Lexophiles!

1. A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.

2. A will is a dead giveaway.

3. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

4. A backward poet writes inverse.

5. In a democracy it's your vote that counts; in feudalism, it's your Count that votes.

6. A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.

7. If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.

8. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.

9. Show me a piano falling down a mine shaft and I'll show you A-flat miner.

10. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.

11. The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.

12. A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.

13. You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.

14. Local Area Network in Australia : The LAN down under.

15. He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.

16. A calendar's days are numbered.

17. A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.

18. A boiled egg is hard to beat.

19. He had a photographic memory which was never developed.

20. A plateau is a high form of flattery.

21. The short fortuneteller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.

22. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.

23. When you've seen one shopping center you've seen a mall.

24. If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.

25. When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye.

26. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.

27. Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.

28. Acupuncture: a jab well done.

29. Marathon runners with bad shoes suffer the agony of de feet.

30. The roundest knight at king Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.

31. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.

32. She was only a whisky maker, but he loved her still.

33. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.

34. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.

35. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.

36. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.

37. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

38. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.

39. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

40. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, 'You stay here, I'll go on a head.'

41. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

42. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: 'Keep off the Grass.'

43. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, a nurse said, 'No change yet.'

44. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

45. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.

46. Don't join dangerous cults: Practice safe sects.

www.bouldertherapist.com

Why taking a dump in a Kohl’s is NEVER a good idea.

 

I went to Kohl’s today to pick up a couple new pairs of pants and just happened to stumble bass akwards into the second funniest thing to ever happen to me in a public dressing room.

The funniest thing, by the way, involved me, a rogue zipper, and two well-placed and well-needed stitches. I’ll just leave it at that.

 

So I walk into the Kohl’s dressing room and start trying on my regularly-priced-$79.99-now-on-sale-for-$23.99 pants and hear that someone is entering the dressing room adjacent to mine. I think nothing of it and continue to try to squeeze my 38-inch waist into a pair of 36-inch Dockers.

But a mere few seconds later I can hear this individual — clearly a large man by the grunting and groaning — taking off his belt. The noise a belt makes is quite distinct and it sounded like this guy had a belt buckle the size of a trash can lid. It sounded like he was taking off a parachute with all the clasps, buckles, and snaps he was undoing.

 

I chuckle to myself and take a deep breath to buckle my own pants when I hear this guy — I’m going to start calling him Dirty Randy from now on — make a couple additional grunting noises.

I’m paying homage to Dirty Randy from “The League.” Great show.

 

It sounds like this guy — I think to myself — is trying to take a shit instead of trying to take a shirt.

This incredibly crazy idea is only made more plausible by the next thing that happens: Dirty Randy absolutely uncoils a five-star, MVP-caliber fart. It was one of those epic sonofabitches that gets a second wind halfway through and grows louder. It sounded like he was trying to start an old tractor.

At the time I had one leg into my own pants and the commotion in the next dressing room sent me tumbling against the wall laughing hysterically. Here I was busting a gut while this guy was busting ass.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Dirty Randy mumbles matter-of-factly. And I don’t know exactly what it was about the way he said it, but it sounded like he was saying “Son of a bitch” not as a result of what happened but as a precursor of what was yet to come.

 

To keep prices low, please don’t shit in the dressing room.

 

And sure enough Dirty Randy lets loose a second fart, this one somehow even more repulsive than the first. The noise was a cross between an old creaky door opening and a Beluga whale. If you don’t know what that sounds like, check out this YouTube video.

 

Seriously, did this guy think he was walking into the men’s room instead of the dressing room? Is he squatting over a pile of discarded clothes that didn’t fit the last guy who was in there? The image playing out in my head was hysterical.

 

But the hysterics turned into hysteria when a visitor entered my dressing room. In the interest of full disclosure, I did lock the door before I went in there. But what came into that dressing room cannot be turned back by a $5 door bolt from Home Depot. It came in through, under, and over the door. It seeped through the cracks in the walls and tumbled down from the ceiling.

I’m here to tell you ladies and gentlemen, it was an actual mist.

 

Like in that Stephen King movie. I half expected a monster to come out of it and eat me.

 

But that would have been the painless way out. Instead, what came out of that mist was a stench so horrific that eight hours later it’s still burned into my nostrils.

 

“My bad, buddy,” Dirty Randy says from the room next door, real casual-like as if he accidentally walked between me and a TV I was watching instead of purposely filling my dressing room full of Agent Orange. I gasped for air, trying to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. But all that did was give me a big ole’ taste of whatever it was he ate that caused such a travesty in his lower intestine. It was as if he consumed a whole bucket of sea water and bad Thai food.

I texted my wife and told her I loved her.

 

This is probably the end.

 

And then as I began to pass out I hear a voice from afar.

 

“How’s it going in there, Dirty Randy?” It’s his wife, she’s outside the dressing room now. And she didn’t really call him Dirty Randy but it sort of ruins the story if I tell you his real name.

 

“It’s too big.”

 

Too big, I think. Is he talking about whatever he’s trying on or whatever he’s trying to get out?

