did you hear about the conjoined twins who robbed the bank?

it was a very con fusing case.

what do you call it when it rains pork?

a meatier shower.

i lost my radish last night.

don't worry, though. i bet it will turnip.

what has more legs than a centipede?

two centipedes.

what has more legs than a bird?

a centipede.

these are all jokes written in the notes on my phone that are so horrible i can't help but laugh at myself. the last one makes no sense and i love it

Ok. I do not expect this to win, and I do not expect this to be very funny, but it was funny to me so shut up.

Yesterday my brother introduced me to this new game called Among Us. I don’t usually play video games, but this one seemed interesting. Basically, it’s a murder mystery. You and your friends are on a spaceship, doing various tasks to keep it running. Meanwhile one (or sometimes two) people are secretly working against you, murdering people and sabotaging the ship. If you come across a murdered person you can report it, in which case everybody goes to the meeting room to figure out who did it. There is a period of discussion, followed by a vote. The person voted off... dies.

I join the game. There are a bunch of my brother’s friends who I don’t know. The screen comes up - I am a murderer.

*well this should be interesting*

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, so I walk into the first random room I see. There is no one around but my brother.

*look around, no one there, stab brother*

The one game rule that I actually know is that the murderer can make use of vents in the floor to move around undetected. There happened to be a vent right next to me.

*hop in vent. Upstairs, brother extremely annoyed*

Once in the vent, I didn’t know how to exit so I clicked random things until I managed to find the nearest vent and get out.

*coast clear, nobody saw*

Now remember, I have no idea where anything is.

*head right, for absolutely no reason. Enter room*

I look around, and I see my brother’s dead body. I ran directly to the place I had just so masterfully escaped. I enter full panic mode at this point, because at any moment someone could enter the room and see me standing over a dead body and not reporting it.

*report the body that I just killed*

“you guys, I just found a dead body and I am so scared, I have no idea what’s going on, I just clicked this button and now we’re in a meeting room, what’s happening?”

*all of my brother’s friends being condescending about my lack of knowledge*

Long story short, nobody suspected me and I won, despite having escaped the murder scene and then walked right back in.

10/10 play

One time I was spectating this dodgeball game. It was good at first, but there were these two older kids playing. And I’m just over in the corner watching. But anyway they were clearly brothers, but they must’ve taken drama in school or something because they started a scene ALL over the floor.

The kid’s brother got hit with a dodgeball and so obviously he has to leave. But he kinda dramatically faints to the floor....

Yeah he just did a fake fall and started overreacting the whole thing. The brother runs up to him, gets to his knees, and holds his head in his arms like it’s some kind of Romeo and Juliet story.

And they start saying stuff like “I’m sorry brother! I should’ve been there for you! I WILL AVENGE YOU!!!”

And then the guy who got hit says something like “NO! IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! I SHOULD”VE SEEN THAT KID COMING!”

And I’m just over in the corner like “What!? I came here to watch some kids get hit in the face with balls! I didn’t pay to see some teenager and his brother making a whole Romance story on the floor!”

So I’m just waiting for them to shut up, but they KEEP GOING

There was a constant paste of “OMG I’m soooo sorry!” And I’m just staring at them. Of course the other kids playing are getting annoyed so they start Aerial attacking them with dodgeballs! Like seriously, every single person in the game was targeting this guy and his “poor wounded brother.” They start to get upset and yell at the kids. And I mean duh, no one wants to see some guy and his sibling making out on the floor of a DODGEBALL GAME.

So again I’m just staring as they fight. And I got mad at myself cause I didn’t record it. But anyway that was weird. So yeah, if you ever see some 17 year old guy doing a tragic loss scene on the ground during a dodgeball game, please, film it!

One day, this kid brought a cat home, because they apparently have enough money to go ahead and buy a cat.

Anyways, the kid brought the cat home, and the mom was working. The mom saw the cat, and suddenly stopped working. Yeah, she froze, just like a computer! Suddenly, the mom started sneezing like crazy!

"I'm allergic to cats!" the mom yelled.

"How catastrophioc," the kid replied.

"Where did you get that cat?" the mom demanded.

"Somewhere in the space-time continuum," the kid said calmly.

"Well, put it pack in the space-time continuum," the mom ordered.

"Okay," the kid agreed, before dropping the cat on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" the mom asked. "I told you to put the cat back in the space-time continuum!"

The kid chuckled. "Our house is in the space-time continuum," they said.

Then the mom fanited. Just like that! With no warning! For no reason! I mean, it's not like they were exposed to allergies or strong emotions.

*This story is based on the Reedsy Prompt "Write a humorous story about the descendant of someone remembered for an insignificant act."

