idiotpruf

The blog that prevents scurvy…as long as you eat orange slices while you read it.

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

14 Dec 2024
2 Comments

We’ll Let You Know

hanging help wanted sign

The following is an actual conversation I had with a man who was dropping off his resume at a place where I used to work.

Man: Is there someone here that I can talk to about a job?

Me: The plant manager does the hiring, but he isn’t here today.

Man: So I can’t talk to anyone today?

Me: Sorry.

Man: (visibly upset) But I made sure not to smoke crack today.

Me: That’s very conscientious of you; I’ll add a note to your resume specifying that you made sure not to smoke crack today.

Man: (pointing an accusatory finger at me) You better not be lying to me.

Me: Trust me, writing that note will be a genuine pleasure.

Man: Just make sure you do it.

As a man of truth and integrity: I wrote that note and firmly attached it to the front of that man’s resume.

He wasn’t even considered for the position; does honesty count for nothing anymore?

rejection from job

Unfortunately, we’d already filled our quota of habitual drug users.

Posted in funny, health, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
21 Dec 2023
4 Comments

The Absolutely Indispensable Guide For Gifts Not to Give

bad gift

“What the hell?”

All you want is to give the perfect gift for Christmas. The gift that will brighten a child’s face. The gift that shows thoughtfulness and caring. The type of gift that will result in moments to be cherished forever.

What a load of crap that is!

You are an insensitive oaf, but social convention dictates you must give gifts at Christmastime. What you really want is to give gifts that won’t result in icy glares from your significant other and, more crucially, gifts that won’t result in a face-stabbing.

Granted, most of your attempts at gift-giving have not resulted in a face-stabbing, but there have been enough face-stabbing occurances to preclude you from using the phrase, isolated incidents.

Who would have thought a weight loss book, a thigh master, a bottle of rum, and a set of kitchen knives were a bad combination of gifts?

Maybe the fact that it was a weight loss book for dummies that put the gift recipient over the edge.

It could have also been the rum-soaked eggnog she was belting down all day.

Since I’m practically an expert at screwing things up badly (I mean, I am shockingly good at it), I am going to aid you in what gifts not to give.

Don’t give your goth friend a bottle of skin bronzer. Her pale, nearly translucent skin is her choice. It is not a result of her inability to tan naturally. Her flesh will not burst into flames if it’s exposed to real sunlight. It’s Holy water that makes her flesh burst into flames.

Don’t give your girlfriend, and I cannot stress this too strongly, a self-help book of any kind with the phrase “for dummies” in the title.

Unless, of course, a face-stabbing is exactly what you want for Christmas.

Don’t give your friend the book: Why Men Love Bitchs. His girlfriend Amanda won’t appreciate it; what he really needs is a book about better decision-making.

Don’t give your stepmother a jar of anti-wrinkle cream and a bottle of wart remover. She will not appreciate them…regardless of how desperately they’re needed.

Don’t give your stepfather, who likes to hunt, a book of vegetarian recipes; he’s just going to use its pages to start the fire he’s going to use to roast the woodchuck he hit with his pickup truck on the way to the Christmas party.

Don’t get your vegan friend that Chia Pet. It looks entirely too much like food; eventually, he’s going to try to eat it. He’ll be rushed to the hospital, and his entire family will blame you.

Don’t give anyone you know this book.

problem child

Don’t avoid this gift because you fear recrimination. Avoid this gift because it’s just too late.

Don’t get your boss this mug; he may not have a sense of humor about it.

boss coffee cup

“Why does everybody laugh at me when I drink coffee?”

Addendum

If John Wayne Bobbitt had listened to me when I told him kitchen knives were a terrible Christmas gift for his wife Lorena, perhaps their marriage wouldn’t have become so severed.

knife

A set of kitchen knives from Bed Bath and Beyond. It was the beyond that got John Wayne Bobbitt in trouble…she cut his penis off.

