Tag Archives: funny

The glennmacaulay.com Style Guide

As a respected literary website, we’re always getting submissions from would-be comedians, aspiring scribes, and even railway tramps who’ve abandoned writing tall tales on the walls of boxcars with their own poo, with hopes of entering the digital age. Besides the obvious problem of forcing my scant staff of 57 interns who survive on a stipend of bread ends and unlimited candy canes to comb through thousands of submissions, the biggest issue we face is that very few are formatted properly.

In the past I’ve hesitated to make this style guide public but I recently had to turn down a promising Mark Twain spoof called “The Adventures of Tom Lawyer and Fuckleberry Hinn” because its formatting rendered it unreadable to my audience. To stop this from happening again, and from you wasting time that could be dedicated to planting bushes in funny places, I’ve copy and pasted an abridged version of the complete guide that covers the basics. If you’d like the complete version or if you’re currently working on a novel that you’d like to pitch to our Buck Fumble Books ‘n Calendars imprint, please sent a self-addressed, stamped envelope to:

345 Tree Street
Toronto, ON
O0O 0O1

Numbers

For numbers greater than ten, use figures, not words. If you need to know whether to use feminine or masculine terminology when describing a number, here is a cheat sheet:

1 – girl
2 – girl
3 – boy
4 -boy
5 – girl
6 – boy
7 – girl
8 – boy
9 – ??

To figure out the gender of numbers greater than nine containing one masculine and one feminine number, ask your parents.

If you’re planning on writing a number over 1,000,000,000  you must add an asterisk and corresponding footnote describing why you think there’s a number funnier or better.

Heights, weights, etc.

We use imperial units when talking about people, hens, gravy and anything purple (e.g. “The 12 foot woman snacked on the 40 pound hen while dabbing an ounce of iced gravy on her four inch, dark purple bruise (that she got when one of her students threw and apple at her (she’s a teacher)”).

For everything else we use the Canadian metric system, which is the same as the universal metric system except we have a unit of nothingness called a “nist”.

There is an exception for industry standards, e.g. we would never measure slop in kilograms but rather sacks.

Other

Only use exclamation points if your sentence has an explosion in it, or if you’re me. I’m the voice of the site and can yell whenever I want.

Never use the letter “b” unless you ask me for permission first! I don’t want to get into “hows? whats? whys? and whoas!” of it so let’s just say that it has something to do with what I thought was an empty promise to a woman I loved, stealthily overseen and notarized by a magistrate who held a grudge against my family because our frog farm put their toad shed out of business.

Whenever you use a word that features double letters, you must say out loud “double trouble!” You may be wondering how I’m able to enforce this rule but let’s just say the magistrate and I patched up our relationship. His legal knowledge, combined with strategically placed shrubbery in funny places, grants me the ability to move about this world unnoticed and ready to enforce the rules.

If you’re a freelance writer, please include a small tilde (˜) at the bottom right of every page, in honour of whoever this guy Lance was who apparently went to the slammer in order for writers to pitch stories to whoever they want. I’m not 100% sure that’s what “freelance” means, but the teenager who told me also taught me the code in Street Fighter that gives Dhalsim a Polo shirt and that was true.

And finally, be clear with your abbreviations! Don’t assume I know what you’re talking about. I was once about to publish what I thought was a hilarious diatribe against the hated Nut Bagel Alliance only to realize the author was actually talking about something called the National Basketball Association. I assumed the part about more “three pointers” was simply stating that nut bagel fans should abandon their favourite snack in favour of Doritos. And when they argued for more “slam dunks”, I found myself nodding at the thought of dunking a sesame bagel into a glass of almond milk, which makes way more sense than getting a bagel with almonds on it.

 

Facebook buttons of the future

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Here’s a post I did for work that’s not as abrasive as what I’d post here. Click anywhere to get. 

Embarrassing celebrity encounters

Reader Jake Zex’s embarrassing celebrity encounter is a bit longer than the usual “Ricki Lake barfed pickles at my church” type stories we feature, but it’s a good one regardless. Enjoy!

