humor
"Humor is what binds humans together and makes difficult times just a little less painful; Sometimes you can't help but laugh. "
Who Gives Two Farts?
(It’s the night of Thanksgiving, right after a huge Thanksgiving dinner. The camera pans through a modest, dimly lit house. First, panning through the kitchen of the home, we find dirty dishes laying everywhere......on the counter...in the sink...etc. As the camera passes through the disarray of the kitchen, the camera passing right by an old man napping in the recliner, with the television on ‘static snow’. Then, we find the camera wondering upstairs, passing the kids toys, the camera continues to roam, finally arriving in the bedroom of married couple, Tim and Rita Manford. Both are in the bed. Rita’s sound asleep, as Tim looks somewhat puzzled, he is deep in thought. Then, Tim turns on his side, looks into the camera and that’s when it happens......the ‘wettest, longest and loudest’ sounding fart ever known to man. Rita wakes up out of her peaceful sleep......and looks none too happy at Tim.)
By Tyronn Rahda Monroe5 years ago in Humans
The Yam
The monitor in the jasmine-scented taxi-cab flashed $10.40, threatening the $13 in Ian’s pocket. At this time, he was 3 blocks from school and 4 minutes late, and he could only wonder what upcoming factor in his life would suggest the number 5. He looked to his fingers to find it, unsure if that sort of counting counted. It was hazy and grey across the window’s border, an earl grey rain falling in minuettos. Traffic put a violent dull on the scenery.
By Bennie Trang5 years ago in Humans
We Found Love In a Trash Can
A New York City gym: Upper West Side Moms are working out in their matching Lululemon sets, Soccer Dads gingerly lift too-heavy weights, InstaGays stare at the weights and somehow have perfect, sculpted muscles, and I’m sweating through my over-sized Mariah Carey Christmas concert tee struggling to do a thirty second plank. I have both lower boob and upper tummy sweat - the sweat lines forming a smiley face on my tee - and my hair is everywhere but where it needs to be. I’m not cute or attractive when I workout. My fake tan is spilling from my forehead onto the mat below ruining the gym towel I’m hovering over. I’m a literal dumpster fire just trying to hopefully squeeze into my 34 waist stretchy jeans from H&M for work tonight, but I thought about carbs today, so the zipper probably won’t zip. So, I continue to try and hold my plank while vigorously holding in a fart because the hot dad decided to sit next to me to do his stretches and he looked at me, which I instantly took for flirting, and now I’m spending the remainder of my plank planning our future: should Cecil and Timber (our future adopted children) go to private or public school?
By Alec James5 years ago in Humans
Once Upon a Spatula
All I needed was a spatula. Really. But you know what happens when you go into a thrift store. It's so easy to get sidetracked browsing all those shelves. You can end up pushing through hundreds of hangers on rods looking for something to wear, then scanning even more shelves littered with the cemeteries of clear glass bud vases left over from every last flower shop in town. Before you know it, you've been in the store for over an hour, but hopefully, you'll leave with at least one decent find. My sister Emily told me I could find a spatula at the thrift store on Mesa Vista Avenue. She also told me not to start up any conversations with the old man that owned the place, or I'd never escape. Little did she know.
By Karen Vargas5 years ago in Humans
Lost and Found
Have love and life passed me by? What am I? 38 – can’t be! What have I got to show for my life? One thing is - I’ve sold 8 million books. All romance. I reach for my little black moleskine book where I plan my bestselling series on its 240 lined pages.
By SARAH STEWART5 years ago in Humans
You little punk!. Top Story - February 2021.
“Uggh!” My head is pounding and all I can see is blinding light through my crusty eye lids as I lay like dirty laundry on the couch. Why did I drink so much last night? Oh, now I remember. It’s because I lost my job at the book binding factory. And my girlfriend of two years left me when she discovered we only had our love of sex in common during quarantine. It’s too bad because she was dynamite in the sack. And worthy of going on this bender to honor the loss of her. Even though it doesn’t feel like it at the moment.
By Yona Vaughan 5 years ago in Humans
Bathroom Fallout
Josh and I were together for about a month when he told me that he needed to undergo surgery. A routine procedure that would require rest and pain medication for about 2 weeks. He was less than excited about the prospect of being sedentary, and far less thrilled with the idea of his new girlfriend assuming the role of caretaker. Regardless of his preferences, the surgery went as planned and I did what I could to be helpful.
By Abigail Freeman 5 years ago in Humans
Hot Stank Cheese
Lactose intolerance. For some it is a mild inconvenience, for others, it is a tragedy. Josh’s intolerance falls somewhere in the middle of the spectrum which means the occasional dairy treat. So, when he suggested that I pick up some cheese to pair with a newly discovered summer sausage, I happily complied. Now, I did not want to waste this limited opportunity on boring cheddar or plain swiss – oh, contraire! I went with an aged asiago and smoked havarti. Believe me, I was quite proud of myself. However, when I revealed my purchases, Josh was less than impressed. When I opened the packages, he responded as if he had been accosted – and from his perspective, I suppose he had. Asiago does not have the most pleasant scent, especially if you are not accustomed to the subtleties of cheese culture. It is described on the interweb as having a fresh, milky, slightly floral smell – really, it smells like the socks of someone who just ran a marathon in August. Several days had passed since initially opening the cheeses. That detail is only relevant because the aroma of asiago does not dull with time.
By Abigail Freeman 5 years ago in Humans
You Snooze You lose- Or maybe you win
You Snooze -You Lose or maybe You Win. There he goes again. The big boss man out to a “business lunch”. Yeah, right buddy! you have one every day so you can expense your steak lunches and booze up, all on the company dollar. You are a pro at what you do, I will give you that. Client schmoozing is right up your alley, with that charismatic look of yours and that slick tongue. But you would be nothing without me. ME! The one that sits here and does the early mornings and the late nights. All the extra reports and research I do which is assigned to you. All with a dim glimmer of hope that you will give me the pay rise or the bonus I rightfully deserve. But that will not happen. You need me to stay here as your lackey. Argh... just Promote me you big jerk!! You are the face and I am the brains, the grunt work, the real deal. I just don’t look like you and cannot talk like you. So, I’m left back here being the whole reason we are successful without any accolades or reward. You go off in your Porsche and I go home on the train. You go home to a mansion complete with a wife and children who love you. I go home to my studio apartment that sits above a Mexican restaurant that has tequila drunk spewers at the doorstep inevitably every Friday night... yeah thanks $5 Fajitas Friday’s!
By Julia Jools5 years ago in Humans
Transition
We played baseball every waking daylight hour all year long with an occasional drift into football in the fall. I hated meal time because I had to “come in” to eat where I gobbled my food as fast as I could to hasten my return to the ball field off Rampart Street. From ages 7 to 12, baseball was my life.
By Armond Blackwater5 years ago in Humans
Res Life
Our first residence was a crappy little pale blue trailer on the Red Cliff Reservation near Bayfield on the banks of Gitche Gumee. I immediately made friends with other Indian kids my age. They were really cool people, human beings as they referred to themselves. We played on the shores of the big water, occasionally dipping ourselves to cool off in the 38 degree lake. When I left Louisiana the temperature was 95 every day with 90% humidity. The Mississippi River hovered around 88 degrees. In Red Cliff if the temperature reached 80 everybody started complaining about the excessive heat. To me it felt great and relatively cool. To them it was torturously hot, hence the need to immerse in the frigid lake.
By Armond Blackwater5 years ago in Humans