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/faq/Reedsy.com*

My name is Blaze. OK, my real name is Blake Hilson, but my pen name is Blaze, because it sounds awesome. I have written for the local newspaper as an entertainment journalist for the past ten years, but my passion is for poetry. This passion comes from my late father Adam. My father wrote a poem that was published in the poetry anthology An Ocean So Blue, which came from the organization Talented Poets. Before my father passed away, he gave me his copy of An Ocean So Blue, and it is one of my most prized possessions. He told me that he had intially mailed his poem to Talented Poets for their contest, and although his poem didn't win the grand prize, it got as far as the semi-finals. They told him that his poem was brilliant, and they wanted to publish it in their anthology of only the best poetry they receive. For $80 they offered to send a copy of the anthology to him as a keepsake, and he happily obliged. I have had the anthology in my possession for the past twenty years. Here is his poem that was published:

A Really Bad Poem

By Adam Hilson

This poem is very dumb.

Reading it won't be any fun.

It sounds like it was written by a bum.

It will probably be thrown on the floor.

After all, the metaphors are a total bore!

This poem is very bad.

It is not at all rad.

It will never become a fad.

Because it is just PLAIN BAD!!!

This poem is very lame.

It will never help my rise to fame.

I am a horrible poet.

And yes, I do know it!

My poem is as sour as a lime.

None of these lines even rhyme!

As I revisited my father's work, I smiled at the chills I felt from his pure poetry. Talented Poets were still around, and it was my turn to add to our family legacy. I love being an entertainment journalist, but I have wanted to be a published poet since my dad's success. Fortunately, it was easier than ever to enter the contest from Talented Poets. My dad had to type out his poem on a word processor and mail it in, but all I had to do was submit my poem on their website. It was time to see if I had what it took to win the contest and get published in a future Talented Poets anthology. I submitted a poem that I worked hard on, and felt a lot of pride for. Here it is if you would like to read it:

Funky Beat

By Blaze

I was walking down the street.

Walking on my feet.

When I fell into a purple hole.

I landed on a floor that was real cold.

I saw some little green guys.

They looked at me with red eyes.

Then they started dancing to a song.

A techno dance song, that they danced along.

I started to dance along with it too.

I became a real dancing fool.

These green guys know how to party.

Boring in the sewers, hardly!

Unfortunately, now I must go.

But there's something I want you to know.

Next time you're bored, with nothing to do.

Join these green guys in the sewers, they're really cool!!!

I was quite nervous, but the time had come. My father inspired me to write, and I have definitely found great success with a well loved entertainment column. But I really wanted to follow in his footsteps and become a poet. I clicked submit, and I reviewed the confirmation screen that my poem was received and would be reviewed for the contest. And now the waiting game began. I decided to call it a night for now....

*****

I didn't have to wait very long. About a week later I had an email in my Inbox from Talented Poets. This is what it said:

Dear Blaze:

We have reviewed your poem "Funky Beat," and we were blown away by your amazing artistry. We would like to extend our congratulations on being accepted into our poetry contest as a semi-finalist! Your beautiful poem has the potential to win the Grand Prize of $500,000. We also are in the process of publishing Fields of Ferns, which is our latest anthology of only the best poetry, and this beautiful keepsake just won't be complete without your incredible poem gracing its pages. For a small fee of $150 we can include your inspiring work, and send you a copy for your enjoyment. We also have additional products that your poem would be well suited for. Please click the link below to visit our online store.

Thank you for sharing your work with us. We are deeply touched by your talent, and we look forward to collaborating with your genius.

Sincerely,

Talented Poets

Elated, I clicked the link and placed an order for the upcoming anthology, Fields of Ferns. I did it. I was going to be a published poet. Just like my father. I looked in the online store to see what else Talented Poets offered. They had many more things that could be done with my poem, options that I don't believe were available when my father's poem was published so long ago. My poem could be printed on a keychain. I could get a hoodie or a T-Shirt with my poem on it. I could have my poem read and recorded by a professional voice actor on an MP3 file. I could order a beach ball with my poem on it (might be nice for the summer). I could have my poem engraved on a dog food bowl (why not? Animals love poetry too). A dishware set with my poem engraved on it was also an option (could be nice for dinner parties). Many more options were available, and I couldn't wait to consider all of them.

*****

"Good morning Blake!" My coworker Tom greeted. Tom wrote an advice column for the newspaper. "That's an ummmmm, interesting hat!"

"Thanks buddy!" I responded enthusiastically. Fields of Ferns wasn't set to publish for a while, but some of the other items from Talented Poets had arrived. One of the things I had ordered was a baseball cap with my poem printed on it.

"Those socks are something too." Tom said. I was wearing shorts with my socks pulled up to my knees. I don't normally go for that look, but I had also ordered socks with my poem printed on them.

"Aren't they awesome?" I asked excitedly. I was about to fill my personalized coffee cup that had my poem printed on it, when Tom asked me a question that would open up a conversation about my proud achievement.

