idiotpruf

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

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

21 Apr 2016
9 Comments

Oh the Injustice

no-justice3Oh I am just so mad.

I haven’t been this upset since those heartless bastards at “The Learning Channel” canceled Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

(How am I supposed to learn about exploitative child beauty pageants, chalk miners, or dating registered sex offenders, now?)

I’m so rankled I could punch a mime in the face.

What is it that has me in such a state?

Injustice, that’s what has me going all Bruce Banner.

(I almost went all Bruce Forsyth, but I don’t think I could have pulled that off.)

bruce forsyth britain

Sir Bruce Forsyth. You don’t want to make him mad. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.

It seems the will of the people is going to be disregarded.

The Natural Environment Research Council launched a drive to find public suggestions for the name of their soon-to-be-built £200m research vessel.

They asked the people to speak, and the people spoke loudly. So rabid were the voters, the NERC website crashed under the weight of pure ship-nomenclature enthusiasm.

And what name was it that had the public so energized?

The RSS Boaty McBoatface

I know! Isn’t that awesome?

injustice

A research vessel tragically not named Boaty McBoatface.

Boaty McBoatface received 10 times more votes than the more serious second favorite, Henry Worsley, named for the British explorer who died in January near the end of his attempt to become the first person to cross the Antarctic unaided.

(Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.)

But wait. It seems the powers that be aren’t thrilled by the choice. They feel the choice is silly and not at all suitable for something as serious as a research vessel. So, they’re going to ignore the will of the people and go with a name of their choosing. A name they feel is less ridiculous, more suitable.

I want the people of Britain to understand that here in the United States, we feel your pain. You may be losing Boaty McBoatface, but we’ve lost Honey Boo Boo.

Heartless bastards.

Addendum

The RSS Honey Boo Boo…I like it.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
09 Apr 2016
70 Comments

How to Make Your Wife’s Feet Stink Like Cheese

Are your wife's feet repulsively minty fresh? Don't worry, it can be fixed.

Are your wife’s feet repulsively minty fresh? Don’t worry, it can be fixed.

It’s happened again: yet another poor soul has come to this blog in search of answers to questions that I don’t readily have.

Questions that are disturbing.

Questions that aren’t the type asked in polite company.

Questions reserved for the darkened corners of dimly lit rooms in seedy establishments on the fringes of society, and sometimes on the Joy Behar Show.

It started when this search engine term led some poor wretch to my blog:

why does myI did my best to answer that question with the post: You Found What on Your What?

Note: Again, I am just a little unsettled that the search term “sexy man riding a unicorn images” leads people to this blog, and very unsettled by who those people might be.

So now this crops up on the list of search engine terms on my stats page.

wife's feetNote: I am irrationally proud of the fact the search term “monkey stink” leads people to this blog. 

I’m going to do my best to aide this person, I am nothing if not filled with compassion.

First, I have a few questions of my own:

  1. Why?
  2. Seriously, why?
  3. Is this some bizarre fetish of which I am unaware? If it is, I choose to remain unaware.
  4. What type of cheese are you looking for? A soft cheese like Brie, or hard cheese like Asiago?
  5. Does your wife even want her feet to stink like cheese?
  6. Do your feet stink like cheese?
  7. Are you just trying to cover-up the fact that your feet stink like cheese by making your wife’s feet stink like cheese?
  8. Are you really that selfish?
  9. Are you the type of person who constantly puts himself ahead of others?
  10. Are you the type of person who gets in the express lane at the supermarket with a cart full of groceries, and then tries to claim that you have less than 12 items.
  11. Do you then try to pay for your cart full of groceries with a check, even though you haven’t any I.D. with you.
  12. Do you then fumble around dumbly for cash–now that you’ve ground the express lane to a torturous halt–to find that you have only a two-dollar bill and some Canadian half-pennies?
  13. Where the hell did you get Canadian half-pennies?
  14. Are you that moron who drives down the road with your seat-belt hanging out the door, making sparks on the road?
  15. Maybe the real problem with your wife is that you don’t satisfy her sexually. Did you ever consider that?
  16. Maybe what your wife needs is a good divorce lawyer.
  17. I’ll bet you like mimes don’t you?
  18. How can you like mimes, they are so irritating?
  19. When they do that fake crying thing, I just want to punch them in the face.
  20. What kind of total jackass likes mimes, and wants his wife’s feet to stink like cheese, as he screws up the express lane and drives like an idiot?
  21. Moron.

