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Things to do in an Office Meeting take 2
- Remove your shoes and socks. Lay your socks on the table, turn each one inside out, and inspect them carefully. If anyone says anything, tell them 'doctor's orders.'
- Roll your eyes at almost everything the boss says. If addressed directly, adopt a cowering posture and stammer pitifully as you reply. Ask that he or she 'not hurt you anymore.'
- Bring a huge jar of Vaseline to the meeting. Display it prominently.
- Stay behind as everyone else, including the boss, leaves. Thank them for coming.
- Every so often, duck under the table. Stare in horror. Pop back up and look real scared.
- Rubberneck at the notes of the person next to you. Copy them word for word. Subvocalize as you do.
- Tell them that they 'understand these things better than you do.'
- Bring a hand puppet, preferably an animal. Ask it to clarify difficult points.
- Make all the stereotyped facial expressions to indicate that you are a psychiatrist administering psychoanalysis to the speaker. Take notes furiously.
- Bring a pitcher of non-alcoholic beer to the meeting. As the meeting progresses, start slurring your speech.
- Belch loudly. Tell your co-workers you can't help it.
- Start crying.
- Have a timer that buzzes at intervals. When it goes off, take a pill from a pill case and gulp it down. If anyone asks, tell them it's to 'prevent the seizures.'
- Lapse into a staring coma. Drool. Have a confederate wipe the spit from your lips, and say 'It's pitiful. But what can you do?'
- At opportune times, stick an inhaler in your ear. Inhale deeply. Ask your neighbor, nearer the speaker, to trade places with you 'so you can hear better.' Gradually work your way up to the speaker.
- When you are as close as possible, stare up at them adoringly.
- Give a broad wink to someone else at the table. In time, wink at everyone. Sometimes shake your head just a little, as if to indicate that the speaker is slightly crazy and everybody knows it.
- Wear shades and carry a walkie-talkie with an earphone. Once in a while, quietly say a few words into it.
- Bring a doughnut cushion and use it. If anybody asks, say that your hemorrhoids are really acting up
- this week. Offer to share it if they really need it. Be embarrassingly persistent in your offer. Offer to show them how bad they are.
- Wear brightly-colored earmuffs. Explain that 'my ears tend to get real cold at these meetings.' Ask the speaker to please talk a little louder.
- Bring a small mountain of computer printouts to the meeting. If possible, include some old-fashioned fanfold paper for dramatic effect. Every time the speaker makes a point, pretend to check it in one of the printouts. Pretend to find substantiating evidence there.
Nod vigorously, and say 'uh-huh, uh-huh!'
- Bring a few telephone books. Add a few to sit on, adjusting your seat height until the top of your head is exactly one-half inch higher than the speaker's. Explain that you sometimes have trouble seeing the presentation.
- Arrange to have a poorly-dressed young woman with an infant quietly enter the meeting, stare directly at the (male) speaker for a while, burst into tears, then leave the room.
- When there is a call for questions, lean back in your chair, prop your feet up on the table, smile contentedly, and say, 'Well, here's the way I see it, J.B...' (or any other impressive-sounding initials that are not actually your boss's.)
Submitted by Mike, Bolder, Co.
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A lot of folks cannot understand how we came to have an oil shortage here in our country.
Well, there is a very simple answer. Nobody bothered to check the oil. We just didn't know we were getting low.
The reason for this is purely geographical. Our oil is located in Alaska, California, Oklahoma and Texas.
Our dipsticks are located in Washington DC.
I went into the 7 Eleven gas station the other day and asked for five dollars worth of gas.
The clerk farted and gave me a receipt.
Submitted by Bill, Narberth, PA.
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Ten simple rules for dating my daughter...
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If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
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You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so longa s you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
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I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete
idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the
course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
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I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
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It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when
you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
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I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no
one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
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You stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a
process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
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The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where
there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her
throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
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Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with
whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
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Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently
tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return
to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
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