I’m not talking about those $&*#% teenagers with so many piercings in their ears they have the aerodynamics of a Wiffle ball, who insist on driving past my office blasting their radios so loudly the bass causes my heart to defibrillate.

I’m talking about very young children, like my youngest daughter, who is so much like a tiny adult with her own little neuroses it’s like watching “Baby Seinfeld.”

She’s 20 months old, and she’s at the stage where every accomplishment is equally important to the entire family, whether it’s her first steps, the first time she said “gooblah,” or the first time she didn’t barf on me after drinking a whole bottle.

Each milestone she reaches is celebrated with over-the-top enthusiasm, each developmental first is applauded and cheered as if she single-handedly revised the US tax code with a Tiny Hands crayon and her stuffed rabbit.

And as she repeats each personal victory, she claps and screams wildly, hoping to recapture the heady joy usually reserved for Powerball winners and Olympic gold medalists.

It’s our fault, really. As good and loving parents, we shower both our daughters with hearty congratulations at their accomplishments, thus insuring they will pay for our stay in a first-class retirement home when the time comes.

But we may have created a monster in our youngest daughter. Now, with every jar of baby food she eats, every bottle she drinks, every near-perfect pronunciation of “Constantinople” she utters, my youngest protege will clap maniacally for herself, and yell for us to do the same.

“Daddy yaaaay!” She gets impatient and hollers at us if we wait more than 2 nanoseconds to follow suit. “Mommy yaaaay!”

So like good parents, we clap and yell “yaay” for our praise-oriented toddler.

You can imagine the corner we’ve painted ourselves into, now that our youngest daughter has started potty training. We’re in the beginning stages of this Herculean labor, so every victory must be thoroughly celebrated in order to reinforce the desired behavior (i.e. not peeing on Daddy’s new pants).

Needless to say, it was a banner day in the Deckers house the first time she “used the big girl potty.” The way we hollered and clapped, you would have thought the Indianapolis Colts had just won the Super Bowl and scored the winning touchdown in our own backyard.

Kevin Spacey would have handed me his Oscar after witnessing my performance at this amazing bodily function accomplishment. I leapt to my feet, smacked my hands together until they stung, and whooped and cheered so wildly, bystanders would have thought I was having a seizure and tried to keep me from biting my tongue.

And like any parent should be, I’m proud of my daughter. She’s one step closer to becoming a fully functioning adult. But I’m also ashamed to admit that my first thought was “Good, we’re one step closer to not changing her diapers in the middle of the night.”

Personally I think she got a bigger thrill than the rest of us, but it was still a proud moment for everyone involved. She was so excited by all this attention that if we hadn’t already stuck a diaper on her, she would have undone all her accomplishments right there on the bathroom floor.

Unfortunately we lose this sense of excitement and triumph as we grow older. Oh sure, there are those few shining moments we have while we’re growing up, like getting our driver’s license or graduating from high school. But once you hit six, it’s all over.

Maybe it’s because people have a higher set of standards for us when we hit kindergarten, or they just get tired of all the clapping and yelling, but no one goes nuts for our victories like they did when we were two.

No one claps for me when I run out of the office bathroom and shout, “Hey, I just went to the big boy potty.” In fact, people usually avoid me for the rest of the day.

No one yells “yaaay” or pats me on the head whenever I put things in correct alphabetical order or get all my numbers right. However, I have known people for whom this would be an appropriate response. No one did it for them either.

This is a shame, because in this day and age, people could really use the same level of encouragement that young children receive. But we become jaded and cynical as the years go by. We don’t even get that excited about our own accomplishments either — not the same way we did when we were little — and we’ve forgotten how excited we were when every little feat would drive our parents delirious with pride.

My Dad: Son, you’ve just become the first American humor writer to ever be knighted by the Queen of England and to receive the Medal of Honor in the same week. I’m proud of you.

Me: Thanks, Dad. It’s almost as cool as the first time I ever used the big boy potty. . . Daddy yaaaay!!

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Because it seems to me that every time I “run into” an old high school classmate, in particular a former jock or cheerleader, these people have no idea of the word ‘exercise.’ It’s like foreign to them.

Last week, I was out at a bar, a place that I find myself in many of my columns. Two gentlemen, that I gathered went to high school with me, approached me with wide eyes and bushy tails. Wait, that was Thumper from Bambi. They approached me with bitter sweet expressions. For one thing, it was nice for them to see I was still alive. Or maybe they were happy for being correct when they voted me as “Class clown.” That was the sweet part.