Posted in funny, Humor, inspirational, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
15 May 2023
2 Comments

It’ll Be Refreshing, He Said

rafting

“Paddle faster, you idiots.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be refreshing,” my friend assured me. I had strong doubts as I stood on the shore and watched the river’s water heave and surge past. My trepidation was fueled less by the tenacity of the water and more by the fact that what I did in the water could be described less as swimming and more as a labored attempt to avoid drowning. In the pit of my stomach, I could feel that this rafting trip was about to turn ugly.

Rivers that are used for rafting are separated into five classifications. Class one rivers are basically flat, smooth waters that can be easily navigated. Class five rivers are rapidly descending, treacherous waters that require considerable experience to navigate.

Class one rivers are for tiny little girls and wimps. Class five rivers are for studly men who like to laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper. We chose a class three river; we were average men who like the laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper but only when the Grim Reaper is at a distance and busy with somebody else at the time.

The trip was going well; we had successfully navigated our way through several sets of rapids without major incident. It was then that the guide told us to bring our rafts to shore, where he informed us that this was the part of the trip where we could walk back upstream and go back through the last set of rapids.

“What,” I asked casually, attempting to mask the alarm in my voice, “do you mean without the raft?”

“That’s right, you’re just going to jump in the water and go,” the guide said with an annoying amount of confidence.

“Are you certain that’s safe?”

“Absolutely, these are very deep rapids.”

“It’s safe because deep water is harder to drown in?”

“Yes…I mean, no. When it comes to rapids, deeper is safer.” I could detect a timbre of irritation creeping into his voice.

“Okay, I understand…I’m curious, what are your thoughts concerning skydiving without the parachute?”

I could tell by the dagger-filled stare that was shooting my way that it was time to stop asking questions. This was the man whom I would depend upon to pull my semiconscious body from the water should the need arise.

One by one, like lemmings, we climbed onto the top of a small boulder and leaped into the river.

I made it through the first two mini-rapids without a problem. It was the third set of rapids where a sudden surge of water lifted my body for a moment then pulled me under the surface. Murky river water shot up my nose at approximately 2000 mph, ricocheted off the bottom of my brain, then poured into my lungs.

Not wanting to be filled with murky river water, my lungs immediately expelled the water back through my mouth and nose with considerable force. My eyes, feeling left out, began to water profusely. I was now spinning out of control, and my arms were flailing around like a crazed marionette.

This was the moment I chose to invent a new game. I call the game “Whack your face against the rock.” I invented this game approximately two seconds after the guide yelled, “Hey, don’t whack your face against the rock.”

“Are you okay?” the guide chortled, unable to mask his amusement. I signaled to him with a thumbs up…well, it was a single digit.

As I slowly spun out of the rapids and crawled to shore, gasping for air and coughing simultaneously (something that I had previously thought to be physically impossible), my friend asked, “Are you going to go again?”

“No,” I replied. “I think that I’m refreshed enough.”

river raft

The IOC is considering whack-your-face-against-the-rock for the 2020 Olympics.

Posted in fitness, funny, Humor, idiotprufs, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
03 May 2023
4 Comments

I’ll Build My Own Damn Barrel

My attempt to purchase a barrel to go over Niagra Falls in has proven fruitless, but as that old saw tells us: if you want something done right, do it yourself.

idiotpruf barrel

For most of my life, the statement above hasn’t proven to be the case. If you were to believe my junior high shop teacher, I wasn’t the most industrious person with a tool in my hand.

“A danger to myself and others” was the phrase he recklessly bandied about.

Hey! I’m not the one with only eight and a half fingers, buddy.

The half finger was his nose-picking finger; it looked like he was shoving the whole thing up there.

All I’m trying to do is construct a barrel sturdy enough to go over Niagra Falls without being smashed into bits–how hard can that be?

Not dying is my second highest priority; my top priority is that the barrel be spacious enough to contain both myself and my pet pig Napolean. 

You may think that sounds stupid, but you’re willingly reading this drivel; how smart can you be?

Napolean and I have long ago accepted the idea that we would probably die together in some weird and grizzly manner.

But we survived the tandem skydiving, so maybe we should put those fears to rest.