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My friend Jordem and I were at Goo Zoo in Chicago’s Wheat Sacking District, shooting the shit and discussing how expensive Goo Zoo’s signature shot, “the shit” is. My buddy kept nodding toward the Growing Pains pinball machine and muttering something about a guy who was “so plain”. I’m not one to to avert my gaze only to check out plains — I’m all about crazies, hair faces, nub noses and tit monsters so I ignored him.

At that point I was cross-eyed and drooling off several shots of shit, so my poisoned mind decided to reveal a big secret to Jordem, a secret I won’t fully reveal here but lets just say it involves a pumpkin-spiced bra. The bar was really loud at this point as DJ Cream Pie had started his set,  but Jordem appeared to understand the gist of the secret so I wrapped it up with an obligatory, “keep it on the DL”. He looked at me funny, glanced back toward the pinball machine then back to me and said “for real?”. I patted him on the back and told him not to quit his day job because I thought he was joking and the only people who joke are professional comedians who don’t need to work during the day because they work mostly at night in clubs. I then headed to the bathroom, danced all night with a Marine and his sister to Cream Pie’s Uptown Mega Mix and didn’t see Jord again until after the bar closed.

We ran into each other outside as Goo Zoo’s patrons were slowly filing onto the waiting barges. Jordem was drunker than King Henry after Merlin invented rum so I was scared that he had taken my advice seriously, quit his day job and celebrated by wasting all his remaining cash on spirits and olives. After asking how he afforded to get so drunk he gave me a strange look and told me that they were “on the DL”. I assumed he meant he was using my secret as currency and while I trade secrets for drinks and hats regularly, I do not trade those of my best friends, so I got mad and accused him of selling me out. At that moment, D.L. Hughley walked past wearing his signature “Brown Betty” leather jacket and Jordem asked me how I knew him and why I didn’t greet him with my usual cheek pinch and mint offering. I told him how despite my respect for the man’s career, I am not acquainted with D.L. Hughley in any way, shape or co-ed recreational sports team.  Jordem responded with, “then why did you have me charge my drinks to him?”.

Game changer.

My mind did one of those rewind things where I started to piece everything together and as a bonus I finally remembered the code to open my fridge, which I have no problem admitting was simply “ROT”. Apparently, Jordem had referred to D.L. earlier in the evening as “the Soul Plane guy” standing next to the pinball machine, which I didn’t figure out probably because of my policy on not checking out plains. Then, by revealing my secret I had inadvertently told Jord to keep drinks on the popular star in a classic case of misunderstanding.

I ran to D.L. and explained the whole scenario which he found hilarious while also revealing that Jordem had only bought one drink and some pretzel lasagna sliders which he was more than happy to take care of. I asked Jordem how he managed to get so plastered if D.L. only bought him one and he revealed that he was faking it because he hadn’t lied in awhile.

The Complete Liar’s Guide to Birthdays

The first entry in a new series called “The Liar’s Guide” is all about birthdays because everyone’s got one and because my birthday is coming up. Lying, sorry, but in a feature like this there’s bound to be a few. Lying. There’s only one lie, the one about the birthday. Lying. There are two lies now because I lied about the original lie. Lying. There are about three lies now but that would negate lie #2 so… uh… this is a great example of getting caught in what’s called a “web of lies”. I’m a great liar and my lies are web-free, leaving no feelings hurt and no need to back lies up with more lies or a phone call to your dad saying “if anyone asks, my middle name is Fuvv”.

The Liar’s Guide to… Birthdays

What to say when you receive a crummy gift

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“I’m sure I can turn this into a bra somehow”

“This looks tasty, I’m going to eat it”

“I’m not disappointed, but the charity I’m donating it to will be”

“Trick or treat, smell me Pete, do I smell like the kind of guy who would needs another copy of Rushmore? Ha, relax man, I’m kidding, I’ll use this one as prop in my next skit”


What to say when you don’t want to go to someone’s birthday party because you don’t like them or it sounds boring

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“Sorry, I only celebrate Christmas Eve.”

“If there’s a religion out there that doesn’t celebrate birthdays, that’s terrible, and I’m leaving right now to find them and take them down. So yeah, gonna have to miss your party.”