Anyway, try rubbing your wife’s feet with Limburger cheese. The bacterium used in the fermentation process of Limburger cheese (Brevibacterium linens) is the same bacterium that causes foot odor.

I hope this was helpful…jerk.

I hope this turns you on...weirdo. (image source: wpclipart.com.)

I hope this does it for you…weirdo.
(image source: wpclipart.com.)

Posted in funny, health, Humor, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2015
40 Comments

So I’ve Ruffled Some Feathers

 

mad baby

“My feathers have been sufficiently ruffled.”

It seems I’ve ruffled some feathers.

Some big, fat, whiny, bitchy, crybaby feathers.

It’s not that this blog hasn’t generated negative reactions in the past. It has and that disapproval has been manifest in many forms:

  • Through the WordPress comments function.
  • By email.
  • Unfriending me on Facebook.
  • Friending me on Facebook for the sole purpose of unfriending me.
  • Tweeting about me with the hashtag: jackass.
  • Sniper fire.
  • I’ve been accosted by mimes. (They don’t say much, but their gesticulated scorn is withering.)
  • Women flee at the sight of me. (To be frank, this was happening long before I started this blog.)
  • Small children bite me with their sharp little adolescent teeth.
  • A vicious diatribe was nailed to my front door, written in blood. (This one surprised me; Grandma needs all the blood she has.)
  • Random baboon attacks.
  • Skywriting.
  • Strategically placed billboards with shockingly filthy messages.
  • The song “You Suck” is constantly being dedicated to me on the radio.
  • Vitriolic letters to the editor of The Bolivian Free Press. (The Bolivian Free Press is an odd name for a newspaper in a country where the primary language isn’t English. It’s almost as though I made it up.)
  • Llamas spit on me, then act like it was an accident.
  • Lorenzo Lamas spits on me, then acts like it was an accident.
  • I get junk mail addressed to: That Ass Who Writes The Blog.
  • The letters in my alphabet soup randomly form death threats.
  • I am frequently presented with that time honored and always effective middle finger.

But it was the following passage from a recent post, Home is Where the Heart is…and a Bit of Predator, in which I detailed reasons my hometown is awesome, that has caused the cheese to slide off the crackers of a few people:

Reason #4: my aunts and uncles

If modern cinema and television have taught us anything through mega-hits such as Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Walking Dead, it’s that witches, vampires, werewolves, and various incarnations of the undead, are quite popular in current culture.

The town of Westfield, NY is polluted with my aunts and uncles.

Note: you get what I’m implying.

It has been suggested that this passage is defamatory, and this blog is guilty of slander.

That is ridiculous–defamation in written form is clearly libel.

Note: seriously, if you don’t know the difference between slander and libel, you shouldn’t run around all willy-nilly accusing anyone of either.

Nevertheless, a few points of clarification.

None of my aunts or uncles are werewolves. Sure their behavior is a tad monstrous when the moon is full, but it’s monstrous during all phases of the moon. They’re not any better when the sun is up…I guess my point is it’s pretty much a perpetual state.

None of my aunts or uncles are vampires; they’re bloodsuckers of an entirely different ilk.

None of my aunts or uncles are members of the undead. The stench of rotting flesh that follows when they arrive, and their seeming inability to communicate in even monosyllabic fashion, are probably just coincidences.

Witches? Granted, I’m not referring to the type of stereotypical green-skinned, broom-traversing witches such the wicked witches from the Wizard of Oz.  However…

Note: if only I could dispatch them with a bucket of water.

Remember this one important thing: it isn’t libel if it’s true.

Addendum

Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a troop of flying monkeys to do your bidding?

flying monkey

A flying monkey toting Toto. (Not the rock group, he’d need a bigger basket.)

