I could almost see your eyes glaze over when you saw today’s title. Could there possibly be any more boring job than number-crunching? Uh, yes. There are jokes about actuaries, mainly along the lines of “Actuaries exist to make accountants look exciting.” But what would we do without accountants? I, for one, would be figuring my own taxes, and that would be a comedy in itself. A lot of you would be throwing your money away, and some of you would be breaking the law, possibly without even knowing it. OK, OK, so a lot of you are doing those things anyway. But believe it or not, accountants can be funny, IF you look at them hard enough. And that’s what I did. This one’s for Carl, LaNelle, and Rebecca.

 
Economics Explained Simply (Thanks, Jan!)

Which leads us to Yoram Bauman, Ph.D. the world's first and only stand-up economist. 

Sometimes when the numbers don’t add up, you want to blame it on little monsters.

Economists watch their charts. Move your mouse around this.

The Cat Accountants Network.

Turnaround: A financial accounting game. I didn’t even try, but you might want to take a stab at it. (via Exploding Aardvark)

How investments work.

The US federal government does their accounting a little differently.  

ACCOUNTANT FAQ

Q. What is the difference between tax avoidance and tax evasion?
A. Jail.

Q. What's the definition of an accountant?
A. Someone who solves a problem you didn't know you had in a way you don't understand.

Q. What's the definition of a good tax accountant?
A. Someone who has a loophole named after him.

Q. When does a person decide to become an accountant?
A. When he realises he doesn't have the charisma to succeed as an undertaker.

Q. What's an extroverted accountant?
A. One who looks at your shoes while he's talking to you instead of his own.

Q. What's an auditor?
A. Someone who arrives after the battle and bayonets all the wounded.

Q. What's an accountant's idea of trashing his hotel room?
A. Refusing to fill out the guest comment card.

Q. How do you drive an accountant completely insane?
A. Tie him to a chair, stand in front of him and fold up a road map the wrong way.

Q. What do accountants suffer from that ordinary people don't?
A. Depreciation.

THE MUSEUM

An accountant visited the Natural History museum. While standing near the dinosaur he said to his neighbor: "This dinosaur is two billion years and ten months old".

"Where did you get this exact information?"

"I was here ten months ago, and the guide told me that the dinosaur is two billion years old."

THE DIAGNOSIS

A patient was at her doctor's office after undergoing a complete physical exam. The doctor said, "I have some very grave news for you. You only have six months to live."

The patient asked, "Oh doctor, what should I do?"

The doctor replied, "Marry an accountant."

"Will that make me live longer?" asked the patient.

"No," said the doctor, "but it will SEEM longer."

Accountant Pickup Lines

You've got a lovely pair of W-2's.

Please, baby, let me withhold you.

Nice assets.

Lady, you make my pants file for an extension.

In my office, I.R.S. stands for I'm Really Sexy.

Let's fill out a 1040 - you are a 10 and I'm a 40.

If I help you screw Uncle Sam, can I be next?

Technically, having sex with me is like a charitable gift.

You're entitled to a $5,000 tax break on your municipal bond income... now let's do it.

You're the kind of girl I could take home to mother - which is good, since I still live with her.

This being the first of the month, my Perfect Post Award for May goes to Tom Reynolds at Random Acts of Reality for the post entitled The Only Time You Will See A Picture Of One Of My Patients. It’s a simple but touching story of how he, along with some firefighters and a dispatcher, saved Smoky the Cat’s life. The Perfect Post Awards are listed at Petroville and Suburban Turmoil. Go see what posts others are recommending this month, and broaden your reading horizons!

Thought for today: The company accountant is shy and retiring. He's shy a quarter of a million dollars. That's why he's retiring. -Milton Berle

humor jokes video funny games accountants accounting bean counters number crunching CPA

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Just over a week ago, I posted a contest and asked for your funny stories about stressful parenting. The contest is sponsored by LTDchix, who print “Living the Dream” T-shirts so you can smile (or at least your shirt will) when you don’t feel like smiling. Thanks big bunches to LTDchix, who have shirts for the winning entrants! Check out their Living the Dream merchandise at their site. Congratulations to Not Over It and to Three Collie for surviving (and writing) the winning entries! Thanks to everyone for a wonderful response! I had considered publishing all the stories, but I received about three times as many as could be put into one post, so these are only the funniest of a funny bunch.

Parents and Kids Having Fun

TENTACLES

by not_over_it
Stress? I left my husband when my son was 3-years-old, and worked two, sometimes three part-time waitressing jobs while going to college full time. Lucky for me, my mom was there to watch him quite often, and I'd sometimes stop there between jobs or school, drink some coffee with mom on the porch, and watch Joe play in the garden.

One day, while he was digging for worms, he started screaming and crying because he was being attacked by tiny red ants.

Other than a few little red marks, he was fine, so I went to work (again), picked him up, had some quality time with him, gave him a bath and put him to bed, then studied for a test the next day until 3:00 a.m..

The next morning I woke up to "Mom. Mom. Mommy!"

Huh? I peeked one eye at my alarm clock, and it was 5:45 a.m., a full hour before we had to be up.

OK, I'll bite, "What's wrong, hon?"

"My tentacles are big."

Uh....

I had been dealing with him discovering how he could make his penis big in a *boing-boing-boing, isn't this fun?* kind of way, not to mention him waking up that way, so I corrected him by saying "I think you mean 'penis', not testicles, and I told you that it's perfectly natural for a boy to wake up with his penis bigger.

I still hadn't opened my eyes yet, and he said "No, Mommy, it's my tensticles, and I don't think this is natural. See?" and pulled down his jammies.

You don't know what it took to keep calm and not say "Oh dear LORD! WTF??? They're the size of freakin' SOFTBALLS!"

