Sounds Like A Super Messy Pile-Up

, , , , , , | Working | December 19, 2017

(A major pile-up has occurred on the interstate, and the medic has made a group call to several of the nearby hospitals. Of all the people needing medical care, there are 14 Priority-Three, meaning they need emergency services. I’m at [Hospital #3], and ambulance calls are on a loud speakerphone.)

Medic: “[Hospital #1], how many can you take?”

Hospital #1: “[Hospital #1] is on trauma bypass right now.”

(This means their ER is full, but they can squeeze people in if it’s life or death.)

Medic: “Okay. [Hospital #2], how many can you take?”

Hospital #2: “[Hospital #2] can take five.”

Medic: “[Hospital #3], how many can you take?”

Hospital #3: “[Hospital #3] can take five.”

Medic: “[Hospital #4], how many can you take?”

Hospital #4: “[Hospital #4] can take approximately half as many patients as the other hospitals.”

(Cue the puzzled looks.)

Medic: “Okay, [Hospital #4], we’ll put you down for 2.5 patients.”

(Everyone cracked up, and started debating on whether the half patient would be top, bottom, left, or right.)

Exchanging Christmas Stories

, , , , , , , , | Related | December 19, 2017

(My stepfather’s family gets together for an early Christmas party. After lunch, there’s a gift exchange in which people choose a gift from under the tree at random, and then can trade or steal gifts. These are just a few of the items people unwrapped, with their reactions:)

Older Woman: “Okay, I got… Old Spice.”

Man Next To Her: “Ooh, it says ‘Swagger!’”

My Brother: “Looks like… a four-person tent!”

Me: “Awesome, but maybe you can get someone who’s not deathly allergic to bees to steal it?”

Mom: *to young man* “Hey, steal that Old Spice!”

Man: “Nah, I’ll unwrap this one… It’s a foot bath.” *he isn’t impressed*

Mom: “I told you to steal the Old Spice.”

Young Woman: “Okay, I got… ammo.”

(Most people at the table “ooh” and “ahh.”)

Young Woman: “Wait, I can’t take this home! [Husband] is on probation! Hey, [Next Person], can you steal this?”

Next Person: “Sorry, my husband’s not allowed to own a gun, either.”

(As my mom said, a gift exchange isn’t about getting something you want; you just show up for the funny stories.)

Your Irony Is Going Up In Smoke

, , , | Working | December 18, 2017

(We are coming up to Guy Fawkes Night, which many people celebrate with fireworks.)

Colleague: “I don’t believe in fireworks. You’re just setting fire to $20 and watching it go up in smoke.”

Me: “A perfectly reasonable reaction, except that you’re a pack-a-day smoker.”

Making A Blanket Statement About The Rest Of Your Lives

, , , , , , , | Romantic | December 18, 2017

(My boyfriend is a born and raised Hawaiian. Being part of the military, his posts have put him in deserts. As you can imagine, therefore, it doesn’t take much to get him cold. He hasn’t been in Oklahoma for very long, either, so winter nights are always fun. I, on the other hand, get hot way too easily. To keep the bill low, he has elected to keep the AC and heater off and rely on blankets and fans. One night, I wake up shivering, which rarely happens. That’s when I notice all the blankets are bundled at his feet. I’m still groggy, so I pull at the blankets to no avail.)

Me: “Babe. Babe, share.”

Boyfriend: *mumbles something*

Me: “I can’t understand you, and I’m cold. Share the blankets.”

Boyfriend: “They’re for my toes.”

Me: *rolls eyes* “So, we’ll tuck them in again.”

Boyfriend: *turns and looks me in the eye, then speaks in a very stern voice* “This is just the way it has to be now.”

(He then turned back around and went back to snoring. I finally managed to wrangle the blankets from him, doing my best to not laugh too loudly. He doesn’t remember ever saying that, and I don’t intend to let him live it down any time soon.)

Farming Out The Same Old Story

, , , , , | Romantic | December 17, 2017

(My wife has had her car for nine years and is very sentimentally attached to it, but it has to go, as its transmission has just failed, and it is far too small to haul around the coming baby. I manage to find a buyer for just a couple hundred bucks who’ll use it until it’s kaput and then junk it. I sign the papers, take the money, and shake hands with the guy, and then call my wife at work as he drives off.)

Me: “Hi, honey. It’s sold and gone.”

Wife: “Where are they taking it?”

Me: “I assume to his home?”

Wife: “Is he taking it to a farm?”

Me: *catching on* “Yes. To a nice farm where there will be lots of space for it to drive around with other cars and play all day.”

Wife: “And it can chase scooters and cyclists?”

Me: “You bet. It might even catch a few.”

Wife: “Okay, I feel better, then. See you tonight.”

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