ComicRelief
How to Survive a Family Gathering Without Losing Your Mind
Ah, family gatherings. That magical time when relatives you haven’t seen since the last solar eclipse gather under one roof to eat, shout, laugh, and ask you questions that make you question your life choices. If you’ve ever walked into a family get-together feeling confident—and left with mild trauma and a missing Tupperware—you’re not alone. This guide will walk you through everything you need to barely survive your next family reunion with your sanity (and snack plate) intact. --- 1. Prepare for the Interrogation Room The moment you walk in, some well-meaning (read: nosy) relative will launch a full investigation into your personal life. Get ready for: “So, what are you doing with your life?” “Still single? Why?” “When are you getting married?” “When are you giving us grandchildren?” “Have you gained weight or is that just happiness?” Pro Tip: Wear sunglasses indoors and pretend you’ve become spiritually enlightened and can’t answer earthly questions. --- 2. Secure Your Snacks Early You have approximately 7 minutes from the start of the event before your favorite food items disappear into your cousin's bottomless stomach. Uncles will camp near the sweets like it's a Black Friday sale, and aunties will keep the good stuff "for later." Pro Tip: Casually walk into the kitchen and “offer to help serve,” then sneak your plate behind the microwave. Retrieval is a solo mission—use stealth. --- 3. The Cousin Comparison Game No matter what you’ve achieved, there will always be a cousin who “just became a doctor-engineer-astronaut-businessman,” and somehow also owns a startup and a wife who makes 5-layer cakes. Pro Tip: Nod politely, then fake a phone call from Elon Musk. Loudly say, “Sorry, I can’t join the Mars mission this year, my mom made biryani.” --- 4. The Baby Photo Blackmail Somewhere in the middle of the gathering, your mother or an aunt will pull out your most embarrassing baby photo. Usually naked. Usually during dinner. Pro Tip: Distract them with a fake medical emergency. “Uncle Shafiq is choking on a samosa!” Then delete the photo when everyone rushes over. --- 5. Surviving the Kids’ Attack Children at family events are either sugar-fueled tornadoes or quiet saboteurs. They will ruin your clothes, steal your phone, and ask questions like “Why do you look like that?” Pro Tip: Wear dark clothes, fake sleep, or bring a decoy phone filled with cursed videos like “How Cement is Made – Part 12.” --- 6. Auntie Gossip Hour (a.k.a. Live News) If CNN ever loses its ratings, it should hire your aunties. They know who’s getting divorced, who failed their exam, who dyed their hair red, and who was seen at a restaurant with someone not named "spouse." Pro Tip: Nod like you care, but slowly back away and pretend you just remembered the biryani is burning. --- 7. Crying, dancing, and music moments At some point, someone will turn on music, and your 50-year-old uncle will start dancing like it's 1997. Someone will shout “You used to dance so well as a child, show us!” Pro Tip: Fake an injury. Limp dramatically and claim “old football wound.” If asked to sing, say you’ve taken a vow of silence. --- 8. Escape Plan The event is wrapping up, but you’re not free yet. You must: Avoid helping with dishes without being labeled “lazy.” Escape with your Tupperware. Thank every adult personally or face lifelong grudge. Pro Tip: Create an emergency exit group chat with your siblings or allies. Use code phrases like “Operation Papadum” to coordinate exit. --- 9. Debrief & Recovery You’ve made it home. You smell like 7 types of curry and emotional damage. Sit back, scroll your phone, and prepare your social media post: > “Great time with the fam today! So much love and laughter!” (It’s all lies, but they’ll believe it.) --- Final Thoughts Family gatherings are chaotic, loud, and occasionally traumatic. But they're also full of memories, weird inside jokes, and people who’d fight a lion for you (or at least throw a slipper). So next time you're summoned, go prepared, stay sharp, and always, always guard your snacks with your life.
By Abraham Lopez8 months ago in Humor
The Medieval Madness Dash
Today, I took a detour on the way back from campus because of a call from my frantic sister-in-law. She had been invited to a medieval-themed party and needed to do some last-minute dress shopping. She’d been putting it off for quite a while, but the party was today at 4:00 PM.