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
05 Jun 2015
2 Comments

Deflate-gate and the presentation of the winning game ball!

dali deflategate

Following the success of Spending Quality Time With Known Felons in a Dimly Lit Bar (less death threats than usual) here is another guess post from Another Idiot. Enjoy.

For as long as I can remember, it has been customary in the NFL to present the game ball to the team member that was most responsible for the win. Football is an American tradition, the most popular sport, and one of my favorite pass-times. Every year football fans yearn for midsummer after waiting several months during the off season in anticipation of a winning season for their favorite team, and a possible playoff berth. For most of us we end up disappointed in our favorite team’s inability to continue to the end of the season, and win a Super Bowl. It seems to reason that teams will have ups and downs, good years and bad, streaks of fortune and misfortune.
However, some teams seem to always be in the hunt, and never have an off-season no matter what their personnel situation is. They are always in the playoffs, and always have a shot at a Lombardi trophy. If you haven’t guessed it by now; I’m talking about the New England Patriots.
Attention: If you are a New England Patriot’s fan, move forward with extreme caution! You may want to regress back to the home page. Further entry into this document may cause extreme feelings; especially if you don’t have a sense of humor. You may not be ready to witness what the following passage has to offer. The below listed side effects may occur if you continue to peruse this document. (Cheesy disclaimers work for medication, why not a blog?)

Conditions caused by this passage that may be harmful to Patriot fans:

  • Bulging veins.
  • Double vision.
  • Blurred vision
  • Clenching of fists.
  • fisticuffs.
  • Cufflink wearing.
  • Heavy drinking.
  • Heavy lifting.
  • Heavy smoking.
  • Heavy thinking, (well, probably not).
  • Binge eating.
  • Binge drinking.
  • Excess binging.
  • Moderate binging.
  • Redundancy.
  • Oxymoron.
  • And many other ill effects that could alter your personality, and life styles too numerous to list.

So if you are a New England Patriot’s fan, you have been warned. It’s still not too late to turn back.
As we cheer for our teams, we take pride in their accomplishments. There is a certain amount of ethics and morals that go into the standards in which the game is played. We don’t tolerate cheating, and a certain amount of disdain is fostered towards those athletes who decide that winning took precedence over ethics of the game.

I’m talking about the New England Patriot’s deflate-gate and spy gate. The patriots have been caught red handed, cheating; and twice, (in my humble opinion), they have gotten off easy. The first incident was the “Spy Gate” of 2007 where the Patriots were videotaping other teams signal calling during the game. Coach Belichick was fined $500,000 the maximum, the team fined $250,000, and the loss of their first draft choice. It was discovered that the team had used this practice since 2000. The second was Tom Brady being suspended for four games for violating the rule of 12.5 to 13.5 PSI air pressure in the game balls in 2014. What do both these incidents have in common? Both years the Patriots were playing in a Super Bowl, and both years they were caught cheating.

Other teams who cheated and were given admonishment from the NFL:
-Mike Tomlin, Pittsburgh’s head coach, stepped on field to disrupt play, fined $100,000. He apologized and put it behind him.
-Ray Farmer, Cleveland’s GM fined $250,000 and suspended four games for texting his coach during a game.
-New Orleans Saints bounty gate, Head coach suspended one year, defensive coordinator suspended indefinitely, GM suspended eight games, assistant head coach suspended six games, Vilma suspended 2012 season, Anthony Hargrove suspended eight games, Will Smith suspended four games, and Scott Fujita three game suspension, $500,000 fine and loss of 2nd round draft picks in 2012 and 2013 seasons, (their first round pick was traded away to NE).
-Falcons fined $350,000 for pumping noise into the stadium, and lost 5th round draft in 2016.
-Penn State: too much to list, (they never cheated; they had a sick individual on their college coaching staff who caused the entire system to suffer for years). You know the story.

List of possible admonishments for the New England Patriots for Deflate-gate:
Real list: Suspend Tom Brady for 1 Year

idiotprufs’ list: Force Brady to dress as a mime and stay in character
(Four games isn’t enough) for 1 year during the 2016 football season.

Real list: Suspend Belichick indefinitely

idiotprufs’ list: Force Belichick to dress as a mime and stay in
character indefinitely.

