Funny Experiences Archives

How I Learned To Respect Women

I can’t remember exactly which summer it was, ’59 or ’60, but the rest is crystal clear. I learned a most valuable worldly lesson that day. It was an education and a humiliation. A lesson in respect and that old adage: never judge a book by its cover.

It is often said that in the repressed and carefree 1950s that kids didn’t know about sex. That’s not exactly true. We didn’t know what lovemaking was or how a baby was born, but we certainly had a primitive knowledge of sex appeal.

Little girls knew they liked boys who were “cute,” and try as we may to think of girls as “icky,” we boys knew we wanted to be near the pretty ones.

If a girl was pretty and also able to run and catch and kick like a boy too, then she was even more desirable to be around.

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A Southern Girl’s Reality

I know that most of these will have readers thinking a little about their behavior. These are based on my experiences growing up in the Heart of Dixie.
Lindsay Mulder

  1. Fat kids are only cute if they belong to someone else.
  2. Just because people don’t say that your children aren’t hideous doesn’t mean that they aren’t. Stop finding modeling agencies for your ugly kids.
  3. A politician’s wife supports him. She knows she’ll live in infamy for being married to an alpha male.
  4. You are only special to your family and friends.
  5. A hundred years after your death, nobody will care that you existed.
  6. Regardless of what they say, people don’t like hearing stories about your dog.
  7. If you are a woman and you join a predominantly male company, don’t whine when they won’t include you in their conversations.
  8. Women that file lawsuits because a man looked at them too long need to be fired for being too sensitive. Our husbands may work there. You make them uncomfortable.
  9. If you go out in a short skirt, halter- top and high heels, you WILL be looked at. Stop whining.
  10. If you don’t want to run the risk of being groped, think twice before heading out to a bar in the middle of the night and getting plastered Read the rest of this entry

30 Horror films: 2 Weeks

”]Cover of "The Shining [Blu-ray]"

“I know what we can do over our two-week break,” I announced to my sisters one night, after we were debating how to spend our work-free, homework-free, 2-week break.

“Let’s watch 30 horror films!” I’m not even sure how I thought of the idea – or why I decided to pursue it – as my sisters and I don’t even particularly like horror films. But it sounded like a good idea at the time.

“Um, why would we do that?” My sister Danielle asked me.

“Why not?” I retorted.

My brilliant logic won them over, and our quest began.

We started asking for film suggestions from all of our friends (which we would later classify into two groups: Our respectable-taste-in-movies friends versus our smile-and-nod friends). At first it was fun. We would excitedly rush off to Blockbuster and grab some movies, confer with each other, and tell every confused soul we possibly could about our plans.

But after a few days, it became more like work:
“Listen,” I remember my sister Lauren telling me in a very serious tone, “You can’t go to Tom’s tonight. We have to watch three films tonight to meet our quota. We’ll never catch up in time if you go.”

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P as in Poop

I must admit I have used the “mommy brain” excuse more than once in the past five years.  There are times that it truly feels as though my IQ has been halved with the birth of each of my three children.  So why does new research suggest that motherhood actually makes you smarter?  How could that be?  Do I just have a warped view of my former life or is it something altogether different?

My theory is that I have temporarily shut off the part of my brain that allows me to say intelligent things.   The capacity to think is still there.  I just have to use my brain for other purposes at this point.  One day, I will flip the switch and blossom into a GENIUS!

This temporary shut down became abundantly clear today when I made a complete ass of myself on the telephone.  We are looking into refinancing our home and the gentleman helping us out was attempting to give me his e-mail address.  I wasn’t sure if I heard him right, so naturally I read the address back to him…”m as in mom, p as in poop…”  I sh*t you not, I said “p as in poop” as if that was the association any normal human being would make.  Then I start laughing so hard I thought I was going to p as in pee.

I don’t know which is worse; the notion that this man believes that I am a moron or that he believes I am a complete nutjob.  If only I could shut off the part of the brain that cares about what other people think.

by Samantha Brill

How do you spell…

As a teacher in high school I had many moments that made the day go by fast.  One in particular has always stayed with me.

I was teaching my students how to write a fable in junior English class.  I explained that a fable must have animal characters that have human traits.  We read several famous fables and I told them that the fable must also teach a moral lesson.

They began to ask questions about the assignment.  When is it due?  How long does it have to be?  Can it have any animal in it?  I answered the last question that they could choose any animal they wanted to.  Then, from one poor little student, who always seemed to be slower than a teen age girl getting ready for prom, came the question.  Could he write about a gorilla?

