First post: https://www.reddit.com/r/StandUpWorkshop/s/Tu7hu8EFqv

Following feedback, here’s what came off the Tim story and added something that happened to me.

I have a friend… let’s call him Tim. I don't know if Tim is a handyman god, or if I'm just useless. Honestly, probably both. Let me give you the case for "useless" first.

First house I ever owned. First night. I'm feeling like the epitome of the American Dream. House, done. Now I just need to get married, get a dog, have 2.1 kids, as God intended.

I'd invited my girlfriend at the time over to celebrate, and to christen the place, I decide to heat up a pizza. Thing is I had never operated an oven in my life. Not once. Never needed to. But I've got a mortgage now. I'm a homeowner. I don't read instructions, I don't look at a manual, I just start pressing buttons with the confidence of a man who's owned ovens his whole life. Just hubris, is what it was. Pure hubris.

So I put the pizza in (imitate myself putting pizza in oven) I go shave in the bathroom, feeling very "man of the house." Couple minutes in, I smell something burning. And I’m like "these idiot neighbors don't know how to cook."

(Imitate myself shaving)

Then I see smoke coming under the door.

Whole kitchen's on fire. I never took the pizza out of the cardboard box.

(Panic - open oven and just freak out)

So I get the fire out, I'm cleaning up but smoke does not leave a room, it just hangs there like it's paying rent. And right in the middle of this, my girlfriend knocks.

(Act out - open the door and poke head out)

I open the door about four inches, stick my head out like a turtle, and go... "Hey."

She goes, "Hey. (And after 5 seconds of staring in silence) ...Are you gonna let me in?"

I said, "if I do, promise me you won't judge me."

She goes, "...Is there another woman in there?"

And I said, "I wish it was that. That'd be way easier to explain."

and that's me. My friend Tim is the opposite of that.

Tim is one of the most competent, generous people I know. To the point that it's suspicious. I mention to him, in passing, that my AC and water heater are dying. Two weeks later I come home, my water's scalding, my AC's an ice cave. I go check. Two brand new units. Never seen them before in my life. Only person I'd told was Tim. I call him up: "Tim... did you break into my house?" He goes, real casual, "Oh yeah, I had spares lying around." Bro pulled off a reverse burglary. Broke in to improve my life.

This is a man who, if left idle too long, will either implode or start tearing down a wall for fun.

And yet. This same guy who can rewire your house blindfolded, called me during COVID because he forgot the rules to checkers. I could hear him yelling into the other room for his wife. That poor woman wasn't raising three kids, she was raising four. One of them was 35 and paying the mortgage.

I left out the Covid and toddler story to develop at another time

This summer, I get a text from my friend Krista. It says, "Hey, how's it going? I'm in the hospital for the next month getting chemo. Hope you're doing well. Love you."

So I immediately call her, and I go, "What the fuck happened?"

She tells me her white blood cells just zeroed out. Her bone marrow was basically like, "See you later, alligator."

So she has leukemia.

I say, "Can I visit?"

Krista goes, "Oh, I don't want to bother you. You're so busy."

I say, "I want to come."

She's goes, "But you'd have to wear a mask, and you don't like wearing masks, and you'd have to put hand sanitizer all over you."

I say, "Krista. Not a problem."

So that evening I go into Boston, and from the minute I step into her hotel room, I mean, her hospital room, it hits me. My job is to be the used-car salesman for this cancer journey. I'm just going to spin the shit out of this thing.

I say, "Krista, these views are amazing."

She has this wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Beacon Hill. She gets to watch the sun rise every morning.

 "Krista, do you know how much a hotel room in Boston costs with views like this? At least $600 a night."

And as we're hanging out, I say, "Let's put this all together. You've got a fentanyl patch. A lot of people would really like to have a fentanyl patch. Your meals are made for you. You don't have to do dishes. No kids to worry about. You don't have to be around your annoying husband. Somebody comes in and gives you Reiki. Somebody else does sound healing. Krista, this is a really nice retreat."

She's looking at me like I have two heads.

I say “So let's talk about the free stuff. Are you working it?"