You only need a handful of items to build a barrel:

  • A mullet
  • Assembly jig
  • Four large iron hoops of varying size
  • 2 barrel lids cut to size
  • Handsaw
  • Sandpaper
  • Sponge
  • Winch
  • 24 to 36 aged wood staves

I am well on my way: Napolean has the mullet; he’s had it since his Billy Ray Cyrus phase. I don’t know why you would need a mullet to build a barrel, but I’m not one to question the wisdom of the internet. 

I assume an assembly jig is some type of Irish Folk Dance; I’m sure I’ll pick that up quickly.

I can meander down to the local smithy to grab some iron hoops of varying sizes.

I own a handsaw to cut the 2 barrel lids to size.

I am almost certain I have a piece of sandpaper somewhere.

I have a SpongeBob SquarePants bath sponge.

I can borrow my neighbor’s winch.

Then all I need is 24 to 36 aged wood staves; piece of cake.

Correction: apparently, you need a mallet to construct a barrel, not a mullet. That does make more sense, although Napolean was a little disappointed.

I’ve run into a few additional problems.

I’m told an assembly jig is not an Irish Folk Dance, and I am terrible at modern interpretive dance.

Also, it seems the local smithy closed his shop a few years ago, give or take a century.

And I lied about the handsaw; I don’t have one of those; I’m not some master carpenter.

Napolean has refused to use my Spongebob Squarepants bath sponge; he thinks it’s disgusting. It’s a pretty haughty attitude coming from someone who rolls around in the mud. Although, that sponge has been in some intimate places.

Napolean has also pointed out that what I have is not a piece of sandpaper but some sand and a piece of paper. It was an easy mistake to make.

Borrowing the winch from my neighbor might be more complex; he’s installed security cameras since that time I borrowed his riding mower and inadvertently drove it into the lake.

I also have to look up the word stave; seriously, what the hell is a stave?

I fear I am a bit further from the completion of my project than I hoped.

But Napolean and I will continue to strive forward.

More updates to come.

Posted in funny, Humor, lists and tagged , , , , , , ,
19 Mar 2023
5 Comments

Testicles or Lack Thereof

surprised cat

His name was Bill, and I had just met him five minutes previously. It was my first day on the job, and I was helping him.

We worked silently for a few minutes before he turned to me and said with stunning nonchalance, “Yeah. I’ve only got one testicle.”

I tried not to gape stupidly. I failed.

I prefer to know someone for at least one full day before I work my testicles into a conversation. Bill was obviously of a different mind.

He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to say, “great, tell me more about your testicles, or lack thereof. I’m keen to hear.”

But I continued to gape stupidly, searching my mind for an appropriate response.

My mind failed me spectacularly; I replied by saying, “I have two of them?”

And yes, I said it as a question. I’m still trying to understand why I felt confused.

Perhaps I simply didn’t want to appear as though I was bragging. If I had confidently said, “I have two testicles–the proper amount,” that would have seemed grandiose.

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

 I felt like an idiot. 

There was that inevitable awkward silence that occurs when two men discuss their testicles for the first time.

Undeterred by my idiocy, he launched into the story, “I was out in my garage having a few beers when I thought to myself: this would be a good time to try out my new nail gun.”

The next several minutes were horrifying. I will spare you details because they involve a man piercing his testicle with a nail.

I did learn some things from Bill:

  • Shockingly, alcohol and power tools don’t mix.
  • Nail guns are designed to drive a nail through wood or plaster. The fact that a nail gun will readily penetrate a layer of denim and your scrotum just goes without saying.
  • A nail in your testicle really hurts.
  • A nail in your testicle will bleed a lot.
  • It’s challenging to drive yourself to the hospital with a nail in your testicle.
  • It’s difficult to walk with a nail in your testicle.
  • It’s even hard to breathe with a nail in your testicle.
  • Basically, it’s a struggle to do anything with a nail in your testicle except whimpering; whimpering is practically a requirement when you have a nail in your testicle.
  • Did I mention that it hurts?
  • There was never a more appropriate use of the phrase: unfortunate ricochet.