“I’m taking this drug that makes my ears drool if I so much as smell a cake.”

“Sorry, I have a haircut booked that day and if I cancel it I won’t be able to fit my Bart Simpson wig on the next day.”

“I poo a lot.”

“I gotta work that night and there’s no way I can switch shifts because I’m the only person who knows how to solve the onions.”

“Is it alright if I bring my sick rat?”

“I’ll come but the crew will have to come too. They’re filming a documentary about me and how I shed when I’m around other people.”


What to say when someone asks how old you are and you’re embarrassed to admit it

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“It’s the 10th anniversary of my 20th birthday.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to ask my doctor that question.”

“Humans don’t have an expiry date, man”

“Dude, I got three email accounts, how old do you think I am?”

“In dog years I’m a Shetland Sheepdog”

“Why don’t you saw my arm off and count the rings?”

“Well, I’m still pretty wiggly”

“I don’t want to compromise my mission. Hey, buy a spy some fries, would you?”


How to react when the waiters sing a birthday song to you at a restaurant and you hate it

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Simply barf


What to say to someone who forgets it’s your birthday when all you want to say is “I’m want to rip your fuckin’ eyes out”

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“It’s fine, for a few weeks I thought Remembrance Day was in a month called ‘Newvembo’.”

“Kidding, my birthday isn’t for another 15 months.”

“No problem, why don’t we go to The Bay and I can pick something out for myself that you can pay for.”

“I expect you to be at my door Christmas morning with a ham and some diamonds.”

“I guarantee Jeremy Jackson forgets David Charvet’s birthday and they can’t even afford presents for each other.”

 

Letters from idiots

We had our interns steal some mail and hack some email accounts to bring you this week’s edition of Letters from idiots, the viral sensation that’s in development as a sitcom starring Tony Hale as “Guy who isn’t idiot”. Please share and if you find one of your letters here, don’t bother us, we checked and none of this is illegal unless you’re able to identify the specific thief (all our interns wear pillow cases on their heads hehehe).

Bill,

I made a reservation at that vegan restaurant. Don’t worry they do have fries lol

– Diana


What’s up Ian?

Remember yesterday when you told me that story about your dog liking peanut butter but not jam? We should turn that into a Twitter feed. I can start it but I’d love if you could help too (it is your dog after all). I know some guys with over 2k followers so it wouldn’t that hard to get it off the ground.

Hit. Me. Up.
Bear


Hey Max,

Finally got your treble clef joke from yesterday and you’re right, it does kinda look like a pregnant chick with one ball.

Love, Uncle Pete


Hey Craig, I can’t come to your party because I have like, a million things to do this week and I haven’t updated my linkedin since June. So sorry, and I hope it all goes well, i know how hard it can be planning a funeral.

LIVE. LOVE. RESPECT.

– Kerry


Andrew,

Please, please PLEASE show me how to download movies.

From Jason


Dear Mrs. White

I know you like to keep it fair by letting every student take the mouse home at least once during the school year, but not every home has the soft carpets and unlimited seeds (Jacklyn’s father works for Albright Seed) that our home has. Jacklyn loves Manny more than the other children do, I can tell. She has authored several stories called the Adventures of Manny Mouse and Jacklyn. Myself and Jackyln’s father are going to send the stories to a publishing house and get a book done so you won’t want to be on our bad side once she’s on TV and a superstar. You’re a toad.

Regards,
Jacklyn’s mother, Jackie



Hey nancy,

God did not create the zebra as means of attracting male humans to the ‘sweet spots’ of human females via panty. Call me when you buy the flesh-coloured kind.


Greetings Dave!

Heads up, we’ll be bringing our own ice cream cones because the ones at the fair likely have wheat in them. The ice cream is fine, no wheat there, but the cones we can’t be sure. Stu and I make our own at home using rice paste and gelatin. We’ll bring extra just in case.

Oliver


Hi Ruby

The cut has almost completely healed, thanks for asking. I re-filled the first aid kit and it’s better than ever. I replaced the bandages with some homemade ones I tore off Darryl’s old work shirts and I added a copy of Chicken Soup for the Salesman’s Soul, some Frog Balm from Cape Cod and six thumbtacks because I can never find any when I need them.