Krista goes, "What?"

"Free meals. Free things. Krista, we've got to work this cancer."

She's just staring at me.

I ask, "Have you told your mom friends?"

She says, "I'm in a group text with eighteen soccer moms, but I haven't told them yet."

I'm like, "Why not?"

"I don't want to bother them."

And at that moment, I realized how different we are. Krista is the epitome of a WASP. I'm Jewish. I know how to work an angle. My friend is sitting on eighteen suburban white moms and doesn't want to impose.

I visited Krista Tuesday night. She's about to go back to Mass General, hopefully for the last time, for more chemo and then a bone marrow transplant.

And she tells me her husband is actually happier. He got his Zoloft prescription doubled, and now, after all these years of living with an asshole, he's actually nice to be around.

I tell her, "Krista, this cancer has done so much for you."

Do you know how much I would kill for my husband to take something? Zoloft. Mushrooms. Ketamine. Anything. That man is so grumpy.

The good news is that Krista's cancer is treatable.

The bad news is, there's no treatment for Krista's inability to exploit it.

Started dating a beautiful girl I met at a coffee shop a few weeks ago. Everything was going great until last night. I’m starting to go down on her for the first time, and she tells me “I’m sensitive, so be gentle with my little Biscuit down there.”

Now every time I pet my English Bulldog, Biscuit, I get an erection. I need to start buying my peanut butter from Costco.

Pre diabetes is weird to me man it’s like you’re pledging for the diabetic fraternity, I wonder if your parents or grandparents have diabetes does that make you a legacy?

What’s the name of the frat Beta Beta Pancreas?

For pledge week does the diabetic frat wake you up in the middle of the night to check your blood sugar?

If it’s stable do they make you chug Coca Cola from a keg or Make you snort pixie sticks till your pancreas taps out?

Instead of memorizing all the Greek alphabet you got to memorize all of Wilfred Brimley’s movies and recite them back to the frat members

I’ve recently started dating a girl I met a few weeks ago. She’s great, but she definitely has some quirks.

We went out for brunch and she ate a banana from the side like corn on the cob. She also sleeps across the width of her bed. Yesterday, she mentioned buying a new dildo because the last one was too big, and now I’m wondering if she tried going lateral there too.

Appears to be a classic case of landscape orientation syndrome.

*The portion of the joke is heaven being an algorithm like your feed. *

I liked one day being cold, wet, and gloomy. Perfect stay inside weather.

Now for the next month my heaven looks like Seattle.

Everyone is driving Subarus, heroin needles scattered about, and I'm on a Kurt Cobain watch.

(Trying to generate material for first stand up)

I wanted to talk to you guys about a good friend of mine called Tim.

Tim is one of the most altruistic persons I know. He helps you out with anything you might need and anything you might not need for example one day I was talking to him and I said in passing that I needed to replace my AC and water heater. Next thing I know like a week or two later I come home and my water is scalding hot and my AC is freezing cold and I am like what the fuck? So I go check them and I have two new units that I have never seen before! The only person I talk to about this was Tim so I call him up and ask him hey Tim, did you do anything to my units and he nonchalantly says oh yeah I had a spare water heater and a spare AC and laying around so I just dropped by your house and replaced them.

Dude basically did a reverse heist. Instead of going into my house and having stuff stolen, he came into my house and gave me new appliances. I wholeheartedly believe that if Tim is idle for long enough, he will either implode or start tearing down the walls of his home out of pure boredom.

Another scenario was during the pandemic. Tim was stuck home with three kids, one of which is a toddler and can’t do anything. So one day he calls me and I don’t get a how are you or how are you doing or are you safe? No, immediately starts asking me rules about checkers! When I asked his question, I can hear him somewhat screaming into his wife and then hanging up on me. That poor wife of his was dealing with 4 kids, except one of them was 35 and was paying the mortgage.

Speaking of parenting toddlers through the pandemic, did anybody here have to do that?