The bitter part came when they realized soon enough that I haven’t changed since high school… literally. I’m still wearing my Air Force bomber jacket with a sewn on patch of Ice Man from Top Gun and my six pocket (five on the outside and one hidden to carry a rabbit’s foot and some spare lint) parachute pants that were handed down from my older brother just after he exited the break dancing stage. Of course I kid about wearing those pants; rather they’re in my closet awaiting a special occasion.

This was bitter to them because, like every other jock or cheerleader I’ve run into, they too became victim of weight gain and occasional hair loss. There must be some unwritten rule that if you’re popular in high school, you must completely let yourself go once the final convocation begins.

Here’s the scene: “Tanamor, you haven’t changed since high school.” “(INSERT JOCK’S NAME), you have. You gained some weight, loss a little on top.” Apparently I read the entry wrong. It must have said, “Most likely to recede.” And not, “Most likely to succeed.” “What are you doing now?” they would ask in unison. “I’m a writer and comedian. You (plural)?” “I work at a gas station. And (INSERT JOCK’S NAME) works for his dad in the termite business.”

I used to get upset when people say I haven’t changed since school. I eat healthy, I exercise and I read something every day, three things that weren’t even on the agenda in high school. Back then, all I cared about was getting laid so I didn’t have to masturbate anymore, getting this zit off my nose so I can get laid so I didn’t have to masturbate anymore, and working to raise money for expensive prescribed zit medication so I can get this zit off my nose so I can get laid so I didn’t have to masturbate anymore. Lots of so’s in that last paragraph, which is why I find myself saying, “I’m so-so,” all the time.

But having seen what happens to people if you play football, baseball and basketball in high school, I hold back any frustration when I’m told, “You haven’t changed since high school.” Because to them, it appears I haven’t.

I think this is the main reason why we have high school reunions every five years. It’s to reinforce these pathetic jocks’ lives, because they really have nothing to look forward to. It’s their opportunity to see who else has gained weight and lost hair. These are really the only people that go to high school reunions, because everybody else has something to do.

If someone like me ever ends up at a high school reunion, there would be way too many, “I didn’t even know you were in my class,” going around. That would take away from all the, “You look great. You haven’t changed a bit.” (Note: These are all lies jocks and cheerleaders say to one another. Because the truth hurts.)

But it’s actually great to see these old classmates. They make me look 100 times more attractive, and more importantly, it seems that if you’re in a business such as mine, people want to hang out with you, which is great for me because, as Jerry Seinfeld once said, “If you can make people laugh, you can get them to do whatever you want.”

And if you’re wondering, I wrote this column but I had (JOCK’S NAME) type it. That to me is worth the tassel.

The post Life Doesn’t End After High School appeared first on Just Laugh.

“We’ve got some big plans for the near future,” Internet President and CEO Al Gore began, “but the enormous scale of our modifications simply can’t be portrayed accurately without disturbing the lives of millions of individuals, both public and private. Everything has its price, but trust me when I tell you that this price will certainly be worth the wait.”

The conference continued to discuss various multimedia features which will be included in the next version of The Internet, ranging from “click and smell surfing” to a new and sophisticated, completely user-generated 3d realm in which users can interact with one another and create online “relationships” or sit alone in a realistic, computer-generated basement exploring a computer-generated version of The Internet. Questions relating this particular new feature to the unsuccessful VRML format of the late ’90s were skillfully avoided.

Attempting to discover some of the more business-oriented updates to sweep Silicon Valley led to the discouraging response, “Although many requests have been made for improvements to The Internet that are actually both useful and meaningful to society as a whole, we just can’t see such upgrades being implemented any time in the near future,” Chief Developmental Officer William Jameson reported. “Our previous market research has explicitly proven that the majority of our users have no desire to experience these types of features, which allows us to focus on entertainment-based methods of taking their money, including online casinos, sporting events, and even interactive pay-per-screw brothels, for adults only of course! We’re not quite sure on the interface for the last one yet, but we’re definitely well on our way to figuring this one out…”