Real list: Fire the equipment managers.

idiotprufs’ list: Promote the equipment managers to GM, and allow
them unconditional access to the equipment room.

Real list: Forfeit playoff availability for one year.

idiotprufs’ list: NFL forfeit the New England Patriots for one year.

Real list: Robert Kraft forced to sell team.

idiotprufs’ list: New England is forced to sell Girl Scout cookies, (they
are really good cookies, especially PB).

bill-belichick-deflategate-meme

In light of “SPY GATE”, the length of time the Patriots’ conducted it and got away with it; it is perplexing to me that they aren’t suspected of continuing the practice to this day. After seeing them come from behind on numerous occasions after half-time, it is fishy that they miraculously seem to know what the other team is going to do, and their opponents seem to have no answer to this conundrum. The Buffalo Bills beat the Patriots in 2011, 34-31 after leading at the half 21-0. The Bills QB claimed that they changed their signal calling after the half to confuse New England; it worked. The Patriots looked confused, as if they expected the plays to be totally different. I’m surprised other teams haven’t adopted this practice.
Things teams could do to beat the New England Patriots
1) Over-inflate the game balls.
2) Learn New England’s signal calls and change strategy at the half.
3) Change their signals after the half to the opposite of what they were in the first half.
4) Pay the refs more than New England.
5) Sell the Patriots Ex-lax laced Girl Scout cookies; (this is extremely cruel, as no one should mess with Girl Scout cookies, especially the peanut butter).
6) Pay a bounty to the defense.
7) Pump noise into the stadium.
8) Text your coach during the game. (I’m not sure how this would work, but it must somehow; it’s illegal. Anyway, millions of teenagers couldn’t be wrong).
9) Pretend the refs are mimes and ignore them. Their outfits are sort of similar.
10) Step near the field of play and jump back at the last second; it works every time.

So in closing, I think the game ball from the New England Super Bowl win should be presented to the equipment manager’s Jim McNally and John Jastranski. The Colts probably wouldn’t have won that game, it was too one sided. However, the Ravens lost 35-31 in the January weather in New England; deflated balls and knowing the other team’s plays after the half may have been enough to turn the tide of the game in New England’s favor.patriots super bowl ring

Posted in funny, Humor, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
30 Jan 2015
9 Comments

Top Ten Other Ways the New England Patriots Cheat

football underinflated

Patriots’ game ball, inflated slightly more than Tom Brady likes it.

#10

Robert Kraft offers a lifetime supply of razors to officials who ‘look the other way’ when they cover the Seahawks’ game balls with super slippery stuff.

#9

Rob Gronkowski is actually a cyborg sent back from the future to kill Sarah Conner.

#8

Tom Brady wears a piece; he’s actually bald a cue ball.

#7

They lace other team’s Gatorade with Viagra.

#6

The New England Patriots’ kicker’s balls are coated with flubber.

#5

Legarrette Blount never passes the joint to the other team.

(Technically this isn’t cheating, but it certainly isn’t polite.)

#4

Snipers.

#3

Bill Belichick had a witch doctor put an ‘interception’ curse on Eli Manning, to keep him out of the Super Bowl.

(It’s working.)

#2

They steal the other team’s playbook, and replace the plays with Venn Diagrams about ninjas.

#1

Tom Brady illegally deflates his game balls; he artificially inflates his jock strap.

addendum

When I said the New England Patriots’ kicker’s balls are coated with flubber, I did mean his testicles.

ninja irs When Russell Wilson drops back to pass, he’ll be looking for the zombie.

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, lists, top ten list and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
15 Dec 2014
17 Comments

Spending Quality Time With Known Felons in a Seedy Dimly Lit Bar

felonsJust another small glimpse into my life. A special guest post written by someone who will refer to himself as Another Idiot (to many people it’s preferable to refer to themselves as idiots, than admit they know me). It does involve me and I will occasionally interject. Enjoy.

Picture if you will a seedy dimly lit bar, known for serving ice cold beer to bikers, farmers or bankers.

An eclectic crowd can be found at this fine establishment, enjoying all the ambiance of hunting gear, 1990s football paraphernalia, and NASCAR.