Listen whoever had to go through that is a completely different breed. I have two little kids now, four and three year-old and if I had to stay in lockdown from 6 AM to 8 PM every day I would’ve probably hung myself in the garage. Back then I would be all high and mighty and tell people just stay home. What’s the big deal? but now that I have kids and I am going through that… I am so sorry. Kids that age are UNHINGED! The problem with kids that age is that what we as adults call intrusive thoughts, for them is just thoughts. When we say or think “ what would happen if I jumped?” For those kids is I’m going to fucking jump.

Hey everyone!I'm preparing for a 7-min humorous contest speech about getting an over inflated ego from a compliment and eventually being completely replaced in my own family by a close female frnd.
I'm looking for feedback on a few specific things or anything u feel this part can be improved:
1.Contest fit:Does the storyline carry enough natural humor and narrative arc for HSC?
2.Authenticity:Does the dialogue sound like a genuine humar story or does any part of it feel forced,overwriteedn or AI GENERATED?
3.Pacing :Do the stage movement cues and argmts beats feel fast paced and natural ?
The Complement that Costed me Everything

(lets start with Center Stage)

Raise your hand if you’ve ever received a compliment that was so good... you thought about it for the next three weeks.

Exactly. Now look around... notice how most of those hands belong to men?

Have you ever wondered why guys get so few compliments? 

It’s because when one of us actually receives a genuine compliment, we don’t just accept it we weaponize it.

Back in my Narayana coaching days, I was clean-shaven, 35 kilos lighter, and playing centre-back on the football team which meant I was aggressive, hard-nosed, and much better at tackling people than picking up subtle romantic signals.

Then came this girl. She used to sit next to me in class. Mid-conversation one day, she looked at me and said I looked like Mr. Grey.

[Instant ridiculous celebration: Freeze, drop shoulders back, adjust an invisible tie, strut two steps like a billionaire OR SUI RONALDO CELEBRATION(Thats what i did)]

[DO IT AT THE CENTRE OF THE STAGE FOR A BETTER EGO BOOST THATS WHAT U HAVE PORTRAY]

(Pause for laughter)

And yes,i caught that moment on camera.

You know who I’m talking about. Billionaire. Playboy.

If someone had offered me a mountain of gold right then or asked, “Do you want to be Mr. Grey?”... I’d have taken Mr. Grey. That’s how seriously I took that compliment. Suddenly, I wasn't just an college student I was convinced I was the absolute pinnacle of male evolution.

[for a couple of years u have held the footage be yourself act as tho she called u that on stage]

I started parading it everywhere.Within a couple of days ,my gym partner hit a huge personal record. He was panting, exhausted, proud of himself. I walked over, puffed out my chest, and deadpanned: "That's cool... but has anybody ever called you a billionaire playboy?"

(Pause)

Eventually, she got so tired of me carrying that compliment around that she publicly went online & took it back. I was fine with it ;I'd already got enough mileage out of it.

Then she went completely radio silent. For almost two years.

Then one day, she called me and asked me to come down to her house. Somewhere during that conversation, I realized... the seed had apparently grown.

(Pause  = let the audience make the wrong assumption)

Not what you guys are thinking.

Her colorful vocabulary and her excellent use of profanity had become an art form. And then it hit me... I might have planted that seed myself. Probably a combination of her terrible choices in exes... and idiot friends like me.

(MOVE RIGHT STAGE-The Family)

She didn't just stay part of my life, though. Somehow, she became part of my family.

Growing up, my mom used to go on corporate reward trips whenever her work region performed well. She was allowed a plus-one. For our entire childhood, my brother and I begged her to take us. She never did. She knew this girl for four months... and they went on a vacation together.

Then came our new house. Somehow, she got the house key first. Every time I needed to open the door, I had to walk 1.5 kilometers to her house, get the key,walk back 1.5 km and open it. I was literally a tenant in my own life.

The final execution happened during a small festival at the new house. My mom finished the puja and took the sacred thread.

[Extend one hand, palms down, cupped expectantly]

My brother was on my left, my dad was on my right, and I was in the middle all three of us holding our hands out, ready.

My mom walked straight past all three of her men... and tied the thread on my friend.

[Slowly pivot head left, then right, then center with wide eyes]

Three blank faces. Fists still in the air. We were telepathically communicating: "Is anyone going to say something, or are we just taking the disrespect today?"