By Staringale8 months ago in Humor
What Happens at HYPROV? Here's What the Audience Thinks
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when you mix hypnosis with improv comedy, HYPROV is your answer—and it's unlike anything you've seen on stage. A groundbreaking live experience that combines two seemingly unrelated performance arts, HYPROV has been making waves across the U.S. and Canada. But what exactly is it, and what do audiences really think after the curtain falls?
By Kenzie Scott8 months ago in Humor
The Great Granny Heist . AI-Generated.
Maggie always thought her grandmother, Dot, was the epitome of wholesome. At 78, Dot wore pastel cardigans, baked oatmeal cookies that could charm a grizzly bear, and led the local knitting circle with the precision of a drill sergeant. So when Dot called Maggie one rainy Tuesday and said, “Sweetie, I need your help with a little project,” Maggie pictured something quaint—like knitting booties for a church bazaar. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Maggie arrived at Dot’s cozy bungalow to find the knitting circle in full swing. Five gray-haired ladies sat in a semicircle, needles clacking like a tiny percussion band. There was Dot, the ringleader; Ethel, who smelled like lavender and mothballs; Ruth, whose glasses magnified her eyes to cartoonish proportions; and the twins, June and Joan, who finished each other’s sentences like a vaudeville act. The air buzzed with purpose, but Maggie noticed something odd—no yarn was turning into scarves. Instead, the table was littered with maps, a flashlight, and what looked suspiciously like a grappling hook. “Gran, what’s going on?” Maggie asked, eyeing the hook. Dot adjusted her bifocals and grinned, revealing a mischievous glint Maggie had never seen before. “We’re planning a heist, dear.” Maggie laughed, assuming it was a joke. “Right. Robbing the cookie jar?” “No, no,” Ethel piped up, waving a knitting needle like a conductor’s baton. “The Yarn Barn.” Maggie’s jaw dropped. The Yarn Barn was the town’s premier craft store, a mecca for knitters with aisles of alpaca wool and cashmere blends. “You’re… stealing yarn?” “Not stealing,” Ruth corrected, her magnified eyes blinking owlishly. “Liberating. They’ve jacked up the prices again. Five dollars for a skein of acrylic? Highway robbery!” “We’re the Robin Hoods of knitting,” June said. “Stealing from the greedy to knit for the needy,” Joan finished. Dot handed Maggie a cup of tea and a dossier—yes, an actual dossier—outlining the plan. “You’re our driver, Maggie. We need young legs and a steady hand.” Maggie sputtered into her tea. “Gran, this is insane! You could get arrested!” “Oh, pishposh,” Dot said, patting Maggie’s knee. “We’re old ladies. What are they going to do, throw us in the clink?” And so, against every shred of common sense, Maggie found herself roped into the Great Granny Heist. --- he Plan Goes Awry : The heist was set for midnight. Maggie pulled up in her beat-up hatchback, the “getaway car,” as the knitting circle piled in with their gear: knitting bags stuffed with tools, a rolling walker for Ethel, and a thermos of chamomile tea “for nerves.” Dot rode shotgun, clutching a hand-drawn map of the Yarn Barn’s layout. “Step one,” Dot announced, “we enter through the back door. Ruth’s got the lockpick.” Maggie gaped. “Lockpick? Where did you—” “My late husband was a locksmith,” Ruth said proudly, pulling a hairpin from her bun. “I’ve got skills.” They crept to the rear entrance, a rusty door behind a dumpster. Ruth knelt with surprising agility, hairpin in hand, while Ethel held the flashlight, its beam wobbling like a drunk firefly. After a tense minute, the lock clicked. “See?” Ruth grinned. “Piece of cake.” Inside, the Yarn Barn was a dark labyrinth of shelves. The grannies fanned out, whispering excitedly as they stuffed their bags with yarn—merino, mohair, even a glittery novelty skein Ethel dubbed “disco wool.” Maggie hovered by the door, heart pounding, muttering, “I’m an accessory to a crime. I’m going to jail with my grandmother.” Then came the first disaster. June tripped over a display of crochet hooks, sending them clattering like metallic rain. The noise echoed, and Maggie hissed, “Shh! You’ll