Whack Report

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

My family loves to exchange gag gifts every year at Christmas -- silly items like Chia Heads or a lump of coal. But about five years ago things turned pretty nasty.

Three months before Christmas, I detected a foul smell emanating from my laundry room. I discovered a rotting goose head inside a cabinet. Knowing who had placed it there (my brother, Scott, who's an avid hunter), I thought of an easy way to get back at him: I put the stinking head in the freezer and there it would keep until Christmas. When the jolly season arrived, I wrapped it lovingly, then presented it to Scott. We all had a laugh and I figured it would be thrown in the trash and forgotten. Not so.

I received the same rotting head the following year -- cleverly disguised in an Irish Spring soap box. Not to be outdone, I had to come up with an even nastier gag gift for Scott than this old stinking goose head. I had a Black Lab with a nasty habit of drooling all over everyone. Scott in particular had always been disgusted by the dog's drooling ways. For a full 6 months, I painstakingly collected this drool inside a Listerine bottle and proudly presented this gift to him for Christmas. Scott was confused that this bottle of Cool Mint Listerine wasn't the classic blue, but instead had a dingy, frothy brown hue. He almost barfed when I told him what it was, and he had to admit it was the nastiest gag gift so far.

Poor old Ma had received the rotted goose head that year (now in its third year of circulation and quite ripe) and apparently wasn't amused since it hasn't been seen since.

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

Today's true story was sent in by Matt Cleinman of Arlington, MA...

I was at a Regional Boy Scout event a couple of weekends ago. This event is traditionally the last event of the Region Chief (of a Scouting's National Honor Society). Consequently, the Region Chief (a youth) gives gifts to his advisers, and his advisers give him some gifts as well.

So the Region Chief was making the presentation to his staff adviser (a staff adviser by definition is a "professional" Scouter). "I've worked with many professionals over my years, and I truly believe that you are one of the best I've ever worked with... I think you touch more boys than you realize."

Three minutes later when the room stopped laughing, the chief stammered, "I mean 'inspire.'"

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

Today's true story was sent in by T. Brown ...

When my mother and my stepfather got married, I was about twelve and my mother had been single since I was very little. They sent us away to friends' houses for their honeymoon, and we returned home a few weeks later.

My first night back, glad to be in my own bed after weeks of sleeping on somebody's flea-ridden floor, I noticed some strange noises issuing from the room next to mine- my mother's room. Never having heard anything like that before, I was terrified. My mother had Asthma, and it sounded like she was gasping for air.

Then I heard my new stepfather doing something to her, and that just scared me more. I was convinced that he was killing her, and that I would wake up in the morning with no mother; if I ever woke up at all. I lay in my bed a cried all night, scared to death that he was going to kill me and my brother next.

Imagine my surprise and chagrin when, not only was my mother alive the next morning, but she looked in excellent spirits. I asked her if she was okay, and got a weird look in return. So I explained the terrifying noises I thought had been her untimely death, and she started hysterically laughing.

I know a bit more -- NOW.

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

Today's true story was sent in by Stephanie Thompson...

I had two hilarious and often mischievous older brothers, who would learn dirty words on the bus and return home from school each day to teach them to their little sister.

One day, they got off the bus laughing harder than usual. They asked me, "Do you know what the word 'blowjob' means?" Of course, I didn't, and they weren't about to tell me what it meant either, even though I begged and pleaded for the answer.

I wandered off into the kitchen, where my mother was beating cake batter, and sat down at the table to ponder the meaning of this mysterious new word. As I sat thinking, my little doggy came trotting on into the kitchen. My little doggy, for whom I often made up silly little names. I said innocently, "C'mere, Blowjob!"

My poor mother dropped that cake bowl onto the floor, spun around and screamed, "Oh, my GOD!" My dad ran into the kitchen to see what the fuss was all about. Mom, still screaming, asked, "Did you HEAR what YOUR daughter just called the DOG?!" I had to repeat it, and by now had figured that I was in big trouble.

All my dad could do was cover his face and laugh his ass off. He called my brothers into the kitchen and tried to have a serious talk with them but it wasn't really working, as tears of laughter were streaming down his face. My mother was furious and I never did learn what that word meant until I was old enough to ride the bus to school myself.

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

Today's true story was sent in by Dave Goudsward...

I was working from home one day recently, and the phone was constantly ringing because somebody apparently had an autodialing fax machine repeatedly dialing my number.

Finally I get fed up and used *69 to trace the call. Then I used the Internet to discover that the fax machine was calling me from a doctor's office. I called the office, and suggested that they stop calling me.

I was about to leave the website where I found the number when I noticed that the doctor is a colorectal surgeon with the extraordinarily professional email account of ajrbuttdoc@_____.com.

Well, he certainly was a pain in mine.