"So, what's with all the personalized things you have today? And is that poem printed on your sneakers too?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Remember when I told you about how my father was a published poet?"

"Yeah, I finally remembered after the first 50 times you told me."

"Well, I entered the contest my dad had entered before, and my poem is a semi-finalist! They are also publishing it in an anthology, and I was able to get it printed on all these personalized things! I have even more personalized things at home!"

"Well, congrats man." Tom said as enthusiastically as he could muster (I think he needs some coffee. I should have ordered him one of the mugs too). "Your enthusiasm is great, but you might want to be cautious. I am pretty sure this contest and their book are from a vanity publisher."

"Vanity publisher? What do you mean?"

"Well, they are probably only interested in publishing poems based on the money they receive, not the poems themselves." Tom replied. "I mean, you are wearing socks with your poem on them. How many publishers do that? I bet any poem entered would be a semi-finalist."

At this point I felt offended. "Are you saying you don't think my poem is semi-final worthy? Talented Poets think I have talent!" I then pulled up the email from Talented Poets on my phone to show Tom, while trying not to cover up my poem printed on my custom phone case.

"Your poem is.... fine." Tom said cautiously. "You are a great writer Blake, and you have done amazing work here at the paper over the past ten years. I'm just saying, you could probably send this organization anything, and they will butter you up to get your money. And it worked, as you are sporting socks with your poem on them."

"Whatever!" I responded heatedly. "I will send a completely ludicrous poem to them, and I guarantee it will go nowhere in their contest!" I stormed away from Tom, with a plan in mind to prove him wrong....

*****

I was ashamed of what I was about to do, but I had to prove that Talented Poets praised my poem for its merit, not my money. This was also about my father's legacy as well, since this all began with his published poem through them. I created a new email and used an alias in order to separate my decoy poem from my true work. I read the submission I was about to send once more before sending it to the contest. At the very least, my real poem should win against this one:

Vain Poet

By Blizzard

I could send anything to Talented Poets

And they would say I'm an artist.

They don't appreciate true poetry.

They only appreciate true money.

But I'm a vain poet, and I might know it.

So here's my poem.

Is it semi-finalist worthy?

Maybe if I drop money on it it will be.

Would they put this poem on a baseball cap?

Sure, if I send enough money.

So let's do this.

VAIN! VAIN! VAIN!

MONEY! MONEY! MONEY!

TALENTED POETS SUCK!

WORST COMPANY EVER!

EVER!

EVER!

EVER!

It made me sick writing these words about Talented Poets, but there is no way they would endorse a poem like this. Now as long as I don't hear back from Talented Poets, then Tom could eat his words....

*****

"You were right Tom. Talented Poets really is a vanity publisher."

"Sorry Blake," Tom said sympathetically. "But if you don't mind me asking, now that you know this, why did you buy that hat?"

I blushed as I remembered that I was now the "proud" owner of a baseball cap with my decoy poem "Vain Poet" printed on it. I began to explain why I had this awful hat. "I had to test it out and see if they would really go as far as publishing this poem and putting it on merch. And they did. I will be receiving a copy of Fields of Ferns with the poem "Vain Poet" in it. And this poem is also a semi-finalist. And Talented Poets told me they loved this poem and that I have incredible talent. Did you want to hear the spoken word recording of the poem that I also purchased?"

"I think I'll pass. But they aren't wrong in one aspect." Tom responded. "You definitely have incredible talent. Just look at how well your entertainment column has been received by our readers."

"Yeah...." I replied, still feeling blue. "I just hate that my dad's legacy was being published by a vanity publisher, which anyone could have done by throwing money at them."

"I know for a fact that your dad left a far bigger legacy than that." Tom gently rebuked. "Yes, his claim to fame was being published by a vanity publisher. But you enjoy his poem, don't you? You enjoy the anthology it appeared in, right?"

"Yeah, I really do." I said with a smile. "The poem summed up my dad's goofy sense of humor, and that is something I will always treasure."

"Exactly." said Tom. "And your father's legacy goes beyond his poem. He wrote something that inspired you, and thanks to that inspiration you are also a writer, a writer whom people look forward to reading in our paper every day. Your father's poem had lasting effects that are continuing. You should be proud of him, just like he would be proud of you."

I was deeply touched by Tom's words. He was right. It doesn't matter that my dad's poem only got published by Talented Poets. He inspired me, and thanks to that I am able to make people happy every day with my writing. My father started a legacy that continues on.

"I really appreciate that Tom. You are so wise, maybe you should write an advice column!"

Tom laughed. "Maybe you're right."

