Joke 640

Santa and moose (Photo credit: Jenny P.)

Ron at Scrambled, Not Fried has generously allowed me to lift this intact from his blog.  I would have re-blogged it but I don’t know how to schedule a re-blog and, much as I love Christmas, I’m not getting up at four in the morning to tell a joke.

13 Little-Known Holiday Factoids

1. Christmas, as we know it today, was invented in 1596. Prior to that year, it was celebrated much like we celebrate Arbor Day today, but without the reverence for trees.
2. The first three “Yule Logs” burned down the dwellings in which they were burned. The name has been shortened over the years from the saying, “Yule” die if you bring one of those things into the house.
3. Santa never eats the cookies kids leave out for him. He collects them and donates them as gifts to local soup kitchens. (Keep ‘em coming, kids!)
4. Most elves are Lithuanian.
5. Before marrying, Mrs. Claus was a dental hygienist but left that career to become a Vegas Showgirl. This is where she first met Santa.
6. Santa was (and remains) a “chubby chaser.” He showed no interest in his current wife until she quit her Vegas job and put on about 50 pounds.
7. Santa has five children: four boys and a beautiful daughter named Belinda.
8. Modern “Egg Nog” is primarily nog, with only a hint of synthetic egg flavoring.
9. Santa has NEVER brought anyone a semi-automatic weapon for Christmas. These are invariably purchased by friends or family members, and are only labeled “From Santa” in an effort to avoid potential liability.
10. A gift is a gift. Wrapping paper is a multi-million dollar racket.
11. The feces of flying reindeer can burn a hole in your roof. House fires reported around Christmas time are often blamed on faulty wiring, dry trees, etc., but are more usually caused by Blitzen, who suffers from chronic diarrhea.
12. There are really only 9 Days Of Christmas. Three days were tacked on as a mass-marketing ploy.
13. Santa has suffered repeated hernias. His favorite joke is to say that carrying that big bag of toys around is the ‘real’ Nutcracker.

 

Joke 639

Kris with huge christmas dinner (Photo credit: mrlerone)

What’s the most popular Christmas wine?

‘I don’t like Brussels sprouts!’

Husband (in all fairness, not mine):

A man who buys his football tickets four months in advance and waits until 24 December to do his Christmas shopping.

What do you call a bunch of Grandmasters of chess bragging about their games in a hotel lobby?

Chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.

What do you call Santa’s helpers?

Subordinate Clauses.

What goes Ho, Ho, Swoosh, Ho, Ho, Swoosh?

Santa caught in a revolving door.

What goes oh oh oh?

Santa walking backwards.

What’s it called when Father Christmas takes a rest?

Santa Pause

Who delivers presents to baby sharks at Christmas?

Santa Jaws

Who sings ‘White Christmas’ then explodes?

Bang Crosby

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Be naughty – save Santa the trip.

From manwalksintoajoke.

Father Christmas, My Son

In an Ideal World, Tory Boy would be Santa Claus.

Oh, wait, he is:

Tory Boy works as an assistant producer for Ideal World shopping channel; an excellent training ground for his future career in politics, getting people to buy what they neither want or need, but it looks good and they talk a great game, so why not?

The presenters needed a Father Christmas; Tory Boy volunteered.  He had great fun ho-ho-hoing around the studio, playing with the toys.

He sent us a text to let us know he was going to be in front of the camera.   As he lives darn sarf and we haven’t seen him in months, we sat down, excited, to watch.

We cringed with embarrassment.  So did one of the presenters, who made a point of pointing them out: Tory Boy was wearing shoes he bought six years ago, when he was still at school.  We could smell them from several hundred miles away.

I hope he’s added new shoes to his list, so he can bring himself some.

We tried to replace those shoes last Christmas, over my loud and lengthy protests.  The Hub was convinced Tory Boy would love the new pair we bought him.  I was not.

To my joy – it almost never happens – the Hub was wrong; Tory Boy thought they were dreadful.  My joy was short-lived – Tory Boy thought they were dreadful; we ruined his Christmas.  What terrible parents we are.  We bought him lots of other stuff but he didn’t like one of his presents.  We ruined his Christmas. What terrible parents we are.

Maybe my son, Father Christmas, can bring himself a new father for Christmas.

Just a new father: it’s a lot harder to replace a mother.  Especially when she’s clinging to your trouser legs and begging you not to leave her to go off to work/university/school/any place she can’t be with you.

In an ideal world, husbands would always be wrong and my children would still need me.  I hope Father Christmas can sort that out this year.  Failing that, I’ll have to undercook the turkey – nothing says ‘I need you, Mummy,’ like food poisoning.  

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The legal stuff:  The first two images are of Ideal World and the transmission belongs to them.

The kid in the red suit and scruffy shoes is mine.  