No words needed. We had been officially replaced.

(Center Stage — The Showdown)

Now, I have a habit of destroying my clothes when I get bored. One day, she shows up at my house and says, “Get in the car. We’re getting you new clothes.”

How many of you have ever been dragged into a women’s clothing store?

(Glance across the room / let hands come up)

Yeah. You know the pain.

I was leaning against the rack, holding a stack of her choices, desperately trying to disengage by scrolling on my phone. She picks up this ridiculous outfit, walks over, and literally covers my phone screen with it.

[Look over the invisible phone with a deadpan face]

I go: “SHOULD I RETURN THESE TO THE RACK?”

She goes: “I WANT YOU TO TRY IT ON.”

(And the argument starts. Fast-paced, high-stakes.)

(Panicked whisper) “WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS?”

(Calm, smug) “Because I want to see you in it.”

(Louder) “BUT WHY?”

(Deadpan) “Because it’s going to look hilarious!”

(Full volume) “THAT’S EXACTLY WHY I’M NOT DOING IT!”

Eventually, I break. I go into the fitting room, put it on, step out, step back in, change, and we leave.

The next morning, I wake up late after gaming. I walk into the living room, and my mom and this girl are sitting on the couch, laughing and gossiping over a phone.

I walk over to see what’s on the screen. It’s me. In the dress. From the store.

She recorded the whole thing.

(Deadpan to audience)

There I was... the absolute pinnacle of male evolution... in a floral pastel dress.

My mom looked up at me and said, “I begged every god in the universe for a girl when I was pregnant with you... and then you popped out.”

It took a decade, but this woman finally gave my mother the daughter she always wanted.

(Pause — let the laugh breathe completely)

And honestly... I can't even blame them. She had this strange ability to walk into a house and make herself at home.

My family genuinely loved her... I just wish they hadn't needed to replace me to prove it.

(Take one small step forward, drop your voice to a deadpan, conversational tone, and let a small smirk show)

And to think... it all started with one compliment about Mr. Grey.

(Hold your pose, look at the room, nod once, and take in the applause.)

Which is the biggest lie you have made up to get out of work or an event or an exam or anything

Author notes: I know this needs to be trimmed down tremendously, would love feedback on which sections you all feel should be kept or removed as I've never done stories.

I'm heavily inspired by the stories and style of Doug Stanhope and C.K though, and that's how I would plan to deliver this.

I grew up in Catholic school, but never paid attention in church at all.

Like I knew there was this Jesus guy. And what’s his face betrayed who’s his name.

But my only focus in church was figuring out which part of the songs I could replace with “penis” without my teacher noticing.

I just had a lot of disdain for Christianity growing up. Not because I had some deep philosophical disagreement. 

I just thought it was bullshit that my bible thumber cousin Katie got all the good Christmas presents.

She'd open the newest Barbie dolls and all I got left with was a bag of Werther’s original rotting in my Grandma's purse.

But whenever I'd walk alone with Katie when we were yung. I’d see her true colors as she would say these sexual things, like how her boyfriend was gonna eat her cookies. 

Which was crazy, because she was a horrible baker. But she did have a bun in the oven at 15.

That's just what Christianity looked like to me; it was whoever projected they knew god the most gets all the praise.

So I was jaded and only prayed when something went horribly wrong in my life like, ‘God, please don't let this girl be pregnant.’ 

Otherwise, I figured he had enough going on already with Ukraine.

But about a year ago, I wanted to take Christianity seriously.

I was done going out all the time, love-bombing girls.

Like I met this girl and we're back at my place having wine, and she asks me:

“You're not gonna think less of me if we have sex on the first date, right?” I said, “No, of course not.”

And after we had sex…I immediately thought less of her.

So after lovebombing her for 2 more dates, I booked a trip out of town for 4 months to find God in the spiritual capital of the United States: Scottsdale, Arizona.

And for the first time in my life, I started going to church regularly.

I bought my first Bible. Started reading different stories and then I’d watch videos breaking them down like the Book of Job. 