*****

So I'm not entering any more Talented Poets contests or buying merchandise with my writing printed on them. But I am still writing my entertainment column. I am still working on writing poetry too. I bought a nice journal and wrote my father's poem in it. I am filling the journal with my own poems too. Maybe some day I will try and get them published, but even if I don't, I will still pass them on to the next generation for inspiration. So for what it's worth, thanks for the start Talented Poets. And thank you for everything dad. You will always be my hero.

Digging around for something to do, I was arrested. I was at a cemetary.

The sky is blue, nothing new, but if the sky blows, does that mean billions of people in heaven have weird happy looks on their faces?

Seahorse? Yeah. Seawater? Yeah. Seaweed? No, but I could go for some about now.

Sniff with the nose, smell the rose, life around us grows, while we sit and ponder prose, but most of all, who has the smelly toes?

Why say I Do at weddings, when after the honeymoon is over the I Do turns to, "Say what!"

Speaking of weddings, why isn't it the best man getting married ... after all he is supposed to be the "best".

Remember hearing someone tell you your plan will backfire saying, "It'll all just blow up in your face?" So I ask ... will it matter after that?

Then there is foreplay ... did you know when I first heard that word, I thought that meant there were four people in the same room playing Twister.

Another thing I didn't know growing up was the two words "drug money"... I couldn't figure out how Washington, Jackson, Grant, and Franklin could get high.

Warning Adult Rated Joke: What's the definition of a happy Roman? Gladiator.

I had to console a dear friend of mine the other day and said to her "Po-Em, it'll be okay."

Lastly my impression of E.T.

https://voicespice.com/Player.aspx?c=p&h=1AED36E4&j=1C4F88

********

Strangely enough, though I have hit this numnber before

but deleted several things over time ...

this makes for post 1,000. Talk about comic relief!

So this isn't exactly something funny but here are some of my comebacks. I have said these all at least once.

1) (When someone calls me sick) Oh no hon, I'm not sick, I'm twisted. Get it right. Sick makes it sound like there's a cure. (Hon being a southern insult for "idiot, I'm just too nice to call someone that.)

2) (Go to hell) Can't. Devil forbid me to even look that way. He knew if I showed up that I'd best him in 1-on-1 combat while he's armed and I'm bare handed. And if I did that, he'd have to give up his throne.

3) (f*** it!) No thanks, I'm good. I'll wait till I'm married.

4) (when someone, specifically a guy, is being tempermental) Are you on your period? Need some midol? I got some midol. (I did this to my boyfriend earlier just joking around, he wasn't being tempermental though. Another funny thing about it though is, I don't have midol, I never do. I either take a tylenol/ibuprofen once during that time of month, or I suffer and I usually suffer.)

5) (At random moments when no one even says anything or if the question isn't a yes or no question) No. No. No. No. No. No.

6) (to myself when I think something stupid) Did you switch brains with someone today?! Why on earth would that even occur to you dumba**! Okay, we aren't a dumba** but still that was stupid.

A weird quick chat between my 4-year-old daughter and I:

Her: Daddy I love you.

Me: Aw, thanks, sweetie. I love you too.

I bend over to give her a hug.

She whispers in my ear: Daddy.

Me: Yes?

Her: I farted.

Me: Thanks.

True stories are sometimes the best.

Every so often life is just so funny you laugh about it 20 years later if your mind thinks about it. This is one of those times. Here’s a good ol’ fashioned funny “MOM” story.

“oh dear” you know with moms there’s no telling what’s coming next, moms are

unpredictable some even to themselves. LOL.

This “MOM” story is about me. I am the mom, the madré, mamacita, mamsita, mama

I had many names and those weren’t all of them. LOL Who knew a mom would have so many names and titles?

June is a birthday month, birthdays within days of one another, my daughter’s June 2 while I celebrate my day on the 6th. My daughter had just celebrated her 18th birthday. We had a huge cake and there was still a lot left. She had just started dating a new boy named Andy. Andy came over with a few of his friends, the day after her birthday and the cake was sitting on the table. I was trying to be funny. LOL

I think I am a comedian. LOL and...

It went JUST LIKE THIS. I am Sitting in the Kitchen at the bar, incomes Andy and his friends and with my daughter. Like a good hostess I am, I always offer something to our guests. The huge cake is sitting on the table. I thought about the movie “Father of the Bride” and how Martin Short would say cake

Oh NO here it goes.

MOM " Andy do you want some cock?"

Andy's eyes grew 3 sizes larger

ANDY " uh what?"

MOM "some cock, you know cock"

DAUGHTER says in a very loud voice

" MOM WHY ARE YOU ASKING ANDY IF HE WANTS COCK?"

MOM "You know how on Father of the Bride, Martin Short says cock"

DAUGHTER "MOM THAT'S CACK NOT COCK CACK WITH AN A"

MOM "OMG I said cock"

Everyone dies laughing and is rolling on the floor

Love your MOM'S especially those OMG moments, they are Timeless