 

Joke 633

From kraftmstr.com

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The story of how the angel got on top of the Christmas Tree

 

One Christmas things weren’t going too well for Santa up there at the North Pole.

Mrs. Claus was sick, the elves were on strike and the reindeer all had diarrhoea.

Santa was totally frazzled.

In the midst of all this an angel came in with the tree and asked Santa,”Where would you like me to put this?”

Joke 631

Some Christmas quotes from searchquotes.  If no source is given the quote is anonymous.

• Santa reads your Facebook status…he’s getting you a dictionary for Christmas.  
• If a fat man puts you in a bag at night, don’t worry: I told Santa I wanted you for Christmas.  
• Mail your packages early so the post office can lose them in time for Christmas.   Johnny Carson
• On the 12th Day of Christmas my Facebook gave to me, 12 dudes I’m blocking, 11 friends just watching, 10 corny topics, 9 busted barbies, 8 friends complaining, 7 stalkers stalking, 6 party invites, Fiiiiiiiiiiiiive Drama Queeeensssss, 4 game requests, 3 photo tags, 2 friends-a-pokin & a creep who won’t stop inboxing meeee!   
• Look, yet another Christmas TV special! How touching to have the meaning of Christmas brought to us by cola, fast food, and beer…Who’d have ever guessed that product consumption, popular entertainment and spirituality would mix so harmoniously?  Bill Watterson
• What I don’t like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day.  

This next one is so sad, I had to put it in the middle so you didn’t leave here in tears.

Shirley Temple:

• I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.

Back to the funny:

• Anyone who believes that men are the equal of women has never seen a man trying to wrap a Christmas present.   
• Santa Claus has the right idea. Visit people once a year.  Victor Borge
• Let me see if I’ve got this Santa business straight. You say he wears a beard, has no discernible source of income and flies to cities all over the world under cover of darkness? You sure this guy isn’t laundering illegal drug money?  Tom Armstrong
• Don’t ever worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all 30 feet tall.  Larry Wilde
• Christmas is the season when you buy this year’s gifts with next year’s money.  

Joke 629

Jonathan G. Meath as Santa Claus. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What do reindeer say before they tell a joke?

This will sleigh you.

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Where does Santa go swimming?

The North Pool.

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Joke 625

A joke by comedian Catherine Tate.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Who’s the bane of Santa’s life?

The elf and safety officer.

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Joke 620

These are from Christmasjokes.co.uk.

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Reindeer by Bortusk Leer (Photo credit: Nick Saltmarsh)

Father Christmas has two reindeer. One named Edward; and another named Edward.  

Because two Eds are better than one.

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How do you make a slow reindeer fast ?

Don’t feed it.

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And an old one, to make you feel like you just shared a cheap Christmas cracker with me:

How do you get four reindeer in a car? 

Two in the front and two in the back.

And how do you get four polar bears in a car? 

Take out the reindeer first.

Joke 466

Grandma’s Class (Photo credit: Henthorn)

Thanks to benzeknees for this one.

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GREAT TRUTHS LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED:

1) No matter how hard you try, you can’t baptize cats.
2) When your Mom is mad at your Dad, don’t let her brush your hair.
3) If your sister hits you, don’t hit her back. They always catch the second person.
4) Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a tomato.
5) You can’t trust dogs to watch your food.
6) Don’t sneeze when someone is cutting your hair.
7) Never hold a Dust-Buster and a cat at the same time.
8) You can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
9) Don’t wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts.
10) The best place to be when you’re sad is Grandma’s lap.

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GREAT TRUTHS ADULTS HAVE LEARNED:

1) Raising teenagers is like nailing jelly to a tree.
2) Wrinkles don’t hurt.
3) Families are like fudge…mostly sweet, with a few nuts.
4) Today’s mighty oak is just yesterday’s nut that held its ground.
5) Laughing is good exercise. It’s like jogging on the inside.
6) Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the toy.

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Santa Claus? (Photo credit: Luca Venturi Oslo)

 

THE FOUR STAGES OF LIFE:

1) You believe in Santa Claus.
2) You don’t believe in Santa Claus.
3) You are Santa Claus.
4) You look like Santa Claus.

 

 

 

SUCCESS:
At age 4 success is…Not piddling in your pants.
At age 12 success is…Having friends.
At age 17 success is…Having a driver’s license.
At age 35 success is…Having money.
At age 50 success is…Having money.
At age 70 success is…Having a drivers license.
At age 75 success is…Having friends.
At age 80 success is…Not piddling in your pants.

Joke 269

Why is Christmas like a day at the office?

You do all the hard work and the fat bloke in the suit gets all the credit.

Joke 259

You have three days left to submit your Christmas cartoon or joke.  If you win and it’s funny enough, I might even send you your Maltesers unopened.

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What do you get if you cross Father Christmas with a detective?

Santa Clues.