Finally, representatives from The Internet answered the one question everyone had – when and how long will we be affected by these updates? “Even though we’d like to say that the average user won’t be affected at all,” Chief Online Technical Support Assistant Gregory Labine explained, “it would be a total lie and I’m trying to steer away from that. The truth is that The Internet will be down and completely unavailable to anyone and everyone, with the exception of Bill Gates, for random periods throughout normal business hours this summer. It might be down for just a few minutes while you’re hurrying to check your e-mail during your lunch break, or it could be down for the entire day, forcing you to handwrite all of those purchase orders yourself! We’re not really concerned about the whole thing because pretty much everyone just uses The Internet to look at pornography, which they shouldn’t be doing at work anyways. If anything, these outages should HELP productivity in the workplace…”

“Besides, what the hell are they going to do about it, anyways?” CEO Gore joked. “Call tech support?!?!? That’s a good one…” The conference soon wrapped up as it became clear that the laughter among The Internet employees wasn’t going to settle down any time soon.

Rolling online blackouts and periods of no service are expected to begin as soon as early July, so users are encouraged to ‘Go outside, you pasty-faced geek’ until services resume. Severe losses in adult entertainment sections and a considerable increase in the sale of suntan lotion and deodorant are predicted. Residents are being asked to avoid interacting with affected victims until they are able to get used to sunlight again…

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What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor
Early in the morning?

Signed,
Basil
Cheddar, England

Savannah Says:

I don’t understand this. What can it mean? Broncho wants, nay demands, that I pay his hospitalization costs. It’s a very perplexing development.

To explain (for those of you who aren’t Fan Club members and therefore didn’t get this news bulletin earlier), Broncho fell off my roof last week while installing my new DirecTV satellite dish. Luckily, he was virtually finished with the job when the accident occurred, and I’ve been enjoying over 100 channels of high quality entertainment with crystal-clear digital reception for the past several days. It really helped take my mind off poor Broncho’s condition.

He broke his collarbone, and I had Elizabeth take him immediately to the emergency room where, seven-and-a-half hours later he was seen by a doctor. Unfortunately, they don’t have DirecTV at the hospital, so Broncho was not able to enjoy watching the TCM John Wayne marathon consisting of True Gritfollowed by Rooster Cogburn and rounded out with The Shootist, which made me bawl my eyes out as it always does. The man deserved that Oscar.

Anyway, now that Broncho’s back home at the hacienda, he gently informed me that I should submit a “Worker’s Compensation” claim to cover his accident. Actually, what he said was, “You’ll pay for this.”

After all I’ve done for him.

But back to your question, Basil.

Do many English men share your fascination with drunken sailors? I’ve heard you Brits are randy, but I’ve yet to plant a flag on your territory, so to speak.

Your letter omits many details. However, I think we can safely assume the following, based on little clues and inferences you’ve given us: you and the sailor are naked, or nearly so; you’ve woken up in a compromising position; the sailor is not all that attractive; you have a severe headache; you’re not sure where you are; the sailor is still asleep and snoring loudly; the gasthaus provides only a single, communal toilet down the hall and you think you’re going to be sick and aren’t sure if you can sprint down there in time, given how dizzy you feel and the fact you can’t find your robe, lingerie, or any stitch of clothing to don before you burst into the hallway. Is that a fairly accurate picture, Basil? I’ve never been in this situation before, so I’m just guessing.

Setting aside the issue of hangover, the first thing you should do is quietly rifle through the sailor’s personal effects to find out who he is and whether or not he has a substantial amount of cash on him. If he is of a respectable rank, then you can safely wait around for him to awaken and take you to brunch. If he’s an ensign or something, then you’d better gather up your belongings as quickly as possible and sneak out unnoticed. Also, it’s wise to check for a wedding band, whether on his finger or in his pants pocket. If you do find one, the classy thing to do is to quietly leave the premises and call his wife from a phone in the lobby to let her know where to find her husband. She’ll appreciate this gesture.

Naturally, these guidelines apply only during times of peace. During wartime, you should refer to the Geneva Convention, section 82, paragraph 12(a)5, subsection “C,” which clearly delineates the rights and responsibilities of both sides during a romantic tete-a-tete. It’s also helpful to refer to old, black-and-white war movies, such as In Harm’s Way and From Here to Eternity for guidance.

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

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“I was visiting my 12 year old nephew (Carl) and was given his bed to sleep on,” said Hubler. It was soon revealed that the comfort Hubler found was due to the high volume of nudie magazines Carl had buried under his mattress.

“My parents would have never found the magazines if it weren’t for my Uncle’s stupid back,” commented Carl, bitter about the spankings he received and vowed to take revenge.