On any particular Saturday night, you could imagine the local trailer parks, backwoods cabins and downtown ghettos, had been abandoned for the solace of this drunkard’s utopia. It boasts the finest pickled eggs, and a variety of snacks that can conquer the most severe case of the munchies.

Idiotprufs’ note: if winning the battle over munchies results in losing the war against Salmonella, so be it.

Yes, this is my kind of bar.

On this night the bar was patronized by a handful of people. Two regulars sat at the far end of the bar. Myself and Idiotprufs sat at the other end of the bar, farthest away from the other patrons, closest to the ice-cold beer taps.

Three people entered the backdoor and proceeded to encroach upon the territory occupied by Idiotprufs and myself. With so much space in the bar, why would someone sit close? (Except to be close to the ice-cold beer tap, which always a good strategy.)

Would such an intrusion be justified?

The one newcomer sat next to me, the other was preoccupied with his goth looking girlfriend.

Idiotprufs’ notes: to be fair, she may have been goth, she may have been the living dead; it was a dimly lit bar.

The following conversation may or may not have happened:

Idiotprufs: my Uncle Pedro’s a decent guy.

(The names have been changed to protect the innocent, or the not so innocent, as Uncle Pedro is a known felon.)

Another Idiot: how can he be a decent guy; he’s a known felon?

Newcomer (jerking his head around): I’m a felon!

Another Idiot: that’s nice.

Idiotprufs: you seem very proud.

(From this point forward Newcomer will be addressed as Felon. It is proper etiquette, when in seedy dimly lit bars, to refer to known felons as Felon.)

Felon: I am proud!

(It was late, and all parties had been consuming alcohol, which is probably what spurred the string of inappropriate questions to follow.)

Another Idiot: what did you do?

(Awkward silence encompassed the next several moments. Without a response, Another Idiot decides to ask the most inappropriate question for the circumstance.)

Another Idiot: are you a sex offender?

Felon: no, I’m not a sex offender! I can get laid any time.

Idiotprufs: does that include your time in prison?

(The Felon glared at Idiotprufs with a dumb look on his face before averting all of his attention back to Another Idiot.)

Idiotprufs’ note: as it turned out, the dumb look on his face was just his face.

Felon: I can get girls any time. I bet I’ve had more girls than you ever have.

Another Idiot: you might be right.

Idiotprufs: just to clarify: you’ve had women or girls? Because one’s just creepy while the other is a felony.

Felon: I don’t even have to pay for it!

Another Idiot (looking at Idiotprufs): sex offender?

Idiotprufs (nodding in agreement): sex offender.

Felon: I’m not a sex offender; I was in for assault.

Another Idiot: so that’s his story.

Idiotrufs: I’m still wondering about the whole sex in prison thing.

Felon: I like to beat people up for fun. I could kick your ass! You want to fight?

Another Idiot: I’ll pass.

Felon: I love fighting, beating people up, kicking their ass because they’ve been disrespectful to me.

ugly face

An artist rendition of the Felon.

Another Idiot: I’m just drinking beer; you’re the ass who barged into my conversation.

Felon: Do you want to fight about it?

Another Idiot: so you’re proud of assaulting people?

Idiotprufs: your entire family must be very proud.

Felon (very agitated): we could fight right here!

It was at this point the bartender could sense the situation spiraling, and injected himself into the conversation. The situation was diffused after the bartender sternly whispered a few words to the Felon. The Felon backed off and relaxed a bit. He ignored us after that, apart from the occasional angry glare. The remainder of the night was uneventful.

Final Idiotprufs’ note: we may never know what the bartender said, but I’m willing to bet it was this: you idiot, you’ve just broken the first rule of Fight Club.

fight club

I thought he looked familiar.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
06 Dec 2014
41 Comments

Help Me Pick My Next Post Topic

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. and I are kindred spirits.

Several months ago I was having a dream.

In this dream my uncle was trying to chop my face off with an ax. He was chasing me through the woods and he seemed very determined in his efforts. He seemed to be enjoying himself a great deal. He was reminiscent of Jack Torrance from The Shining, but much more disheveled and maniacal. As ax wielding maniacs go–he was good at it.