Joke 254

An honest politician, a kind banker and Santa Claus were walking down the street and saw a £20 note.  Which one picked it up?

Santa.  The other two don’t exist.

A Short History Of Tilly Bud In Arcanian

Image via Wikipedia

ar·cane  /ɑrˈkeɪn/ adjective

known or understood by very few
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Write a power sentence for every year of your life.

This is a surprisingly good prompt so I’m going to take it seriously. 

If you believe that, you must be new here.

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1963: I am born in Liverpool, England; President Kennedy is assassinated in Dallas, America.  I’m not saying there’s a connection, but…

1964: I am one year old.  The Hub is born.  My life as a cougar is pre-destined.

1965: My younger brother is born; I learn to wet my pants for attention.

1966: England win the World Cup.  I’m three. I don’t even know what England is, never mind the World Cup; but I am English, and no one can mention 1966 without reminding everyone that England won the World Cup.  It’s the law.  I have started to read.  Star Trek is broadcast for the first time. My geekness is assured.

1967: The 25th Amendment to the United States Constitution is ratified.  I will know nothing of this until President Bartlet’s daughter Zoe is kidnapped and he steps down from office to ensure America cannot be held to ransom.  I have not yet learned to separate fact from fiction.

1968: Something about The Beatles creating Apple; my lifelong abhorrence of insects in fruit is born.

1969: My parents move over the water to Wallasey and open a little grocery shop.

1970: They remember to come back for us.  Our massive Bakelite phone in the stockroom rings; it is a call from Father Christmas.  I have never forgotten it. He has.  Last time I took the boys to see him, I mentioned it and how happy he made me that day, and he looked baffled.

1971: KwikSave open a store just up the road; my parents think about selling up. Profits are down.  I don’t tell them it’s not the supermarket competition, it’s because I send my younger brother into the stock room every night to steal crisps for me.  Laura Ingalls models the character of Nellie Olsen on my younger brother’s big sister.

1972: My family moves to Runcorn.  I have a black & white Runcorn Weekly News photograph to prove it.  Not a lot happens in Runcorn.

1973: I am still living in Runcorn.  Marc Bolan dies.  You join the dots.  I have no sense of time.

1974: Abba win the Eurovision Song Contest with Waterloo and I love it; I have taken my first step on the road to being the uncoolest girl in school.

1975: Unemployment exceeds one million in Britain. Happy days.  The first public performance by The Sex Pistols.  An unknown Hub takes the first step on the road to being the coolest boy in school.  David Beckham is born.

1976: UK drought.  Midges everywhere.  Plagues of ladybirds.  The hottest summer in living memory.  I store the memories because it hasn’t stopped raining since. I have an Abba poster on my bedroom wall.  I am not embarrassed to tell people this.

1977: The Queen’s Silver Jubilee.  The women in our street work for a year playing bingo to raise funds for a street party.  I attend each weekly bingo session with my Mum, who pays all my fees.  When I win a bread board and give it to the first of my elder brother’s many wives, my Mum is a little miffed.  Clearly, she could see into the future and knew that bread board was going to have a temporary home at best.  Marc Bolan dies for real this time.  No one finds that suspicious.

1978: Ethiopia declares the West German Ambassador persona non grata.  Everyone is surprised to learn the Ethiopians speak Latin.

1979:  I am sixteen.  I am sweet.  Literally: my father slices me open and finds I have a malt centre covered in milk chocolate where my stomach used to be.

1980: I become politically aware, rather like SkyNet (or was that self-aware?).  This is not a good thing.  Rather like SkyNet.  The Empire Strikes Back is released.  John Lennon is assassinated. Coincidence…?

1981:  I turn eighteen.  My parents throw me the best party of my generation, all booze supplied free of charge.  To my eighteen year old friends, that’s all that’s needed to qualify for the best party of my generation.  I don’t drink a drop of it, being a good Christian girl.  I finally get tipsy for the first time, three months later, on Christmas Eve.  I fall over a wall and into my house and can’t stop giggling for a week.  I finally see The Empire Strikes Back.  With my Dad, who isn’t talking to my Mum and needs an excuse to get out of the house.

1982: I emigrate to South Africa with my parents and younger brother, much against my will. I sulk.  I meet the Hub on my second day in my new country.  We row a lot.  I could end the story of my life there, because not much has changed.

Related articles

• SkyNET Is Real, And It’s Hunting Your Router (escapistmagazine.com)
• Runcorn Town (thegroundhog.wordpress.com)
• http://tinman18.wordpress.com/2011/09/07/tinman-year-upon-year-part-1/
• http://tinman18.wordpress.com/2011/09/08/tinman-year-upon-year-part-2/
• http://mairedubhtx.wordpress.com/2011/09/03/power-sentences/

A Tilly Bud Family Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

Do you think I'm a little under-dressed?