Yes, I said.

Oh, he said. How do you spell gorilla?

Before I could answer, from the back of the room came out the answer as T-E-A-C-H-E-R.

Did You Fart?

From my experience, it is worse to be asked if you farted and didn’t, than to be asked if you farted and did.

Another day in Paradise

Despite the title of this post, yesterday was horrible. I’ll start at the beginning…

I was scheduled to work at eight o’clock so me and my ride went to Subway. We were there on time, but that didn’t make a difference. No one was there. It took twenty minutes for my boss to arrive. She apologized and noted that she had driven halfway here and then realized that she left the keys back home, so she had to turn around and make the trip again.

I don’t remember exactly what I was doing, but shortly after I started working my boss, who is actually the Regional Manager, came by and asked if I could watch the front while she went to the bank. Watching the front is the manager’s way of saying “If anyone comes in deal with them.” I’m not sure if I said I would or not, but every bit of me inside was screaming No! I am new. What did she expect? Yesterday was like my fifth day of work. Did she expect me to know everything by then?

Anyway, my boss left and I was at the store alone. ALONE! I admit I wasn’t too worried at first because it’s a brand new store and I didn’t think anyone really realized that it was open already. Boy, was I wrong.

Right after my boss pulled out of the parking lot it hit. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! People were coming in by the hundreds…well not really, but the way I was feeling just then, it might as well have been a hundred people. It was more like seven or eight. But still, that’s enough to send a greenhorn crazy! Honestly!

I got through the first two customers with very little trouble, but once I got to the register, WOOSH, I hadn’t a clue how to ring up what he had ordered. Luckily the customer I was helping was really nice. I told him that I was new and he was perfectly alright with that. He said “We’ve all been there before.” I got really embarrassed when I accidentally put steak on his sandwich instead of roast beef. -Well they look exactly the same! He told me that I had made a mistake, very politely, and then I fixed it. The rest of the line looked at me funny when my face turned bright red and I started apologizing. I could almost hear their thoughts as I worked my way down the counter with the sandwich. Argh!

Fortunately my boss showed up just as my register problems started happening. I was glad she had returned, but the fact that she was upset with me didn’t improve the way I was feeling. In fact it got worse. I did my best to just keep smiling and I pretended like I knew what I was doing and actually I came to realize that I knew a lot more then I thought I did.

My boss never yelled at me or wrapped her hands around my throat, but I could tell she was upset. The look on her face when I asked all those questions was one of pure acrimony. As the day trudged along, however, her mood lightened up. Soon after the rush, she was laughing and joking just as if this morning never happened. For that I was grateful.

My ride picked me up at four o’clock and we headed home. As she drove I related my awful experience of work. I also told her that despite the horrid nature of my morning, I was glad for it. Why was I glad? Because now I had something to Blog about. Isn’t that sad? My life is so utterly boring that it has to be made abhorrent in order for it to be interesting.

Anyway, about the title. My day reminded me of a quote I once read and it goes as follows: Through clever and constant application of propaganda, people can be made to see paradise as hell, and the other way round, to consider the most wretched sort of life as paradise. …Yeah, I never was a big fan of Adolf Hitler. But he is right. If a Richvillian (….I hope you don’t mind if I just start making up words for you-) were to see a pauper and how wonderful their life really was (should that be the case) then they would see their “paradise” as a sort of hell. And were the pauper to see the Richvillian’s life he may think just the opposite. Life is strange. Why is it that we always want what we don’t have?

Julia Willis

Too Young for Grey Hair

It was a time when I questioned who I was and if I should go on living to see what I would become. It would have been easy to hit rock-bottom, but my mom offered her hand…and her credit card. I’m talking about the time I accidentally dyed my hair gray.

I’ve been a chemically dependent blonde for a few years. Every six weeks my hair becomes a famous miniseries based on an Alex Haley epic. Read: Roots. All’s fair in love and hair, but one summer I decided to flirt with the dark side. I love chocolatey brown hair, but know I couldn’t achieve it without succumbing to another chemical dependency that could be even more grueling.

I settled for ash brown. The woman on the hair dye box looked blondish, but darker. I liked. This way, I could make a change that wouldn’t seem dramatic to anyone but me. I dyed my hair late at night. My mom, sister, and I had plans to go shopping the next day, so I rinsed my hair, conditioned it, and went to bed. It appeared to be light brown.

