Category: Anecdote (Page 27 of 30)

Dumb, Dumber, and Dumber-er Jokes

July 14, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

The hubby, my brother, and I were watching TV the other evening when the hubby made a joke (many of our jokes revolve around the shtick of one person saying something like “That’s stupid” and the other person saying “You’re stupid”). Later my brother made a pretty bad joke and the hubby said, “That was even dumber than my joke.”

I quickly said to the hubby, “Hah! You just called your joke dumb.” My brother responded (and this is so typical for the two of them to gang up on me!), “Not necessarily.”

That got me thinking…which always means trouble. I argued that in order for joke B (the bro’s) to be dumber than joke A (the hubby’s), joke A has to be dumb as well. In grammar terms, that means there has to be the positive (definition 20)—dumb, tall, beautiful—in order for there to be a comparative (definition 4)—dumber, taller, more beautiful.

Of course, the hubby and bro decided that I was wrong. My brother said, “So does that mean the statement ‘You are dumber than Bill Gates’ says that Bill Gates is dumb?” I said, “Yes.” Just like it doesn’t make sense to say “My brother is smarter than a pencil” because the pencil really doesn’t possess any qualities of smartness, it wouldn’t make sense to say someone is dumber than Bill Gates if Bill Gates doesn’t possess some quality of dumbness.

Now it might make sense to say “My brother is sharper than a pencil,” which at least makes more sense because—although in a punny way—the pencil and my brother both possess qualities of sharpness. Yet, it isn’t really that simple, but we’ll get back to that later.

The boys continued to argue for their point, and the debate really just went in circles for awhile. I think I may have eventually convinced them that from a purist point of view, there really should be a positive in order for there to also be a comparative, but in the real world, it’s just not practical to interpret a comparative statement that way.

For example, a guy says, “That chick is way hotter than that butt-ugly one.” From my argument, he’s saying that the butt-ugly chick is on some level hot, which is not at all what he meant to say. Unless, and this is the real sticky point in this whole thing, you take into account the negative side of the positive.

I know, how convoluted can we get here? But stick with me because I think my brother has an interesting point (and, oh, how I hate to admit that). Can the opposite of the positive (dumb versus smart or hot versus ugly) be considered on the same scale? In that case, you could say someone is dumber than Bill Gates and not have Bill Gates be dumb at all. Instead of the positive of dumb, Bill Gates would be the negative of dumb (i.e. smart) and the comparative would still work.

Definitely something to think about! And for all of you brave souls who made it to the end of this post, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic.

Strawberries Are the Perfect Bite of Summer

June 23, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

The taste of summer is a sweet Popsicle, the way it sticks to your tongue for just a moment before it melts and the juices slip down your throat. Maybe even better than that is the glug of an ice-cold beer pouring from the can, its bubbles tickling your tongue and throat. Even better still is a perfectly cooked hot dog right off the grill, blackened just enough so that it crunches as you bite into its hot, juicy meat.

But hands down, without a doubt, better than all of those treats (no matter how you personally rate them) is the strawberry, and not just any strawberry. I’m talking the perfect strawberry picked with your very own hands from a picturesque field on a sunny hill. The strawberry that was so plump and red you slipped it into your mouth before you even thought of dropping it into the bucket with the others.

In that first bite, you taste the sun-kissed sweetness. The flavor explodes in your mouth and you think Oh, forgive me, strawberry, for ever cooking you or putting you in the refrigerator. I’ll never again taint you with pies, ice cream, or cake. Then the tang bites your tongue. Taste buds you forgot you had wake up and scream in pleasure and you think This is better than…(I’ll let you fill in the blank). Mmmmm…oh, sorry, I think I was drooling a little.

I had just such a strawberry the other day at Jones Family Farm. My husband and I had gone on one of our pick-your-own excursions (we also do this with apples at Bishop’s Orchard in the fall and of course with the veggies in our own garden all summer long). There’s nothing like harvesting your own food and serving it to those you love.

Also at the farm was one little girl who I’m sure understands the camaraderie offered by this activity (although she may not experience the taste of the strawberry in quite the same way as an adult). I don’t know her real name, but I affectionately refer to her as Olivia in my head.

She was picking strawberries with her mom and they were in a row next to a woman who was probably a little bit older than the mom. Olivia chatted with the older woman in the frank manner of a friendly little kid. The woman finished picking and said good-bye. She made it a few rows away before Olivia spoke in a voice as sweet and perfect as the strawberries themselves, “Enjoy your strawberries.” Enjoy, indeed!

Adventures at the Baltimore Orioles Game

May 18, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

Highlights from my first day in Baltimore include catching up with my sister, watching my nephew (the 9-year-old) chase after cars that potentially held Yankee players, getting a ball signed by Andy Pettitte, seeing A-Rod whack a home run off the first ball pitched to him in 2009, and listening to a couple of old ladies chatter away while paying very little attention to the baseball game.

