This dentist seems to have had a break from reality, OR maybe this is actually some kind of play on words for a vampire massage parlor?
Thoughts or comments?
Tag: Humor
15 jokes about Lady’s Gaga’s meat dress.
Now, I realize joking about a meat dress is fairly easy. But, essentially she drew first blood, so I think she completely expects the wisecracks, even if they get a little raw.
So, I’m going to up the ante. 15 jokes, right off the top of my head, (I’ll update with better ones, should I think them up.) Tell me which you like the best, or submit one of your own.
1. If she fails down, she’ll be nothing but hamburger.
2. Obviously the VMA’s don’t lack protein now, and that’s a relief.
3. Strangely she looked less like meat in her beef dress than she did in her trashy Bad Romance video. Ahem.
4. Just like Cinderella, it’ll all go bad by midnight.
5. Maybe Gaga made this dress solely to torture dogs.
6. Never tell Gaga to bring an entrée to your BBQ.
7. If I wore something like this, I’d get grilled.
8. You think this dress is bad, wait until she comes out with eyewear.
9. Gaga’s outfit normally sells for $13.98…. a pound.
10. If she wears this to India, she’ll be dressed in someone’s relative–then, you guess it, a public relations nightmare.
11. Why on earth didn’t her steak hat have a garnish? What a Philistine!
12. For Hannibal Lector, that dress would be the appetizer, and she’d be the main course. I’m not sure about dessert, probably ice cream.
13. Thank God she didn’t marinate.
14. Gaga is officially rare.
15. People screamed, “Gaga, well done!” But she didn’t realize they were actually petitioning her.
Bonus:
Gaga can easily feed a party of 6.
Dog walkers, this is a fashion don’t.
Thanks, Gaga! You just decided what 1.2 million ppl will wear for Halloween.
(notice to readers: I enjoy Gaga. Much love to her and her fans! I’m still bucking to be her spiritual director, seriously. I’m waiting by the phone. Bring it on Stefani.) :)
Shame and wanting to poking out your own eye
There’s a feeling you can get, after you’ve done something horrible. It’s so bad, that you might consider poking your own eye out (if for nothing else than a viable distraction.)
My first job (besides babysitting) was as a hostess at Eat’n Park Family Restaurant. A woman about 10 years older transferred there. She had been a waitress for a long time (even a decorated one. Yes, Eat’n Park is special like that.) She also had the name “Lisa,” just like me. That’s about all the ingredients needed for good communication and lasting friendship, right? um. No.Background:
Sometimes I’d goof off and crack jokes in passing with Lisa. No big deal. (If you know me, this is all highly typical behavior.)
WELL-
One day, like a stoke of non genius, it came into my head to wisecrack when I noticed Lisa had a blue pen scribble on her forearm. I noticed it was actually a very sloppily rendered mark of her own name. The “L” was super long on the bottom, and not in a cursive way. It was just odd. It struck me as humorous. I already knew she had a 4 year old daughter. Her little girl had probably been playing with her waitressing pen and wrote out her mom’s name all by herself. Or maybe Lisa had done it–for a joke, or because she was bored. So, feeling my comic Einstein vibe coming on me (which is inversely proportionate to my rational thought and good judgment), I said–rather flippantly, I might ad–“Hey, what’s that on your arm? Is that so you don’t forget your name?”
Sudden. Dead. Powerful stare.
Awkward pause. I could hear a spider near the salad bar blink.
Then I noticed she had a sort of sad “How could you, you freaking jerk?” look on her tired face. (I picked up on that because I’m really good at feeling people out!)
It was a tattoo.
A horrible one.
A mistake.
Perhaps a drunk boyfriend or trashed stepdad scrawled it there. Who knows. But whatever the story was, it was part of a painful past. A past she did not want thrown in her face by some stupid and insensitive quip from a dumb teenager.
My heart froze with panic. It’s the kind of panic where you start to smell yourself. A cold sweat mustache erupts on your lip usually, too
.
Would she stab me with a steak knife?
Plan to burn me “accidentally” with a scrod entrée platter? (Wicked hot, they are!)
I fumbled around, and got out, “um… hahah… I’m just kidding.” I was trying desperately to appear nonchalant. I considered whistling a tune to prove it.
Still, she just looked at me–steadily.
“I’m sorry,” I said, getting up the nerve. It felt like a blanket of shame washed over me. Self-loathing–all over the place.
She shook it off, and went back to work. From then on I tried to be extraordinary nice to her, in every way I could think of. I bused her tables, and got her refreshing beverages, and tried to be as pleasant, and positive as I could. She didn’t hold it against me, beyond a day or so.
Once, after a 10p.m.-5 a.m. shift when my dad failed to pick me up, she even drove me home in her weary beater of a car.