Why would my uncle be chasing me through the woods with an ax? He has issues…and an ax.

Note: if my uncle were to chase me through the woods with an ax, it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done to me. He’s a miserable backstabbing rat-bastard of a human being, and I’m sugar-coating it.

Jack Nicholson

Here’s Miserable Backstabbing Rat-Bastard.

Anyway, I awoke from the dream and had a brilliant idea for a blog post, it would be the single funniest blog post ever written.

I quickly jotted the idea down, lest I should forget, and went back to sleep.

The next morning I looked at what I had written: Bad Idea Fireman.

I had absolutely no clue what it meant. I had absolutely no clue what I was thinking when I wrote it down. I had nothing.

Was it a bad idea to become a fireman?

Was it a bad idea a fireman had?

Were firemen a bad idea in general? That seems unlikely unless I was alluding to the firemen in Ray Bradbury’s dystopic tale, Fahrenheit 451. A great book, but not really full of laughs.

It’ll come to me I thought.

It didn’t.

It still hasn’t months later, and I had forgotten about it until I stumbled upon it today in my drafts section.

Then I had a thought (it happens): my drafts section has become cluttered with half-written posts and neglected ideas; it’s time to change that.

Here’s a short list of some of the unfinished posts:

Why do Hillbillies Have Weird Faces?

This search term popped up on my stats page. It’s a compelling questioned that deserves an answer.

Why Sea-Monkeys are Better Than Your Cousins.

I’m not certain why this one wasn’t finished, it practically writes itself.

Don’t Say it to Your Boss.

I found a list of things not to say to your boss at a work relations website. The list was woefully inadequate; I could immediately think of a half dozen ill-advised things I’ve said to bosses, that weren’t on the list.

Where is Bigfoot and Why is He so Damned Hard to Find?

Answering this question would wipe out half of the programming on Animal Planet.

Bad Idea Fireman.

Your guess is as good as mine.

Vote for the post you want to see, or leave a comment, or do both.

Posted in funny, Humor, polls and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
03 Jun 2014
27 Comments

Fear Loathing and Rejection

fear loathing and sadnessA few weeks ago Becky of Becky Says Things asked her readers for blogging inspiration.

Since I’m constantly inspiring others to do things: sob uncontrollably, flee into the wilderness, punch a mime in the face, file restraining orders, stock up on pepper spray, change their names and disappear into the Bolivian mountains, eat green crayons and evaluate the futility of their lives, just to name a few; I decided to give it a go.

After an enormous amount of deep thought, at least five or six seconds worth, I came up with a topic that I thought to be pure blogging gold: bees and calligraphy.

I sat back and confidently waited for her post about bees and calligraphy and the awards and accolades that were certain to follow.

It never came. I was passed over in favor of music.

Despair.

As the days passed my sorrow deepened. The colors of life that had once been bright and vibrant now seemed dull and gray. I no longer enjoyed plays, movies or books. I especially couldn’t stand plays or movies based on books. (Except for The Shining, Jack Nicholson is an absolute treasure.)

Music was dead to me. (Except for Weird Al Yankovic, he is delightful.)

Food tasted like cardboard. Cardboard tasted like tapioca. Tapioca tasted like green crayons and green crayons tasted like forest green crayons. Tofu was oddly unchanged.

Even the one thing in the world that I loved more than anything, reruns of The Jersey Shore, couldn’t cheer me up. As I watched their fake tans, greased up hair and increasing levels if stupidity, I knew it was hysterical, but I just couldn’t laugh.

I found myself sitting in a darkened room, chugging Mad Dog 20/20 straight from the bottle, and writing really bad poetry about giraffes and other even-toed ungulates.

As I sat stewing in a combination of fear and loathing and other emotions that remind you of Hunter S. Thompson books, I had an epiphany. (Ooh, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is another movie based on a book, Johnny Depp is an absolute treasure and he’s delightful.)

The epiphany? I could write a post about bees and calligraphy.

I know what you’re thinking: there are so many reasons my post about bees and calligraphy wouldn’t be as entertaining as a post about bees and calligraphy written by Becky.