– Sally


Yo man,

It’s so weird that Michael Jackson is dead and still releasing albums, eh? Makes you wonder who really owns our graveyards. Next thing you know, my great grandpa will be directing transformers. Wanna go swimming tomorrow?

– Jake



Hi Nick,

How much did it cost to get your mole removed? I want to get a tattoo but I need to know how much it’ll cost to get erased if I end up hating it. I think I’m going to get the recycling symbol in that camouflage style.

– Darla


Big thanks to all the interns who made this edition of Letters from idiots possible. Below is a picture of the team from last year’s Christmas party at Belinda’s mom’s house. Most of them will be moving on at the end of the month so anyone interested in joining us next quarter should take some time to read the guidelines prior to submitting an application. 

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The dog day of summer

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It was early September, not hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk but hot enough to heat up leftover eggs on the sidewalk. I was knelt down, filling a juice jug with water from the sprinkler, a ritual I had been performing all summer in order to make my summer certified lemonade that was selling like photos of nude women to the recently pubic. To complete the full experience I presented the drink to customers not in glasses but rather hollowed out eggshells I painted red stitches on to look like baseballs in keeping with the summer theme. If it seems like I got eggs on the brain it’s because I was born around breakfast. Anyway, if you want to read about my lemonade, pick up a copy of Business Week, this story is about dogs.

As I was kneeling there I caught the scent of dog and my eyes immediately darted down toward my belt.  When I had buckled it twenty minutes earlier, I thought I might regret wearing the one made of  beef jerky but my leather belt was currently being used by my wife to measure how many of my waists could fit into the basement in case the cloning project got funding.

Before I knew it I was surrounded by at least 25 dogs of various breeds, some with collars, some without, some barking, some sniffing, all staring at me, mouths agape and hungry for preserved meat. I decided to test their focus by casually walking up the block toward the failed Asian fusion restaurant that had only succeeded in fusing the parts of the brain that detect bad value and mediocre noodles. Sure enough, the dogs were on my tail, snout first, their own tails happily flapping away as if fanning butterflies away from a pile of raisins. They weren’t necessarily aggressive but I didn’t like how all of them were so interested in me, a creature who didn’t speak the same language or even like the same type of girls as them.

I decided not to run because I didn’t want to provoke the dogs and have them start running themselves. To me, a dog running is like a bee stinging only a dog doesn’t die after it runs unless it’s old and has a bad heart, or if it runs into a bee and it’s allergic to bees. I made a mental note to call my next band Dog Heart and continued at a brisk pace toward the graveyard where I figured the smell of bones would distract them enough to lose them. If not, at least I’d be able to finally check out that cemetery I’d never been to.

I was sweating cats and dogs and could sense the dogs reacting to my new smell like a cat reacting to a sweaty dog, so I did a quick barrel roll and left a sweat stain on the sidewalk that actually kind of looked like a dog–I’m not sure though, it was a quick glance and I might have just caught the shadow of one of the dogs. I walked 16 steps (I know the exact number because I had already decided I wanted to tell the story and needed some cold, hard facts) and gathered enough courage to look back where I saw the mutts licking at pavement, just as I had intended. I ducked into a pet store and waited until the coast was clear. Before leaving I left my belt in an iguana tank and that iguana eventually went on to star in over thirty children’s stories written by this slow kid who lived above the pet store.

Reactions the Gang had to Kool calling himself “Kool” and the rest of the band “the Gang”

In 1969, bass player Robert Bell informed his band that henceforth he would be known as “Kool”, while the band would be referred to as “the Gang”. Here are some reactions the Gang had to this news:

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“If you’re going to be Kool, then I demand you start calling me ‘Fuck Master’.”

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“I didn’t quit my job washing cigarettes just to be lumped in with the rest of these mother fuckers.”

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“Why not just call the rest of us ‘The Pieces of Shit’?”

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“I knew that girl named ‘Sexy’ would end up being a bad influence the minute you started dating her, man.”