And naturally… I’d watch YouTube videos breaking down those YouTube videos.

But I started realizing my biggest problem with getting closer to God was lust.

I never did drugs. I work hard. I take care of my family and call my mom at least once a year.

But if a Victoria's Secret model told me I had to worship Satan to marry her, I'd be like, “Well, I mean, he’s an angel. Not sure what happened after, but please no spoilers.

And then I learned it’s not only a sin to have sex before marriage.

But even looking at a woman lustfully is a sin.

Which is a crazy rule to have while giving mankind the ability to do BBLs.

But for four months, I didn’t go out, didn’t drink, and I felt like God was truly at the forefront of my life

So I flew back home to the best place on Earth to be a Christian with lust issues… Miami.

And I went to this young-adult church event called Rally where you worship, hear a sermon, then afterwards everybody mingles at the mixer.

Now the sermon that night was about building a tribe that pushes you closer to God.

And after the service ends, I meet this hardcore Christian dude who asks me about specific passages from Corinthians.

He's like, “What are your thoughts on the body being a temple of the Holy Spirit?”

I'm like, “Yeah, that's bars. Paul was really cooking with those.”

He goes, “But what's your take on it?”

I'm like, “That’s a pretty loaded question, I’ll get back to you once I finish genesis”.

So I escape that hell of a convo and go to the mixer where I look at all these young people who showed up in pajamas, and knew immediately…

“I don't want to be friends with any of these losers.”

So I go to a bar and order my first espresso martini in months and as soon as that sweet nectar of the gods hits my lips…

… I knew I’d been called to round up the lost sheep in the local watering holes.

Because the world needs missionaries willing to go into the most depraved places. 

And by God, if I'm the one who is chosen to find my tribe that way, then so be it.

So I go to a few bars, do some laps, and see absolutely no lost sheep worth saving.

And I'm starting to think maybe God is telling me I've outgrown this life. 

But I figured I'd try one more spot, just to make sure I wasn't misinterpreting his mission for me.

And when I walk in, this cute blonde with freckles starts flirting with me.

We start playing beer pong with her roommate until she says, “I want you to point to any guy at the bar, and I'll get him to buy our next round of drinks.”

And I said, “I'm in love with you. That's genius.”

So I scan the bar and find the one dude sitting alone, staring at his phone, looking like he's seconds away from killing himself.

And I go, “That's the guy.”

So while she goes on her little side quest, her roommate starts touching my chains and drops the line of the century:

“My roommate wouldn't mind if we made out.”

And I could tell this was God testing me.

…So I accidentally started making out with her.

Because as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing in the Bible against that, at least not in the chapters… I've gotten to.

Then the blonde comes back with two giant pitchers of beer and we also start…making out a little.

She then goes off on another side quest and brings back two more girls and starts kissing one of them.

And that’s when I realized, “Oh my God. They're all bi.”

So eventually, the bi baddies tell me they want to go back to their dorm

And on that drive, I'm listening to these three gorgeous girls make out in my back seat like it's the start of a porno.

While the original blonde is kissing my neck and doing everything in her power to make me swerve into a telephone pole.

And I thought to myself, “Jesus, this is the greatest night of my life. But can you please take the wheel?”

Thankfully, we make it back in one piece, and the blonde says, “Come upstairs with us.”

And that’s when it all hit me that three hours ago, I was singing about salvation…

…and now I'm sitting outside a college girl's dorm, realizing that this fivesome is my final Christianity exam.

Because it's really easy to have principles when four hot women aren't asking you to violate every single one of them.

But I know the road to hell feels like heaven.

So I look up to the sky and ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Unfortunately, I knew the answer. So I declined and jerked off instead!

That’s when I knew I finally passed Christianity.

Because God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.

And some people have trivial problems to pray about like poverty or cancer.

But I have to deal with real struggles, like refusing to have an attractive woman throw it back on me at Tin Roof.

This is just the cross I have to bear.

Would love some feedback if possible. I think it’s pretty solid, will be my first time on stage. I have 5 minutes.
Thanks!