I can only imagine what I looked like lying in bed the next morning: birds chirping, suburban dogs barking, and light shining in from the window. The rays of sunlight shone on my sleeping face – freckles dotting my cheeks and nose, dark lashes crunchy with sleep, lips dry and slightly parted, hair as gray as steel wool.

Minutes later, I sat up, saw myself in a mirror, gasped, put in my contacts, and gasped again. My hair wasn’t ash brown. It was just plain ASH. Had the fires still been lit, I’d have jumped in and let the whole thing burn.

I screeched for my mom, instead of leaving my bedroom to seek her. No need to freak her out. I’ve seen the movie Big. I know how terrifying it must be to see your teenage daughter morphed into a geriatric woman.

My mom came in and God bless her, she didn’t laugh. I looked older than her! (She clearly knows to respect her elders). My mom told me to wash my hair again and consulted my sister, Megan.

I rinsed and pulled and cursed and repeated. I checked the shower drain for gray run-off. No such luck.

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Child “Robs” Town and Steals Hearts

Confession. (I would have never started this writing project, if it weren’t for my youngest daughter’s insistence. Since then, it has kind of grown and taken on a life of its own.)

Megan has asked about various versions her older siblings give of being raised in a picturesque rural mining town, high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. As pristine as this setting would first seem, it had its own unique set of challenges. Guess I should have mentioned , it was a mining town. Six months after we moved there, the mine closed. Up until a week before the closing was announced, the local paper continued to run articles saying that information about the mine closing was only “rumor.” Instantly, the miners who could afford it, moved. Those with businesses in town, found it more difficult to pull up stakes.

Some who were crazy people, or those who didn’t know better–like myself and my husband, attempted to tough it out. The beauty of the state’s highest peaks at our door-step, clean crisp air, a variety of hunting, hiking, camping and fishing sites all proved to be a wonderful temptation that we were too weak-willed to resist.

Every paradise has its price. My husband and I had just bought property-several sites in town, including our house. With four small children our options were limited. We didn’t have enough money to move out. There was no market for selling property, either. When my husband and I met, in Los Angeles in the late 60’s we were even more broke than we were at this time. Although he liked to think of himself as an actor, most of his friends found gainful employment as stage-hands or “grips.” When we moved to Colorado, he kept in touch with his agent and various connections back in the L of A. As we became acquainted around town, we either volunteered–or were volunteered for various group activities.

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Am I Smart Enough?

Today was a day that stretched my mental and intelligence limit. It was a day whereby the creams of the crops come to compete to become the cream of the cream. For those who are successful, they get a huge reward. And that is allowing their school fees to be completely waived for the rest of their secondary and junior college life.

Today was the scholarship test for integrated programme students. It was an experience I felt around 6 years back when I took this test to see if I qualified for a higher form of education (GEP, Gifted Education Programme is what we call in Singapore) and I failed terribly. Now here I am back again taking a similar kind of test hoping for the best so as to save money on school fees. The experience was actually not too bad, just stressful.

The test consisted of 7 sections, each containing around 15 – 25 questions. Areas which are tested are students’ intelligence quota, math and English knowledge. I sucked in English, am careless in math, and average in IQ tests. Time given per section is around 10 mins and if you divide it up you get only around 30 sec per question. I know you are feeling the pressure now. For me, it was like defusing a bomb just that if the bomb blows up, I have to pay for the damages the bomb did and will not die. To make it worst, I felt like peeing throughout the test. Therefore, adding on to the analogy would be that not only did I have to defuse the bomb, I had to cope with the urge to pee. Excitement, anxiety is what I felt throughout the test.

The time given was simply too little. The questions are definitely tough, the time given is extremely little, and for me I had to refrain myself from letting loose of my bladder. Still, I lasted through the 1 hour plus test duration and am a survivor. The test was okay, tough at times and easy at others. But if you asked me how confident I am to become the cream of the cream of the crops, I would say not at all.

I know, when there is a will there is a way. But you just have to accept the fact that, sometimes no matter how much confidence you have, will as much as you may, some things just cannot be done. Not everything is possible, it is a fact.

I learnt a few important lessons from this experience. First is to always good to the toilet before any major events, even if you do not have the urge to, just go and try to release as much as you can. Second, take life easy and do not feel disappointed if what you hope for is not possible to be archive. Lastly, do your best.

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