So these ladies were at the game with their husbands. I’m not sure if they had ever been to a baseball game, but they did have some astute observations. For one, they noticed that some of the K’s that were posted on the scoreboard were forwards and some were backwards. They didn’t know what the K’s meant (one of their husbands explained that a K was posted for each strikeout the home team’s picture recorded), but they thought it was nice that some were backwards so the scoreboard didn’t ever show three forward K’s.

(Not that I disagreed about it being nice that there was never three forward K’s in a row, but that’s not the real reason why some of the K’s were backwards. A forward K indicates the batter struck out swinging, and a backward K indicates the batter struck out looking.)

They also noticed how cute some of the baseball players are (hello, Derek Jeter!!!). No arguments there. At one point they asked me if my nephew was my brother, which my nephew found pretty hilarious. I wanted to say to them, “Didn’t you notice my nephew calling my sister ‘Mom’? If I was his sister that would make her my mom as well…not really feasible!”

Then towards the end of the game, they called my husband “the best looking fella” in the stadium, and they also said that they “may be old, but they can still look.” My nephew again found all of this pretty hilarious, so the ladies turned their attention to him. “But you’ll give him a run for his money in a few years. You have beautiful eyes.”

I guess it’s not so bad having the same taste in men as a couple of old ladies. They’ve seen a lot, so they probably have good taste, right? (Let’s hope so for my husband’s sake.)

Star-Spangled Trip to Camden Yards

May 14, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

I went to Camden Yards for the first time this past weekend. I hadn’t been to Baltimore since eighth grade when my class stopped there for a few hours on the way to Washington, D.C, and was pleasantly surprised at all it had to offer. My brother-in-law and my nephew (the 9-year-old) have gone there a bunch of times over the last few years and really love the ballpark.

We went to see the Yankees play the Orioles on Friday and Saturday night. I swear there were as many, if not more, Yankees fans there than Orioles fans. I guess that’s because now you really do have to agree to give up your first-born child in order to pay for tickets to the new Yankee Stadium, unless you want to sit in seats with obstructed views (and I thought engineers were supposed to be smart!). I haven’t even been to the new Yankee Stadium yet and I’m already missing the old one.

Anyway, back to my trip to Baltimore. Let me warn you in advance (because no one bothered to tell me) that if you do go to Camden Yards keep on your guard during the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner. Orioles fans shout “O’s!” (short for Orioles) when it gets to the line “Oh, say does that…” Aside from having thousands of shouting fans scare the crap out of me, I had some mixed feelings about defiling our national anthem (who knew I was such a patriot?).

Up next: How my trip to Baltimore made me realize my observations are right in line with those of a couple of septuagenarians (scary, I know!).

Wandering Around NYC Eating Cannoli

April 2, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

While I was in New York City, I had some time to wander around (okay, hobble around…curse my stupid medial meniscus!). I was in the mood for a cannoli, so I hopped on the subway (thank you hopstop.com) and headed to Veneiro’s Bakery. There seems to be a lot of debate about where to get a good cannoli in Manhattan, but I’m not really that picky. Honestly, can a cannoli really be bad?

I bought six mini cannolis and a little kiwi tart-thingy. The tart reminded me of one of the desserts my husband and I had eaten at the beach barbecue buffet in Tahiti. Ahhh, Tahiti. Just thinking of it makes me so relaxed…

Oh, sorry, was I talking about something…oh, right, cannolis. So I took my pastries and headed back in the direction of the subway station. I passed a church that had a bunch of benches in front of it. Its gates were open and a sign said that the church didn’t close until 1:00 a.m., so I found a nice spot to sit and enjoy the weather.

I didn’t think to check what the name of the church was, but I managed to locate it later on google maps with their street view option. (It’s scary how easy it is to see real street views on that website. Is nothing private anymore?) I was at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery.

I had a book, my kiwi tart, and a cannoli. I had brought my iPod with me, but I found I didn’t need it. Now, I’ve noticed that a lot of my peers–and sadly those from a younger generation–are permanently attached to their music players. Don’t get me wrong, I love my iPod. But it has a place and a time.

On this particular occasion, I didn’t need it. I had the music of the city to listen to. Someone was playing a harmonica. That I couldn’t see this person made it even better. It was music from nowhere, or maybe it was from everywhere. There was the constant chatter of the street: engines, horns, shouts. The shuffle of families, artists, wanderers coming and going. The soft coo of those rats-with-wings (also known as pigeons).

At some point the harmonica’s music stopped, but I didn’t even notice because a guitar picked up right in its place. Then a young woman came and sat a little ways in front of me. She was on her phone. Her tone was serious, angry, sad. “You’re just like lawyer. Always lying…I just can’t keep doing this with you.”

She soon left and a young couple took her place. They didn’t talk much because they were sharing a serving of what looked like fried clams. Still, the crunch of the Styrofoam container, their soft chewing and little murmurs reached my ears. The church bells tolled, reminding me I had a critique appointment and a bum knee that made travel in the city a slow process.

Alas, I had lingered long enough with my music. It was time to go find a new song.