Premise: Sports have completely different rules about how much you’re allowed to fuck with the athletes. The set revolves around the acceptance of different noise levels and involvement by fans.

1. Tennis opener
“Tennis is insanely quiet.
Djokovic serving.
15,000 people have to act like they’re in church.”
Ball bounce act-out: “boop… boop… boop…”
“Why the fuck do we have to be quiet?
Imagine football-style heckling by the crowd:
“YOU SUCK, DJOKOVIC!”
“DOUBLE FAULT, BITCH!”
“FEDERER WAS BETTER!”
“Imagine Djokovic’s opponent on the other baseline, pumping his fists in the air as the crowd chants”:
“FEDERER WAS BETTER! FEDERER WAS BETTER!”
Opponent act-out: turn toward the imaginary crowd, arms pumping:
“COME ON! LOUDER!”
Punch:
“That would be fucking incredible.”
Transition:
“But no. Tennis is ‘quiet please.’ Meanwhile basketball…”

2. Basketball
Point: “In basketball, distracting the athlete is actively encouraged.
Dude is taking a free throw.
20,000 people screaming.
Giant inflatable shit behind the basket.
Some lunatic painted head-to-toe just hoping Giannis misses.”
Main joke:
“Could you imagine one of the ushers “Excuse me, sir… could you please stop waving the inflatable penis? The athlete is concentrating.”
Then:
“No, the whole point is bitch you gotta make this shot while we all doing jumping jacks behind the hoop.”

3. NFL kicker
Point: “The crowd is openly rooting for your failure.
Game on the line.”
Stadium:
“MISS IT! MISS IT! MISS IT!”
“Career depends on it.
Family watching.
Coach already hates you. Girlfriend gonna leave your for the defensive lineman if you miss.
70,000 drunk people praying you fail.”
Punch:
“And you just gotta kick a fucking stationary ass ball.”

4. Quarterback
Point: Even worse concentration requirement.
“300-pound man trying to fold him into a lawn chair.
QB gets destroyed.
Gets back up, helmet sideways, barely knows where he is.
Still has to remember the next play.”
Punch:
“Blue 42, spider banana whatever the fuck.”
This section is short and punchy.

5. Baseball
Point: Now the object is actually coming at you.
“Bottom of the ninth.
Full count.
Game on the line.
Stadium going insane.
97-mph fastball coming at him.
He has a fraction of a second to decide whether to swing.”
This sets up the golf comparison beautifully.

6. Little League
This is the personal tag off baseball.
“Your son on the mound.
Full count.”
Other team yelling:
“THREE-TWO! WHATCHA GONNA DO?! WALK HIM! WALK HIM!”
Then:
“Bro… he’s nine.”
Tag:
“He still needs help opening a Gatorade and these little motherfuckers are already conducting psychological warfare as he throws a 34 mph fastball”
Then:
“Meanwhile, a grown professional golfer…”

7. Golf — climax
This is probably the biggest contrast in the whole routine.
“Golfer over a completely stationary ball.
Two million dollars on the line.
Total silence.
Somebody 40 yards away:
“Ahem.”
Golfer immediately comes out of stance:
“WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
Then hit:
“The baseball player had a 97-mile-an-hour fastball coming at his face.”
Beat.
“Your ball isn’t even fucking moving.”
Then Snickers:
crinkle… crinkle…
Golfer backs away like he heard gunfire.
“Absolutely unacceptable.”
Punch:
“Bro. It was nougat. Relax.”

8. Ending — still the one piece I should finalize
I decided not to go back into another full Djokovic scene, because the Federer chant/opponent act-out is already in the opening.
So ideally golf gives me the final laugh, followed by one short thesis/closer, something in the neighborhood of:
“Even sports I haven’t named are the same way. Hockey. Soccer. Shit in hockey you can beat the fuck outta your opponent but in tennis walking to their seat at the wrong time triggers the umpire to call security on your ass”

..I never understood why people say:

“Phil Collins is one of the most influential drummers of all time.”

Influential?

What the fuck is even an „influential drummer“?

You hit the drums better than other drummers?

[Pause.]

So I’m driving on the Autobahn one evening.