  1. Her blog is more popular than mine.
  2. She’s a better writer.
  3. I don’t have a suave and debonair spokesman like Stickman.
  4. When people tell her that her blog is funny, their voices aren’t dripping with sarcasm.
  5. She probably smells better than I do.
  6. She at least doesn’t smell like burnt toast.
  7. Why do I smell like burnt toast, that’s just weird.
  8. She’s never eaten crayons.
  9. She’s never fought a mime (I’m guessing.).
  10. She’s never been pepper sprayed.
  11. She’s never been pepper sprayed by a mime.
  12. She doesn’t fill her blog posts with tedious lists.

Regardless, the world needs bees and calligraphy, and I will give the world what it needs.

Next post: Bees and Calligraphy.

weird al

He is an absolute delight.

 

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , ,
03 Feb 2014
10 Comments

Some Decisions are Poor

idiotprufs bad tattoo

Does this image even need a snarky caption?

Not since Adolph Hitler’s “Victory In Russia” tattoo has there been a worse decision.

Note: Napoleon had his tattoo removed while he was on Elba.

Posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
30 Jan 2014
17 Comments

Ice Station Amarillo

idiotprufs polar bar larry shampoe

Come on in, it’s perfect.

 

I awoke with the sound of Lance punching buttons on the hotel phone. Lance had several conversations with hotel staff that morning, they progressed like this:

First Call: Hello, this is room 222. We don’t have any hot water…you say you’re working on it…okay. Thank you.

Ten Minutes Later

Second Call: Yeah. Room 222 still doesn’t have any hot water…it’s been running for ten minutes now…okay, I’ll give it five more minutes. Bye.

Five Minutes Later Exactly

  Third Call: There’s still no hot water, and if I’m not mistaken it’s actually getting colder…(grudgingly) I’ll give it a few more minutes.

A Few Minutes Later

Fourth Call: What the hell? Is there going to be hot water or not?…Are you serious?…What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me that in first place?

“Guess what,” Lance said as jammed the phone receiver back into its place.

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and go with: there’s no hot water,” I replied.

“The hot water pipes froze and burst, and they’re still waiting on the plumber to get here.”

“What the hell, why didn’t they just tell you that in the first place?”

“I know!”

So Lance, Matt, and myself all took pseudo-showers.

A pseudo-shower consists of standing well out of the stream of water, lathering yourself up and rinsing yourself off with a washcloth that you repeatedly shove into the stream of water.

Note: If water freezes at 32.0 degrees Fahrenheit, this water was 32.1 degrees Fahrenheit.

idiotprufs larry shower record cold

That’s about right.

The process was proceeding with minimal discomfort until I attempted to wash my hair.  My hair lathered up nicely, but when I tried to rinse it out, it just seemed to lather more. I rinsed out the washcloth, wet it down and tried again. It lathered more. What kind of shampoo was this? It’s like those trick birthday candles that you can’t blow out.

Note: You blow them out–they relight. You blow them out–they relight.  You blow them out–they relight. You blow them out–they relight. You smash the cake into a cousin’s face. Small children weep and your grandmother curses you out. How is that fun?

I came to the stark realization that I needed to stick my head directly into the stream. I took a deep breath, shoved my head under the water and began to scrub the shampoo out as quickly as I could.

At first it seemed to lather up even more. Suds were coming out my hair like clowns out of a Volkswagen. A wave of water washed down my back, it was really freaking cold. After about ten seconds of furious rinsing, the lather was completely out of my hair.

I stepped back, gasping for air, my body shuddering from the cold.

“Holy crap,” I exclaimed, “my testicles are completely inside my body.”idiotprufs george seinfeld larry shampoe

Then it was Al’s turn.

He stepped out of the bathroom looking pale and shivering. He looked like a rat that was drowned, revived, beaten and drowned again.

Note: Al always looked that way, but this was even more so.

“That’s worst shower I’ve even taken,” Al said.

“You took an actual shower?”

“Yeah. Didn’t all of you?”

“No. No we did not.”

“But you all said you did.”

“We lied.”

Al was so ticked off, he marched down to the front desk and got the bill reduced by half. He claimed it was because he was persuasive. I think it was because they felt sorry for him.

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