wake the whole town!” “Oops,” June said, while Joan added, “She’s got two left feet.” Dot waved it off. “Keep going, girls. We’re almost done.” But the chaos was just beginning. Ethel, reaching for a high shelf, leaned on her walker for balance. The walker buckled, and she toppled into a tower of yarn balls, which rolled across the floor like multicolored tumbleweeds. Ruth tried to help, only to knock over a mannequin dressed in a knitted poncho. It fell with a thud, its plastic head bouncing ominously. Maggie groaned. “This is a circus!” “Focus!” Dot barked, channeling her inner mob boss. “Maggie, grab that cashmere by the register!” Against her better judgment, Maggie obeyed, darting to the front. That’s when the security alarm blared—a shrill wail that turned the heist into a full-blown catastrophe. “Abort! Abort!” Maggie yelled, but the grannies were too busy bickering. “I’m not leaving without my alpaca!” Ethel shouted, hugging a skein. “Move it, slowpokes!” Ruth countered, hobbling toward the exit. Dot grabbed Maggie’s arm. “To the car, now!” --- The Getaway ; The knitting circle stumbled out, yarn spilling from their bags, as Maggie herded them into the hatchback. She floored it, tires squealing, while the grannies cackled like schoolgirls on a sugar high. “Step on it!” June cheered. “We’re Bonnie and Clyde!” Joan added. Maggie glanced in the rearview mirror, expecting police lights. Instead, she saw Ethel waving a skein out the window like a victory flag. “This is not what I signed up for!” Maggie wailed. Back at Dot’s bungalow, they spilled inside, breathless and giddy. Yarn littered the floor—enough to knit a small army’s worth of sweaters. Maggie slumped onto the couch, head in hands. “We’re felons. I’m disowning you all.” Dot chuckled, pouring tea. “Oh, lighten up. We didn’t hurt anyone.” The next morning, Maggie braced for the worst—sirens, handcuffs, a mugshot next to her gran. But the local paper told a different story. Headline: *“Mystery Yarn Bandits Strike Yarn Barn!”* The article described “a gang of crafty culprits” who’d taken only yarn, leaving cash and electronics behind. The store owner was baffled but unharmed, calling it “the politest robbery I’ve ever seen.” Maggie stared at Dot, who was calmly knitting a scarf. “You’re famous now,” Maggie said. “We’re legends,” Dot corrected, winking. Over the next week, the knitting circle met daily, churning out blankets and hats from their haul. They donated them to the local shelter, earning praise from the community. Maggie watched, torn between horror and admiration. The grannies had pulled off the heist, dodged the law, and turned their loot into goodwill. One evening, Dot handed Maggie a lumpy, hand-knitted sweater. “For my favorite accomplice,” she said. Maggie sighed, pulling it on. It was itchy and uneven, but it warmed her heart. “You’re impossible, Gran.” “And you’re a natural,” Dot replied. “Next time, we hit the fabric store.” Maggie choked on her tea. “Next time?!” The room erupted in laughter, needles clacking as the knitting circle plotted their next adventure. Maggie realized she was stuck with the wildest crew in town—and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind one bit.
By Fahad Ghani9 months ago in Humor
The Chicken We Eat. Top Story - May 2025.
It’s Tuesday again, which is wild because it was just Tuesday the other day. Tuesdays entail eating dinner at an impossible speed so my husband and I can race both kids off to their overpriced dance classes where they learn a routine they then perform for one whole minute to an auditorium of hostages at the end-of-year dance show.
By Nora Ariana9 months ago in Humor
Donald Trump's Home Alone 2 Cameo: The 7-Second Scene That Sparked Decades of Debate
The incident took place in 1992. At that time, Donald Trump's name was not preceded by the title 'US President'. He was primarily known as a high-profile American businessman and real estate developer. Trump was the owner of several luxurious properties, one of the most iconic being the Plaza Hotel in New York City. That year, he appeared in a brief guest role in the family comedy movie Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.
By Farid Uzzaman Ahad9 months ago in Humor