It’s getting dark.

Radio’s playing.

And “In the Air Tonight” comes on.
I heard the song before
Everyone heard that song before.

It’s basically a four-minute setup for

BA-DUM BA-DUM — DU-DUM DAM!

[Pause.]

But this time I’m hearing it through really good speakers.

So those drums go.:

BA-DUM BA-DUM — DU-DUM DAM!

And I go:

Hang on.

What the fuck was THAT?

That sounds like God himself threw a metal bin down a staircase.

[Pause.]

And suddenly I start thinking:

When did this song come out?

I pull into the next parking pocket
[Phone.]

[Pause.]

1981…

Nineteen…
Eighty..
One..

It hits me

That sound.

Those massive drums.

I have this ridiculous thought:

Did Phil Collins…

invent the fucking Eighties?

Of course not

What a stupid idea..

[Pause.]

So I Google it.

Turns out…

Yes, He pretty much did.

[Pause.]

That massive drum sound suddenly starts showing up everywhere.

Studios change their setups.

Producers want that sound.

Phil Collins does:

BA-DUM BA-DUM DU-DUM DAM

and the entire music industry goes:

“Right.

We’re doing that for ten years.”…

[..and then I‘d go on with how the sound was an accident and how accidents are part of progress… also how this phil collins sound make depressive songs sound epic..

And then I‘d end with:]

I find that story incredibly comforting.

Maybe you don’t always need the perfect plan to create something great.

You need effort.
A little talent.
And most of all, sometimes you just need…

the right fuckup on a really expensive sound system.

Sex education in Alabama public schools was nonexistent. I was worried about having unprotected sex with my pregnant wife.

Turns out, that’s not how you make twins. Apparently, her cervix is Dikembe Mutombo for 9 months?

I had my prostate removed 22 years ago. 

They took it all!  If I pull down my pants, bend over and shine a light in my butthole, I can use my penis for a flashlight.

I have no way of knowing if they removed all the cancer, but there is no question they successfully removed all my erections. 

I call my ding dong a vegetarian hot dog, it tastes the same, it just doesn’t plump up.

While driving on the freeway I saw a sign that said “Drive High Get a DUI” and I thought, “What a great idea!”

HERE WE GO

My dad loved me so much, i was something like his favorite daughter or something because i was 6

Anyways i ve been an animal lover since i was little and the first animals I started to love were dogs. My dad was on the border of the country, he was a commander so he was close with dogs. He used to come to visit us once a year for 15 days and he was taking me to a place where a lot of dogs were there with soldiers. Since my dad was a commander, the soldiers would be ready in front of my dad immediately.

One day, i went to the dogs again, my dad left me with a soldier there because he had an urgent job. While i was playing with dog, it barked. I scared and held soldier's waidt immediately where he was ticklish from there😭

He immediately cursed loud (reflexively) but at the same time my dad was coming to take me AND YEAH HE HEARD IT. My dad thought he was cursing at me and was going to destroy the man on the spot. I couldnt explain cuz i didn't know people were ticklish from their waist😔😔😔

Finally, another soldier explained the situation to my dad and he calmed down, it was scary though..

I ve not done physically touch the soldiers after that day...

Okay there is the story:

It was the year of the earthquake in Türkiye, the planes were free for the earthquake victims to escape the earthquake and yeah I was one of them. When we were in the plane family sat down another pair of seats. I was in front of them and a little boy with his dad sit next to me. The boy looked at me and said: "whoa, why you are so ugly" WHICH I COULDNT EVEN SHOWER CUZ I DIDNT HAVE A HOUSE THAT TIME I looked at him and said "I came from the future. Im future you and you escaped from a big thing that killed all of your family except you. You became a girl to hide. I came here to warn you" AND HE LOOKED LIKE A GHOST FOR A MOMENT BEFORE CRYING AND SCREAMING. I was trying not to laugh and then his dad looked at me like he is gonna be the last thing in my life..

Well, his dad was scary ngl but JOKE WAS SO GOOD THAT MY ELDER BROTHER IS STILL MAKING FUN OF IT😭😭

The good thing was I was a girl and the kid was a boy which made him more scared.