I can write one thing with relative certitude: it was not a good time for Bill to try out his new nail gun.

I spent the remainder of the day with one overriding thought: please don’t offer to show me a scar.

Posted in funny, health, Humor, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , ,
22 Feb 2023
2 Comments

Seriously, I Don’t Want to Dance

the office dancing

Do you really want David Brent as a role model?

Why is this world polluted with people who are determined to make me dance? Loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative overlords of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable. People who won’t take no for an answer. People who believe they better grasp what’s in my brain than I do.

What I say: I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: I pretend I don’t want to dance, but secretly, it’s my deepest yearning. If not for debilitating fear and self-loathing, I’d be out on the dance floor right now, living the dream.

What I say: seriously, I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: if only there were some loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative overlord of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable, to goad and badger me into doing what I’ve secretly always wanted to do anyway.

What I say: get away from me, you drooling half-wit.

What they hear: grab my arm like a slack-jawed oaf and physically drag me onto the dance floor.

I am not responsible for anything that happens from that moment forward. I am confident the person who coined the phrase “justifiable homicide” was just some poor fellow who earnestly didn’t want to dance.

Note: I’m sure when his jaw is no longer wired shut, the person described in the scenario above will apologize to me.

Let’s make one thing clear: just because you like a certain thing, it doesn’t follow that every other human should also like that thing. Loads of different people like loads of different things.

Jeffrey Dahmer quite enjoyed killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in his freezer. I can write with a relative degree of certainty; most human beings wouldn’t much care for that.

I have never once thought to myself: killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in my freezer, seems like a horrific and frankly evil thing to do…but Jeffrey Dahmer thought it was a lovely thing to do. Perhaps I’m looking at this all backward. I’ve got plenty of room in my freezer, and there are several acquaintances in my sphere of influence I could readily live without (mostly the few who try to make me dance).

If only the local learning annex offered a course on beginner cannibalism. It’s all scrapbooking this and scrapbooking that, down at that place.

And I don’t need to be the center of attention to enjoy myself–in fact, it’s preferable not to be.

Just because I’m not standing on a chair, singing Love Shack at the top of my lungs, juggling shot glasses while I wildly thrust my hips into the air in a suggestive manner, doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself.

I don’t see life through the same self-absorbed prism as you.

You imagine I’m thinking: if only I could summon the courage, that would be me on that chair.

When I’m really thinking: if only I could summon the courage, I would kick that chair from under that jackass’s feet. That would make me smile.

Also, don’t tell me to smile.

I smile plenty.

I smile when it’s appropriate.

I smile when I’m happy or when something good happens.

I smile when a jackass falls from his chair and shot glasses cascade across his face.

Note: sometimes, I summon the courage.

People who go around smiling for no apparent reason are mental. I am not mental (fingers crossed).

crazy smile

This is how you appear to the rest of the world.

Being a naturally quiet person or an introvert is not a problem that needs to be fixed–just leave me be.

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
01 Feb 2023
2 Comments

A Bit of Truth About Groundhog Day

idiotprufs groundhog day punxsutawny phil

Phil and his throng of adoring fans.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day is a celebration when thousands of people gather in a small town in rural Pennsylvania to applaud a groundhog as a celebrity and a prognosticator. They wait with bated breath for that groundhog to emerge from his hole and to notice or not notice his own shadow. It is a day of great pomp and circumstance.

The Other 364 days of the year
The other 364 days of the year, a groundhog is a giant rodent that’s considered a pest, and poking its head from a hole would cause the same rural Pennsylvanians to reach for their 12-gauge.

groundhog phil

“Hey, where did the party go?”

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
27 Jan 2023

Love Hurts, but Not as Much as a Stab Wound

love hurts

I felt it was time to re-post these beautiful and poignant words.

I wrote this during a period of deep personal healing…but mostly, I was drunk.

Posted in funny, Humor, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
24 Dec 2022
4 Comments

Thank You Crazy Lady for Giving Us a Classic

christmas story

It was a chance encounter with a woman wearing a button that read: DISARM THE TOY INDUSTRY, in angry block red letters.