I laugh at the thought of my own joke. It’s starting to pull me from my own haze.

“Randy, pass it under the door and let me take a look at it.”

 

Now I’m actually laughing out loud. Is this really happening to me? The guy who writes funny blogs just has this fall into his lap.

 

Or, more appropriately, fall out of the lap of the guy next to me.

 

“Jesus, Randy, did you just shit yourself?”

 

Mrs. Dirty Randy echoes my thoughts exactly. Not only do I think he shit himself, but he shit herself and myself and every other self in the Kohl’s men’s section.

 

“No,” he replies timidly, “I think it was the guy in the room next to me.”

 

My mouth drops. But then I can taste a wicked combination of burnt lasagna, sulfur, and Skoal. For some reason, in this moment Dirty Randy and I connect. It’s as if I can tell this guy’s wife is going to spend the rest of the day busting his balls for busting his ass. In the spirit of true brotherhood, I decide to take one for the team.

 

“My bad,” I say.

 

“Gross,” Mrs. Dirty Randy says and then I hear her leave. What follows next could not have been predicted. Dirty Randy doesn’t thank me, he doesn’t say sorry, but instead he lets loose the third and final blow, a low rumbling noise that sounded like he sat on a fog horn.

 

“Thank God she left,” he says, “I was trying to choke that one off.”

 

Needless to say, I didn’t end up buying the pants.

 

If you enjoyed this piece, you can find others like it on his blog at bigfunnyblog.com. I’d appreciate if you stopped by some time.

 

You can also like hisFacebook page at facebook.com/bigfunnyblog. He put lots of funny dump-related posts on there.

The 10 Commandments of The Grocery Store.

1. Thou shall not leave your cart in an empty parking spot. There are two kinds of people in this world: 1) those who return carts to the cart corral and 2) assholes. Leaving a cart to find it’s own way home often results in the cart camping out in a parking spot someone will inevitably pull halfway into before realizing the cart is there and angrily backing out, pissing off people behind them. The carts have a home. Help them find their home.

2. Thou shall not walk down the center aisle of the parking lot. You do not have super-human pedestrian powers that override people in their cars trying to get past or around you. Pick a side—any side—and no one gets hurt.

3. Thou shall travel up and down the aisle like a civilized person. Up one side, down the other. If you’re barreling down the middle or the wrong side like a linebacker and clip my cart, I am not above throwing a shoulder. Also, try to refrain from doing a 180 halfway down a jam-packed aisle only to amble along as if you’re taking in the sights of the Louvre. It’s soup. Not the Sistine Chapel.

4. Thou shall obey the express line rules. The sign says 15 items or less. It does not say, “Everything you can stick in the small-ass cart you chose instead of regular cart.” That does not refer to the number of item types, but the actual item count. For example, those 75 cans of soup that took you 15 minutes to pick out does not count as a single item. You are not a special snowflake. If everybody ignored this rule, it would just be a regular line.

5. Thou shalt not decide against the frozen pizza you picked up in the frozen foods section and then place it on the shelf next to the shampoo. Really? Come on now, people.

6. Thou shall respect the invisible checkout line bubble of personal space. Regardless of how close you creep up or how many items you throw on the belt, you will be next—after me. If you continue to creep up, I will pretend to go through my coupon keeper for an extraordinary amount of time and chit chat with the cashier…unless you would like to pay for my produce. In that case, you have a deal.

7. Thou shall treat the cashier with respect. This means not chatting on your phone while she’s ringing up your groceries or getting ticked when she won’t accept the four expired coupons you thought she’d ignore. If you get caught trying to sneak in an expired coupon, just let it go. It’s 35-cents off of dish soap. You’ll survive.

8. Thou shall not stop at the exit to go over your receipt. Once given your receipt and all 300 extra pieces of paper that get pumped out of the printer with it, do not stop and read the receipt like it’s a treasure map. There is nothing on that paper that is that important that you need to throw on the brakes and cause a backup. Move it along.

9. Thou shall reconsider the self-checkout. Know your limits. Can you find a bar code on a product? Match the picture of bananas on the screen to the bananas in your cart? Flatten paper money to insert into a slot? If you answered “no” to any of those questions, don’t be a hero. Go through the normal checkout.

10. Thou shall not stalk for a parking spot. Finally, do not slowly drive behind me at 5 mph impatiently waiting for my parking spot that is often only two down from another available spot. Unless you’re going to get out and help me unload my groceries into the back, your insistence on sitting there, impatiently revving the engine on your minivan, will force me to do a full vehicle check—interior and exterior—before getting back in and leaving 5 minutes later.

Thank you for shopping with us.

Have a nice day.

Where the HELL have you been?

You.....yeah, you.......

How's it going?

Come back again. A revamp of The Daily Skid Mark is taking place.

I miss you all. :)

Where has the time gone?

So, this is 2014. Meh.....

Look for MUCH more from my blog this year. More stories, more laughs, more crying and more pictures of dirty socks. I promise.

So, let's kick off 2014 by simply saying, thank you for sticking with me.

Even though I have been slacking. :)

-Mark