I still wonder about her.
It was poke-your-eye-out shame.
I’ll never forget it.
Have you ever had “inner death by shame”? (you can just answer yes or no, unless you want to be brave and tell your story)
Traveling Light with Crazy Love
We don’t just have upon us a crisis of faith, but also a crisis of faithfulness.
We’ve been reviewing Francis Chan’s book Crazy Love. I encourage everyone to read it. It’ll do you good. Also, it makes an interesting and thought-provoking small group study, or Sunday School class.
This last lesson was on Risk and Faith. Chan asked everyone to do something in their regular life that requires faith. He asked that we abandon the typical planning we do to minimize our risk. We should do something others could think of as silly, and allow ourselves to live and act in a more vulnerable way. We shouldn’t rely in our stuff to satisfy us. We should live bigger lives.
Along the same lines, Rolf Potts leads this sort of recommended simpler type of lifestyle. He calls it vagabonding. (I found out about Rolf through the Tim Ferriss site. Thank you, Tim.)For Potts, a travel writer, his style is not just a method of travel, but a way of life. It’s unlike the American way of life, because it does not trust in stuff.
I’ve wondered if it’s the case that in America we seem to act like “in god we trust” refers to the money itself, or the things we can buy with it.
We do a lot to feel safe. We buy insurance to minimize various kind of threats. We buy things we feel sure will help us, or at least soothe us. What is the lasting consequence of this approach? A false sense of control? Feathering our pillow of self-sufficiency? Other things…
Rolf Potts takes the theme of traveling light to a whole new level, as he now begins his No Baggage Challenge: Traveling to 12 countries in 6 weeks—With NO baggage (not even a man purse/satchel). [His blog details his travels, and his packing techniques are also quite useful.]
The journey of faith is the same way. When we seek out the comfortable, and we travel heavy, by preparing (mentally or physically) for every potential event, challenge, or threat–something important gets left behind. Perspective for one thing. But what else?
In the life of faith, “taking nothing for the journey” means that one must trust in God’s provision (and his way of providing), trust others, and build relationships. It’s not about what we’ve packed (prepared) for, it’s about the trip itself. It’s about being brave, and opening up to others, and the experience of not being weighted down (both literally and figuratively) by our presuppositions: What we think the trip should look like, and feel like.
You don’t like bumps, you say? Sorry, it’s bumpy. You just might have been insulating yourself. For some perspective… Think: padded cell.
The spiritual journey (journey of faith) is undertaken so optimal preparedness is removed as an option: It’s a method of living, not to be comfortable, but to survive, live, and eventually thrive, where you are, as you are. You come as you are. When the going gets tough–and it will–you stay. [The only thing you “plan on” is love and loyalty.] You work it out. You don’t let yourself have but that choice. You live has though you don’t have a chance/option to flee–like we are too often ready to do. We trust others, and God with abandon, despite the risks, or pain that may/will come.
Why? Because it is the surest way to growth, more rewarding experiences, and a sense of being in a Story bigger than yourself and your self interests. In spending ourselves, we gain our lives.
When we take a risk to help or love (without examining the our potential losses, and assessing all the personal risks) we live by and in faith, not by sight.
[Now, realize, I’m not talking about a life of folly, or veritable reckless behavior. I’m talking about being okay with discomfort, and sacrificing the known and manageable, for something greater at stake.]
What could that look like for you?
Please-Leave your ideas.
Maybe giving away the extra car to someone who needs it? Opening up your home for someone else to live in? Inviting a family to your home for supper once a week? Using a paycheck to buy someone groceries?
What kind of faith will you live by?
In this sense, a little pain goes a long way. Soon, our sights move away from ourselves in pursing selfless faithfulness.
AND-How light can you travel? (on vacation, etc.)
Comments, thoughts, and questions welcome.
Parenting mistakes
Have you ever gotten in over your head as a parent? Maybe having kids at all was over your head to begin with.
When I saw this picture, and the wild panic in the face of this dad, I actually felt a great relief…that I wasn’t him.
What caption would you give this photo?
Once I passed out and dropped Ellie when she about 4 months old. Now that’s a mistake! We took her right to the ER. It turned out that she was quite fine, and she got away with just a light red mark on her forehead. I got prescribed a Sprite. (Probably that beverage really cost about $800.)
The doctor said, “Now she can blame you for everything, because you dropped her on her head.”
“I think she more or less slid off my lap, but I plan to not tell her,” I said.
As it is now, if Ellie were any smarter, I might want to drop her on purpose. Maybe from a tree top. By her school marks, and testing scores, it may have had a beneficial effect. So, there you have it.
What mistake have you made, or has a parent made with you?