Random Robby Ramblings
If you pour ice water over a hot dog, does it become a chilly dog?
– Hang on, you are telling me that they don’t have a cure for a disease that can be killed with soap?
I am Buzz Aldrin, second man on the moon, Neil before me.
What should you do if you see a spaceman? Quickly park your car in it.
I wanted to buy a half a rabbit, but the butcher he didn’t want to split hares
What did the leftovers say after it was wrapped up? Foiled again!
What do you get if you don’t clean your mirror? A dirty look.
Did you hear about the scientist who crossed a carrier pigeon with a woodpecker?
He got a bird that not only delivers messages, but also knocks on the door when it gets there
A weasel walks into a bar and the bartender says, “Wow, I’ve never served a weasel before. What can I get ya?” “Pop,” goes the weasel.
Why did the drummer keep banging her head against the drums? She was playing by ear.
Writing on the Wall
A girl, who was not quite four years old, was alone in the house when the phone rang. She answered it and was told that Mr. Brown was calling. “I’m sorry, no one is here. Can I take a message?” she said.
Mr. Brown replied, “Certainly.”
After a pause, Mr. Brown heard, “OK, I’m ready. Who did you say this is?”
“How do you spell Brown?”
A long pause, and then, “How do you make a B?”
A man goes into a supermarket and buys a tube of toothpaste, a bottle of Pepsi, a bag of tortilla chips, and a frozen pizza.
The cute girl at the register looks at him and says, “Single, huh?”
Sarcastically the guy sneers, “How’d you guess?”
She replies, “Because you’re ugly.”
Eye Eye Eye
On their 50th wedding anniversary, a couple summed up the reason for their long and happy marriage.
The husband said, “I have tried never to be selfish. After all, there is no ‘I’ in the word ‘marriage.'”
The wife said, “For my part, I have never corrected my husband’s spelling.”
On A Roll
While I sat in the reception area of my doctor’s office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room. As she went to the receptionist’s desk, the man sat there, alone and silent.
Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother’s lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man’s, he said, “I know how you feel. My mom makes me ride in the stroller, too.”
While I was preaching in a church in Mississippi, the pastor announced that their prison quartet would be singing the following evening.
I wasn’t aware there was a prison in the vicinity and I looked forward to hearing them.
The next evening, I was puzzled when four members of the church approached the stage. Then the pastor introduced them.
“This is our prison quartet,” he said, “behind a few bars and always looking for the key.”
In a software design meeting, we were using typical technical jargon to discuss a data exchange interface with a vendor. One co-worker said the programming we had ordered was delayed because the vendor was suffering from a “severe nonlinear waterfowl issue.”
Curious, the team leader raised his eyebrows and asked, “What exactly is that?”
The programmer replied, “They don’t have all their ducks in a row.”
Welcome To Holland
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability — to try to help people who have not shared the unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this. . .
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip — to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. Michelangelo’s “David.” The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes and says, “Welcome to Holland.” “Holland!” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland, and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.
– WRITTEN BY EMILY PERL KINGSLEY –