Tag Archives: Humor

How I get through meetings

I wrote this last year during my first meeting/welcome party at my job. I still find it entertaining.

 


 

 

what an awkward meeting

everyone’s staring at each other

nobody has jack shit to say

stare

stare

all of these people will be dead in fifty years

or close

unless there’s a war

or global warming

then all of these people will be dead in less than fifty years

and everyone would come to their meetings with haunted eyes

but I doubt that will happen

because the university will shut down

and in the case of a nuclear apocalypse

that will be

the only blessing

 

Two worlds blew up in the future and I

I chose the one without the university

and that has made all the difference

 

I feel like we’re gonna be here a long time because we want to justify all the planning and partying we’ve done to be here

that’s ok

every welcome party

makes me feel more isolated

and hate myself more

why is that I wonder

all this attention on me

and me, not being the right kind of person to accept it healthily

 

now we’re talking about pies

and everyone is a LOT more comfortable

people are cute

now we’re awkward again

we’ve exhausted the topic of pies

 

Now we’re talking about baseball

and John has taken over the conversation

everyone seems a bit relieved and just a slight tad antsy

but mostly relieved that we don’t have to look at each other

conclusion: not a lot of extroverts in this group

 

Somebody let a monster into the room.

“GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!” Melissa screamed. It looked at us all with beady bloodshot eyes, its fangs dripped, its short nude body all unnatural veins and floppy genitals and lumpy musculature. It heaved with each breath and flitted its eyes around the room as if looking for something.

Everyone rolled their their chairs away from it instinctively.

The creature started towards Melissa, the closest, who got up and backed into the table. She grabbed the nearest weapon, a coaster, and threw it at the monster. It bounced off the monster’s head with a stony PLUNK noise and then hit Kirk.

The creature menaced towards her. It grabbed her with one meaty hand and bared its fangs. She screamed hysterically as it sank its teeth into her shoulder.

John, who had the most PTSD, was the quickest to react. He grabbed his thermos and beat the creature over the head. The creature flinched several times but didn’t back down.

Stacey ran out for help. Erin leaped on the creature, trying to pull it off of Melissa. I grabbed a pen and stabbed the creature repeatedly in the shoulder and back. The pen broke.

And that’s when Hannah hulked out. “NOT AGAIN!” she screamed. “Goddammit not again! You bastard!” She flipped the ten foot conference table, leaped upon the monster, and caved in its skull with one punch. The creature twitched and died. Blood pooled. Melissa shakily extracted herself from underneath the body.

“Whew, you guys have interesting meetings,” I said lamely.

Awkward silence reigned once more.

 

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Kid’s stuff… or maybe not

Penorama said we should post something pointless. I’m always up for that!

I spent most of middle school writing stories with my friend Liz and giggling insanely in the corner of the classroom instead of doing work. When we wrote this, we must have been in… seventh grade, so 12-13ish?

This doesn’t make much sense… it was written by kids after all. Enjoy!


 

 

Darla and Doug

 

One day, a girl named Doug was walking along at the Zoo.  Suddenly a monkey swooped down from a tree and hit her on the head.  Then he threw coconuts at her.

“Ow! Ow!  Owwwongle?  Waahlamop.”

Then the monkey stole her purse and ran into the zookeeper.  Then the zookeepers took the monkey way and gassed it.

Doug said, “Glop-op-do?  Wa… Wha…  Where am I?”

A passerby said, “You were just hit on the head with coconuts when a zookeeper gassed a monkey who swooped down from a tree.  Or maybe it was a rhino.  I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Doug said, “Cool!”

The passerby said, “Where are your parents?”

Doug said, “I don’t know.  I don’t remember having any.  Can I live with you?”

Passerby said, “But I’m a guy named Darla.  guys and girls don’t live together… Oh, well, I guess it’s an exception for me and you.

“OK.”  Darla said.  “I have to warn you, I’m forty-five and I live with my parents still.”

Doug said, “Oh, that’s alright.  I dig old guys.”

Darla said, “Don’t you go hitting on my dad!”

Doug said, “OK, I’ll just hit on you.  OK?”

“Sure!”

Darla and Doug walked away.  On the way home, they visited a pet shop and bought a monkey.

“Be good now,” said Doug.

“Okay,” said the monkey, Bart.  Then he stole some girl’s purse.

“I guess that just primate nature!” Doug laughed, then Darla laughed, and they walked home talking about cancer.  They also bought some ice cream with the money from the monkey’s new purse.

 

 

 

Love poem

 

You are my comfort.

You wrap me in your warm embrace.

Softly console me when I cry.

You know me inside and out.

The only one I can rely on.

Any time, day or night

You are there

Always willing to spark a little joy

Into my waning mindset.

You are so tender

But sometimes you have a little bite.

Rough around the edges

You are bitter enough to match me

You are sweet enough to sweeten me

I can feel my brain chemistry change in your presence

When you are gone your memory lingers.

Why is it that nothing good can last?

My greatest love

My finest friend

My hopeless addiction

O chocolate brownie

 

 

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Please don’t let it be a limerick

Last night I was consumed with worry for my fellow human beings. There is only one form which can carry this sentiment, but I fear I lack the talent to really do it justice.

 

I’m concerned about people who go

Through their lives doing just as they’re told.

They insist they’re too pure

To get down on the floor

And take a look at their own asshole.

 

Inadequate. I tried again:

 

Some people can live their whole lives 

And apparently think that it’s fine 

That they never bent over

And angled a mirror

To see where the sun doesn’t shine

 

Maybe I shouldn’t have bucked tradition. Maybe a limerick is no good unless it starts with Nantucket.

 

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