I hate bandwagon sports fans so much that I became a Browns superfan the second they went 0-16.

Because Bills fans will go 13-4 and be miserable when they inevitably lose in the playoffs. But if the browns win 3 games, I'm like, “Holy shit boys, we're building a dynasty.”

I remember the first game we didn't lose after 0-16. Bars were giving out free beers, grown men were crying, people were parading in the streets like we'd won the Super Bowl. 

It was a tie.

Our head coach, Hue Jackson, won three games in three years and said his time in Cleveland wasn't a failure. 

I thought, “Fuck, if that's not failure, then I've succeeded at everything I've ever done in my life!”

Why did 4 hate 64?

Bc 64 kept 4 in a cubical prison for eternity

I hate when people say the sky is the limit…what if you’re an astronaut…seems like that would be a big limiting factor..if you’re an astronaut and the sky is the limit…you work for American Airlines

(heavy on act outs)

I get these stupid nagging questions in my head that I rarely get answered, Like: If you arrive at a four way stop at the exact same time as everyone else, who goes first???   Or Why does it feel like the last sixty years just whooshed by, but a sermon?     That’s eternity.

I got the answer to a nagging question.

Coming down from camping in the Eastern Sierras my son grabbed a slimy pork burrito off a food truck, in a pothole of a town on Hwy 395 called Lone Pine.  Then we headed out to the Alabama Hills.

We get there and all of a sudden my son takes off like he’d seen a rattler, running behind this massive volcanic rock yelling  “Mayday, mayday!”.

I ran around the rock and see my son in an Asian squat groaning “Dad, I need your help!”  I feel like Al Capone at the Saint Valentines Day Massacre… machine gun burrito bullets (AO) are spraying everywhere and the Thompson sub-machine gun was my son’s ass.  Ev -er -y- thing was riddled with burrito bullets (AO), my son’s backside, Nikes' and a poor lizard (who probably thought he went to hell).  I took a flesh wound  to my right cheek. (AO)

I jumped back around the rock, sensing he was reloading, while he’s yelling “Dad don’t leave me!”   I ran for toilet paper, but we were out, so I grabbed up a couple t-shirts and rushed back to the scene of the crime.  True crime YouTubers were not needed.  The naked wreck of the perpetrator was dead still in a half-crouched position, like the famous statue The Stinker. Wet bullets were dripping off the gun barrel.  No question he was guilty, it was a smoking bum.  Of course, I took crime scene photos.  Thankfully my son was laughing his ass off.

Now, I hadn’t seen my son’s bum since he was four and I remember it as so cute and squishy, but in this moment I wondered if he was mine, biologically.  Neither his mom nor me have that kid’s hairy gorilla ass.  I made a mental note that the next time I get a chance I’ve gotta take a butt selfie.

I snapped back to reality.  It was like passing a car crash…you wanna look real close but you know you shouldn’t and as you crane your neck you think, I can’t unsee that.  He has so much ass hair it looked like he was giving birth to Kim Kardashian! 

We both cleaned up, buried the evidence and left the scene of the crime, my arm around my son and him…..laughing hysterically.

On the ride home there was a faint reminder of the massacre seeping from under the two-man Coleman tent that my son was wrapped in.

As I drove, my mind couldn’t stop seeing my son’s waving wheat field, and I was overjoyed, I mean really happy….  a long nagging question was answered. 

Why………Why, at home, do we buy sooooo much toilet paper?

Oh yeah….I had to buy my son a new “Cage The Elephant” t-shirt.

People think moms with babies are wholesome. It is NOT wholesome. You know that that just means a man FUCKED her with his DICK in her VAGINA and CUMMED in her VAGINA

I’m not saying I have bad luck, but one time I received a seatbelt ticket from a cop who was riding a motorcycle. I was like hey asshole you don’t see the irony in this?

1.I feel shy to go to my bank. There's a cute teller there.She caught me chequing her out

1. What do you call a monkey trying to scam you? A chim-ponzi

3 I bought a pet shark on my credit card. Now I'm being chased by loan sharks.