.
Some of these slight problems are:
All I need now is approval from the FDA. Unfortunately this has been far more difficult than I had anticipated. The people at the FDA are really uptight and condescending, and they tend to throw around words like irresponsible and unthinkable, a great deal more than is necessary.
It’s been a long process, but according to one source from the FDA, all I’m waiting on now is a cold day in Hell.
My product would result in another happy customer, and a tasty appetizer.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
I have also been working on a permanent cure for jock itch. Those results haven’t been quite as promising.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
A lovely family having a picnic–this is not your family.
The big family picnic has hit your community like a tsunami and is now slowly receding back into the ocean.
Your local emergency room has been taken off high alert and much of their staff has been given a well deserved vacation.
Once again your family has overtaxed their staff, frayed their nerves, and extinguished their stock of gauze, sutures and eye patches.
They’ve treated various members of your family for the following injuries, ailments, and assorted issues:
The source of many of the problems was your uncle and his trunk full of games/weapons:
Once again your aunt has brought a cauldron of potato salad with way too much eye-of-newt in it. It results in stomach cramps, vomiting, and explosive diarrhea. Also, your cousin grows a tail.
Your aunt claims she had nothing to do with the locust swarm, but it seems like a bit of a coincidence that it happens every year.
Another aunt accosts you because you told her daughter that if she ate a dragonfly she would turn into a dragon.
Note: Have you ever eaten a dragonfly? You don’t know this isn’t true.
Your uncle–the volunteer firefighter–has inadvertently set fire to himself, a pavilion, and an old-growth forest. Unfortunately your uncle was only one still standing at the end of the day.
As the big family picnic passes and dissolves into repressed memories and a series of panic filled nightmares, your only hope is that all the injuries–apart from some of the more radical skin grafts–heal before the next big family picnic.
Your family seems horrible.
I’m just saying.
Doesn’t every family’s picnics involve a swarm of locusts?
idiotpruf 