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“I don’t understand — are you the leader of ‘the Gang’ or are you an independent entity? To whom do we pay gang dues to?”

KooltheGang4

“Are you still going to make us egg salad on Tuesdays? Because that doesn’t sound like something a guy named ‘Kool’ would be into doing.”

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“It’s not so bad, I mean, gangs can be cool too, right? How about we get ourselves a symbol, something like, oh I don’t know, an old tin can full of garbage with a mother fuckin’ ‘G’ on it?”

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“It could be worse I ‘spose — I heard James Brown calls his band the Piss Drinkin’ Ass Brains.”

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“You named your infant son Meepy and you call yourself ‘Kool’? Poor Meepy.”

 

Friday’s gallery – engagement photos

The warrior king who runs glennmacaulay.com is back with another highly relevant Internet photo gallery, quick and easily consumable for the techie on the go.

Today’s gallery features a stunning collection of engagement photos, a modern photographic ritual that aims to capture pre-wed couples proving to their loved ones that they are more than just a vagina and a well-fitting penis. It’s also a way for photographers to take advantage of a new digital age where citizens feel the need to prove to others that they are happier and cuter than anyone else. Onto the gallery! We’ll talk after.

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Gregorby and Margoose give a not-so-subtle nod to Gregorby’s Moroccan heritage by acting out a traditional “Check Check”. Here, the male examines the female’s back thighs and lower ass to ensure she’s fit for a mule-butting while the female surveys the skies for hungry toucans. Photo by Beast

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Biv and El Chris re-enact their first kiss amongst the sauces of their forefathers. There is actually a lot more going on here than meets the eye–see those bananas? They’re pointed away from the constellation Canis Minor, communicating to us that the two love-birds are waaay into the healing powers of muck.

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Taking candid shots is another popular style of engagement photo. Jason and Jasonn had an hour long chat out on the picnic table while their photographer took snaps every thirty seconds, producing about 104 (the shutterbug took a short break to spit) hot pics. They opted for this one, which came about after Jasonn asked Jason if she preferred cumin or allspice for the hundredth time.

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George and his fiancée Iman just had to include their brood of North Boston Fire Rats, which they consider a part of the family. Iman looks a touch peeved only because the photographer yelled at them after one of the rats got into his popcorn.

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The pet trend continues in this photo of the future Mr. and Mrs. Tink. Things got a bit weird when the couple couldn’t contain themselves and started necking right there and then. While this was going on the cat sniffed the tiger skin wall hanging harder than Josef “The Schnoz” Herman during second semester mid-stinks at Odour College, North Bay campus.

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Urbanites Snarl and Friday don’t hide the fact that they love chewin’ on stew-dipped wood here in their condo kitchen. The photo was obviously staged because they’re not wearing bibs, but photography is about magic, not science.

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This couple was fairly subdued until the photographer told them to act is if they were at a salad bar that ran out of olives.

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Originally this couple wanted to eat an American flag in honour of the groom’s Latvian heritage but were convinced otherwise once the photographer brought out this baked cardboard with ham.

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Ian and Devra went through six days of make-up and glare training to get this once-in-a-lifetime shot. They aren’t portraying any particular set of characters but rather a composite of some of their favourites: Ian a mix of Vigo the Carpathian, a Crown Royal bag, Kim Mitchell and Donkey Kong, and Devra a mix of the mom from Alien Nation, Kat Von D, Powder, and Audrey Hepburn.

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Finally, we have Jones and Lady who covered themselves in flowers only to be bombarded by thousands of honey wasps. They were able to keep their cool because the photographer told them not to move or the they’d be charged four times the price. What might have been frustrating for some turned into a blessing for this pair–the venom from the wasps turned their blood into a poison that they used on Lady’s parents who had arranged for her to marry a different guy who doesn’t believe in movies.

Okay, let’s talk. What’s your favourite photo? Around the fifth photo I got kinda tired of writing captions but I forged ahead like a character in Lord of the Rings would if he or she found out that there’s a man who owns a killer set of books. Enjoy your weekend and don’t forget make fun of anyone who doesn’t know who Pearl Jam is.