This discovery has led Hubler to purchase more than 25 Playboys, just to support his theory about the nudie magazines.

“They have to be nudie magazines, because I’ve already tried Field and Stream and various sports mags,” said Hubler, who is now convinced he has a porn addiction.

But to Hubler, a porn addiction is more bearable than constant back pain.

As for his nephew Carl, he’s been grounded until further notice and has had his nudie magazines taken away. He now complains of back pain.

A nationwide study is being conducted in result of Hubler’s findings.

The post Cured Back Pain Results in Unlikely Discovery appeared first on Just Laugh.

At the moment, my life is in a state of chaotic disarray.

Two weeks ago, my family and I moved into a one hundred year old house, which has to be completely remodeled.

Richard and I are restoring the house daily WITHOUT air-conditioning! It is June. I do not know where you reside but I live in the south. For the past two weeks, the temperature has been climbing into the lower 90’s each day.

I am an American woman. I do not know how to function without air-conditioning. I have been conditioned to live with air-conditioning. It is a natural resource in my life and a dear friend.

A house without temperature-control is not normal and neither am I, at the moment. I have accomplished many things but I cannot remember how or what I have done exactly.

The house is shaping up. I have been involved in the work process. It is beginning to look good. But I’ll be double-dog danged if I can recall how it got this way.

I am so backwards. I actually took my Silky Terrier to be groomed yesterday, where there is air-conditioning, came home, lay on the floor and panted for two hours.

Cold baths have become the highlight of my day and baby powder is now a part of my daily body cleansing routine.

Did I mention in last week’s column that I enjoyed hanging around in shorts and a tank top? I lied. I prefer sitting naked in the freezer now.

It is so humid. The new wallpaper border will not stick. We now have to buy some super-ultra glue, which will MAKE it stay in place. At the moment, it is hanging off of the wall like garland on a Christmas tree during the holidays except it isn’t pleasant to look at. As a matter of fact, it ticks me off. It’s drooping there as if it doesn’t have a job to do. Its job is to be still and represent our walls correctly. Socially inept border disorder. You would think it would be grateful to have a home to go to and not have to stay rolled up in plastic 24/7. Decorative ingrate!

As you can see, I have hit an all-time psychological breakdown. I’m venting to wallpaper border. I don’t believe this can be topped. Literally, it can’t be.

Even Richard’s deer head (the murderer), which he proudly displays on the wall, hangs its tongue out lately.

As you know, heat has a way of quickly zapping a body’s energy. While working at my desk I have, from time to time, nodded off while my fingers were still typing away. I didn’t think this was humanly possible. It is humanly possible.

It is amazing what one can get done on autopilot. Sadly, the less I think, the quicker my tasks are completed. This revelation has completely unraveled my state of being.

I thought I was creative. Not really. I just live my material really well.

Supposedly air-conditioning will be installed tomorrow and I will finally be able to wake up from this heat-infested nightmare. It is interesting what one can accomplish and overcome when placed in the midst of the pit of hell.

I will be all the more grateful for my heavenly home.

The post A Hot-Blooded Woman With an Ice Chest appeared first on Just Laugh.

You see, it’s contract renewal time on Sesame Street, flagship of the CTW. After watching the stars of hit shows like “Friends” and “ER” rake in more than a million dollars per episode, greed has come home to roost on Sesame Street.

“It’s not fair,” said one Sesame Street star, who asked to remain anonymous. “Some of us have been here since Day 1, and we’re still making the same crappy salary. I don’t know about anyone else, but Bert — uh, I mean my roommate — and I can barely afford our apartment, thanks to all those damn Yuppies and their regentrification.”

The same burning question is on everyone’s mind in the neighborhood: how could one of the most popular children’s shows continue to pay its actors the lowest salaries on television?

“I don’t know what crap the network is trying to pull,” thundered Snuffleupagus, Big Bird’s on-screen best friend. “I know they can afford it, because they’ve added so many “corporate underwriter” spots to the show credits, we barely have enough time to do the show. So where’s the money going?”

But not everyone shares these feelings. A few of the veteran actors still remain true to their art. They’ve reached millions of kids, and get satisfaction from knowing that nearly every kid in America can read because of their work. Muppets Cookie Monster and Big Bird, as well as human actors Maria and Gordon are more than satisfied with their $75,000 annual salary.