It’s all a Government plot to prepare the Innocent for evil, Godless War!  I know what they’re up to! Our committee is on to them, and we intend to expose this decadent Capitalistic evil!

She told him as she handed him a smudged pamphlet denouncing the U.S. as a citadel of warmongers, profit-greedy despoilers of the young and promoters of worldwide Capitalistic decadence, all through plastic popguns and Sears Roebuck fatigue suits for tots.

It was this encounter that led Jean Shepperd to recount his youthful almost maniacal desire for a Red-Ryder carbine-action range-model BB gun, and the lengths he went one Christmas in efforts to obtain one.

He then wrote the autobiographical essay, Duel in the Snow, or Red Ryder Nails the Cleveland Street Kid, which became the basis for A Christmas Story.

So thank you crazy lady for helping give us a classic.

Have a Merry Christmas, I triple-dog-dare you.triple dog dare

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
13 Dec 2022
2 Comments

You’ve Got Nothing on Me, Rudolph

reindeeer with glowing antlers

“You’ve got nothing on me, Rudolph.”

In what is being hailed as the technological breakthrough of the century, a group of Finnish scientists have created a new breed of radioactive reindeer.

The Finnish are often referred to as the technological juggernauts of the world. 

“We are the technological juggernauts of the world,” one of the leading Finnish researchers, Johannes Korhonen, brashly stated at a recent press conference.

It seems the Finnish have developed a new breed of radioactive reindeer they claim will revolutionize the world.

The following is an interview with Dr. Korhonen.

Interviewer:  Tell us, why radioactive reindeer?

Dr. Korhonen: Frankly, we just got sick of inducing cancer in lab rats, I mean, we’ve absolutely done that to death. So, we decided to move on to something bigger.

Interviewer: That’s a pretty big jump from lab rats to reindeer.

Dr. Korhonen: It is. At first, we tried it with badgers, but those things are freaking crazy. A bunch of them got loose, knocked over one of the researchers, chewed his ears off, and ran away with them.

Interviewer: Wow.

Dr. Korhonen: Then they came back and taunted him.

Interviewer: That’s horrible.

Dr. Korhonen: Indeed. They’d already taken his ears–there was no need to say those horrible things about his mother.

Interviewer: The badgers can talk?

Dr. Korhonen: Of course not.

Interviewer: Then how did you know they were saying things about his mother?

Dr. Korhonen: It was in their smug body language.

Interviewer: Okay? I’m just curious, why do you consider this to be an advancement that will revolutionize the world?

Dr. Korhonen: Are you serious? We have practically developed a cure for not being radioactive.

Interviewer: Is not being radioactive a big problem?

Dr. Korhonen: Not anymore. Did you know that due to their glowing antlers, the incidents of reindeer being struck by motorists, have greatly decreased over the past year?

Interviewer: But what about the increase in incidents of Finnish motorists screaming, “what the hell is that?” and careening off the road?

Dr. Korhonen: One problem at a time. You know, it was the Finnish that invented Angry Birds.

Interviewer: I know, it was a very popular game.

Dr. Korhonen: Not the game. We have genetically altered flocks of ordinary birds and made them very aggressive and angry; they’ll crap on you just for the fun of it and then they’ll peck your eyes out.

Interviewer: And how could that possibly be useful?

Dr. Korhonen: Did I mention their crap is radioactive?

Interviewer: I‘m starting to think you’re just nuts.

Dr. Korhonen: When you’re the technological juggernauts of the world you don’t have to explain yourselves to dullard interviewers such as yourself.

The interview then ended abruptly when a pack of frenzied badgers poured into the room and attacked Dr. Korhonen. After several moments of wild chittering and gnashing of teeth, the badgers swarmed out of the room, leaving Dr. Korhonen in a bloody earless heap. 

Moments later, they returned to room and mocked him. At least it seemed that way from their smug body language.

 

hans gruber idiotprufs

Dr. Johannes Korhonen, he looks vaguely like that guy from Die Hard.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , ,

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