It’s the first of December and I’m in the holiday spirit.  We woke up this morning to discover Jack Frost had replaced the mild(ish) but wet weather with ice and the car was frozen to the driveway.  Therefore, I thought I would start this month with a description of our Christmas.  It is always the same, only the gifts change.

 

January 2

Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations.  Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.

January 3

Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas).  Queue for two hours to get into car park.  Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.

February 3

Weep over credit card statement.

March 13

Tilly Bud’s nagging finally coincides with the Hub’s first good day of the year and Christmas decorations are returned to the loft after standing in the upstairs hallway for two months.

NB Now that we have had loft ladders fitted, the nagging is reversed and the Hub insists I drag my lazy backside up there and put away the decorations that I wanted down in the first place.

September onwards

Christmas adverts start on telly.  Ignore them while applying sun block for Indian summer.  Ignore the Hub complaining, ‘I hate Christmas, I do.’  Complain to everyone else I know about how Christmas comes earlier each year but don’t mention the suitcase full of presents we already have stashed away.

Fourth Saturday before Christmas

Begin watching Christmas movies on Saturday afternoons to get in the festive mood: It’s A Wonderful Life; While You Were Sleeping; Sleepless In Seattle; Terminator 2 (if you’ve been present at some of our Christmas Dinners you’ll get the connection); and the greatest Christmas movie ever made: A Muppet Christmas Carol.  Begin boasting to harrassed friends about the suitcase full of presents we have stashed away that means our Christmas shopping is complete before anyone else has even started.

December 1

Make list of Christmas cleaning jobs.  Stretch out on couch to recover, watching a naff Christmas special on tv.  Start hinting to the Hub that we must get the tree down from the loft.

December 11

Get tree down from the loft.  Put on cheesy Christmas music to get everyone in the mood.  Argue about cheesy Christmas music.  Erect tree.  Argue.  Dress tree with lights and tinsel with boys.  Take boys off tree.  Take lights and tinsel off tree.

Watch the Hub dress tree with lights and tinsel in the correct manner.  Sulk.

Share decorations equally between family.  Spend ages arguing about who has the most/least/best/yuckiest decorations.

Collapse exhausted into bed.

December 12

Clear up yesterday’s mess.  Accidentally vacuum half the tinsel left dangling after yesterday’s fist fight over who has the most/least/best/yuckiest decorations.

Christmas Eve

Lunch time: take flowers to Dad’s grave.  Miss him.

Ten minutes after lunchtime: open the first bottle of wine/tin of chocolates/box of biscuits.

Send excited children to bed on the one night of the year they want to go at six p.m.  Spend next eight hours telling them, ‘Santa won’t come until you go to sleep, darlings.’ (Translation: ‘Get to sleep now, you little brats; we’re knackered!’)

Cook turkey and other meat; prepare vegetables.  Stay up till two a.m. to welcome Santa.  Go to bed, leaving on all lights to deter burglars without a Christmas spirit.

Struggle to sleep.  Wake up every three minutes hearing noises that indicate burglars.  Wake growling Hub to send him downstairs to check for burglars.  Have huge argument with the Hub who not only refuses to go and check for burglars but turns over and goes back to sleep.  Lie awake until six a.m, listening for burglars and worrying about the waste of electricity.

Christmas Day

Six-O-Three: woken by the excited chatter of two children raiding their stockings.

Six-O-Five: recover from winding caused by excited children jumping into bed to demand we all go downstairs for presents.

Six-O-Seven: set up video camera to tape every magical moment.

Seven-O-Seven: finally accede to the Hub’s assertion that it might be Tilly Bud’s camera, which he knows because he bought it for her, but trust him, he knows what he’s doing and can set it up perfectly well, thank you very much; and stop that sulking, you misery, to which children add, Yeah, Mum.

Seven-O-Eight: film delight on boys’ faces as they enter Santa’s grotto (temporarily set up in living room).

Seven-Fifteen: start unwrapping presents, taking turns so that everyone sees what everyone else has got and thanks can be given and received.

Ten-Fifteen: finish unwrapping presents.  Make traditional Christmas breakfast of toast so that everyone has a stomach lining before inevitable munching of Christmas goodies begins.

Ten-Sixteen: send exhausted Hub to bed for a few hours.

Ten-Thirty: everyone not sleeping, dresses.  Boys disappear to their rooms to play with their new toys, leaving Tilly to clean up.  Tilly stretches out on empty couch with Maltesers and one of her new dvds, ignoring mess.  Thinks about starting dinner.  Snores.

Two-Fifteen: wake Hub to give his stomach time to prepare to eat large Christmas dinner.

Four-Fifteen: eat large Christmas dinner.

Rest of day: rest.

December 29

Discover unticked list of Christmas cleaning jobs tucked down back of couch.  Discard.

January 2

Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations.  Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.

January 3

Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas).  Queue for two hours to get into car park.  Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.