“Sure, it not much in New York, but me not need much, except lots of COOKIES!” said Cookie Monster in a recent appearance on “Meet the Press,” before trying to devour Tim Russert’s toupee.

Big Bird echoed the same sentiments on a recent “Jim Lehrer Newshour” appearance. “We’re not in it for the money. We do it for the kids. If it was about the money, I’d be in the NBA, playing for the Atlanta Hawks.”

But relative newcomers to the show, including superstar Elmo, Barkley the giant dog, and Rosita believe they deserve the big salaries their network TV counterparts are raking in.

“We’re not asking a lot,” said Rosita. “We know this is public television. We’d be happy with just 50 grand an episode. I mean, look at what that hack Barney is doing. Not only does he make 175K per show, but he gets 20 points off the back end from all the merchandising, plus 10% of all syndication fees. The guy is one of the most annoying people since Rush Limbaugh, but he’s got it made.”

“Ruff” agreed Barkley.

Elmo slapped his fuzzy paw on the table. “Tell me about it. I do my own 15 minute segment every day, PLUS all the other stuff on the main show, and I don’t even get half a point from my own ‘Tickle Me Elmo’ dolls. But the Big Purple Jerk gets residuals from sleeping bags, vitamins, and #&%$@! footie pajamas!”

Elmo paused for a drink of Evian. “I don’t think we’re being unreasonable. ‘Between the Lions’ is even making more than we are, and they’ve only been around for a couple years! We just want to get paid what we’re worth. Plus our cut of the merchandising revenue.”

Rumors of a contract dispute by many Muppets have generated an avalanche of discussion and controversy on opinion pages and news programs over the past month. The speculation among Public Television insiders is there may even be a strike before filming for the upcoming fall season begins.

“That could be devastating. Can you say devastating?” said Fred Rogers, star of ‘Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.’ “The same thing happened to the ‘Electric Company’ back in the ’70s. The stars demanded more pay, but the network executives canceled the show instead. Morgan Freeman, Bill Cosby, and Rita Moreno were the only ones lucky enough to land on their feet after it was all over.”

“Aw, that’ll never happen,” dismisses Oscar the Grouch, one of Sesame Street’s founders. “There are too many of us who will stay on. Oh sure, there’ll be some rough times if guys like Elmo go. I’ll admit he’s one of our more popular characters, but hey, we got along fine without him for 20 years. Besides, Elmo’s ego is growing out of control. Just last week he kicked an intern for bringing him jelly instead of jam for his toast.”

“The network brass would be stupid to let me go,” Elmo said, puffing out his fuzzy chest. “My face has been plastered on more t-shirts, lunch boxes, and sing-along videos than Grover, Big Bird, and Ernie and Bert combined. I’m their golden boy, and they know it.”

But other cast members are afraid of what a strike could do to them. “It’s awful,” says Grover. “I don’t think I can find work anywhere else. I’ve been typecast. People see me, and all they can think of is that cute little blue monster in the “Stupid Waiter” sketches. I’ve done nine years of summer Shakespeare theatre with Patrick Stewart, for God’s sake! But do you think I’ll ever get anything bigger than a walk-on part in the next Die Hard movie? My last movie role was playing a #$*&% Grover doll in a department store window. How’s that for typecasting?!”

So what does the future hold for the cast and crew of this public television mainstay? Can things return to the way they were, back in the show’s halcyon days? Or are we witnessing the beginning of the end of innocence? Will Sesame Street be brought to you by the letters Q and B, or by tax shelters, stock options, and mutual funds?

Only time will tell.

The post Trouble on Sesame Street appeared first on Just Laugh.

“This was the most traumatic experience I’ve ever dealt with. You have no idea what it’s like being stranded on a moving walkway,” said Lindsey McMichael, whose life stopped when the electricity ceased the walkway to continue.

This slight mishap has had some mixed reactions from airport personnel, as well as other passengers. “The moving walkways are to speed up the flying process. But in an event the power goes down, passengers are allowed to walk around the moving walkways. That’s the benefit of having legs,” commented Pat Watkins, a traveler who witnessed the scene.

This misunderstanding of the usage of moving walkways forced O’Hare to accommodate nearly 28 passengers with free hotel rooms and rental cars. “We hope future passengers learn from this situation because from now on, we (O’Hare) won’t be so kind,” said Larry Morgan, director of on-time flight making, a program implemented for events like this.

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