Geez, I gotta check my e-mail more often. Sorry about the late notice.
Brian of Snapped Shot and EvilFeed is giving away a tripod to the commenter who can make him laugh hardest.
The kind folks at National Geographic and Energizer are looking to give away this fantastic tripod to one lucky winner—And we here at Snapped Shot get to pick who that’s going to be. I’d pick one of you at random, but that wouldn’t be fair. So here’s what we’re going to do:
Click on down in the Comments field below, and leave me a funny comment. It could be a story, it could be a joke, I don’t really care what it is—But you’ve got until next Monday, the 6th of September, to make me laugh. The reader who does that wins the shiny new tripod above, thanks to the kindness of National Geographic and Energizer!
Leave teh funneh over at Brian’s place, and be quick about it!
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into it’s third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Goddamn cheap monkeys.
I didn’t know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn’t work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.
I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for awhile, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad. I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn’t want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn’t go bad. I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed, The odor wasn’t improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn’t take it either. I didn’t bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn’t quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
Kids in the back seat cause accidents; Accidents in the back seat cause kids.
How does a Wisconsin Mother know that her daughter is having her period? Her son’s wiener tastes different…
WTF, a friggin tripod? As a prize? How about a saddle?
Mrs. Pott’s Pit (written by a young Illinois college professor I met some years ago)
One day two little snakes were playing in their pit, hissing at each other and having a good time, as little snakes do. When their mother told them that she was cleaning their pit today and if they wanted to hiss they could go over to Mrs. Pott’s pit to hiss.
So off they went to Mrs. Pott’s pit and once there they began hissing at each other and having a good time, as little snakes do when Mrs. Pott said, what are you boys doing hissing in my pit? If you want to hiss you can go to your own pit and hiss. The little snakes said, but Mrs. Pott, our mother is cleaning our pit today and she said that if we wanted to hiss we could come to your pit and hiss. Mrs. Pott said, well, this is my pit and if you want to hiss you can go to your own pit and hiss but I’ll not have you hissing in my pit.
So they went back to their pit and were hissing back and forth and having a good time, as little snakes do when their mother said, what are boys doing hissing in our pit when I told you that I had to clean our pit today and that if you wanted to hiss you could go over to Mrs. Pott’s pit to hiss. The little snakes replied, but Mrs. Pott said that if we wanted to hiss we could go to our own pit and hiss, that she would not have us hissing in her pit.
Their mother said, tisk tisk, I can remember when Mrs. Pott didn’t have a pit to hiss in.
What’s the second place prize? Two tripods?
DamnCat – sort of… it’s a hexapod.
Oh…and you can keep the stupid tripod thingy!
Maybe they meant trip-o D…..a set of funbags. “Yo can win mah trip-o D!”
….or 3 iPods.
Ne’er was a weaker collection of witticisms gathered. Even the cut and paste jobs were lame. Do photographers lack a sense of humor, or is the promise of a tripod as exciting to them as us?