Instead I said, "You know, you're right. I think I should call the doctor. Does it hurt?"

The doctor got him in and out before my test, gave him a cream for the allergic reaction to the ant bites, and had one of the best laughs of his life outside the door about Joe's swollen tentacles.

THE MINIVAN

by threecollie of North View Diary
We were off an a hurried shopping trip, hunting for the essentials for the wildly foolish enterprise of hauling a string of show cows to a county fair and spending a week playing valet to them. You know the kind of junk I mean, picture frames, baby oil, fake flowers, baby powder, laundry detergent, shoe polish, and all the other assorted supplies you wouldn't think you would need for a cow but somehow you do.

(Incidentally it seems to cost about as much to take two cows for each of three kids to the fair as it does to feed a third, (heck even second), world nation for a year. All this and you generally win little pieces of colored ribbon...blue is a big favorite...which the kids stuff in the show box under the water hose and pair of dirty sneakers and forget. Now that they are older they take as many as a dozen...but they buy their own goodies.)

Anyhow, we are farmers, rugged country folks. Cell phone! Hah, not us, we communicate in yup/nope New England style.
None of this modern constant contact for us. And even though I had enough quarters to call Alaska from the pay phone and talk for an hour, there was nobody home to answer anyhow.So of course, when my youngest child, a doesn't-know-his-own-strength pre-teen decided to shove the sliding door of the minivan open with his feet, it fell off, right there in the Walmart parking lot.

A minivan door is surprisingly large.

It also has surprisingly little holding it in place. Typically of the city, not a soul even looked at us, let alone offered to help.

Not to be daunted by a mere hole in the car, the kids picked up the door, stuck it back in the great, big, gaping opening in the side of the car, locked it and we hurried into Wally World to acquire the Tide, Clorox, colorful fabric, staples and staple gun etc. etc. etc. that they needed. Dozens of dollars later we stood beside the car again, faced with the prospect of driving home with a door that was just sort of leaning on the side of the car, held in place only by the lock. Of course it wouldn't fit inside. (Especially not with three kids and all the cow show stuff.) I really didn't want to leave it lying there like a really large piece of litter and drive home with the whole side of the car open.

What to do, what to do...of course, the van was a typical mother-car filled with all the stuff that kids leave behind, McDonald's wrappers, smelly sneakers, books, you name it. It was also a farmer-car, so there were tools, tractor parts, baling twine and many mysterious objects of unknown origin or use inside it too. There were also several ropes that we used to tie the dogs at camp. After all, show season comes right after camp season and who has time to clean the car? The Border Collies and like to herd water so we never let them into the lake without long ropes attached. Otherwise they would just swim away.

We wrapped the dog ropes around the whole car and through the windows of the door. The end result was that we had to climb in through the back, as we had to tie the front doors shut to hold the sliding door in place. We also locked it and proceeded home, successfully managing to negotiate the ten mile trip without a single casualty. (I think that was the year Lizzie won grand champion with her old cow, Dixie, so I guess it was probably even worth it. It was also the year we locked both sets of keys and all the show halters in the car on show day, but that is another story.)

Sadly, we never found a mechanic that could fix the darned door, so we drove it with the door fastened closed and unopenable for a number of years, before (finally) this spring we bought a car with doors that all work. The kids are having a hard time getting used to not having to crawl over the front seat to get in though.

THE BRA

by Omegamom
...in the early days after the dotter came home, I remember juggling her and my clothes in the bathroom (she was at a stage where I had to have her in my arms or on my lap all the time), I managed, rather than putting my bra on, to dip it in the toilet...the memory is very hazy, all I remember is that when I emailed the story to my gals at work, they all laughed and said, "You're a mommy now!"

CURRY

by Lorena from Live from Sublurbia
The things they don't put in baby books could ... fill a book.

Sometimes I wonder about baby books.

Why don't they tell you not to rub the baby down with a little curry powder?

So, as some of you may have heard, I had a fun morning. 11am I get a call from daycare that Wolfie has a red rash all over his tummy and backside and diaper area that came seemingly out of nowhere. I call the hub to consult, as he changed the diaper this morning. Wolfie had some rash in the diaper area, but not all over, this morning.

I head over there, and yeah, he's got a major rash in an odd pattern ... his tummy and backside and diaper area ... but not his upper chest. A couple of spots on his legs and arms. That's it.

I rushed him to the ped (after managing to lock him in the car and get him out with the help of fire rescue and a handy tile guy) after some snacking and snoozing and she helped me track it down.

He had oatmeal at 7pm last night, and we had curry and cauliflower for dinner. The only thing 'new'.

The culprit? The curry. Both the and I had cooked up the curried beef and been exposed to curry particles ... though we'd washed our hands ... we hadn't changed our shirts. No wonder cooks wear aprons.

So, I got him naked and the hub bathed him ... and he got all kinds of curry powder on his poor little skin. Some Benadryl and he should be fine in a few days.

Note to self: if I ever write a baby book, note in big letters:
Do not rub the baby down with curry powder

ART APPRECIATION

by lizinsac
My husband and I consider ourselves pretty hip and have always tried to expose our son, Spencer, to music, art, etc. We took him to San Francisco when he was about 4 and one of our stops was SFMOMA, where they had a Magritte exhibit. 

Spencer took quite an interest in the surrealistic images and I was busy congratulating myself on having such a precocious kid. What I didn't realize was that he was leaning closer and closer to study one of these priceless paintings when he lost his balance. His head thunked solidly into the middle of the painting and there were gasps of horror from the other people in the room. I had one of those out-of-body moments of sheer horror as I jerked him away, imagining a nice head-shaped hole in the canvas. There didn't seem to be any damage, though, so I fled as fast as I could, dragging a clueless Spencer behind me.

CLEAN UNDERWEAR

by Chicomathmom
As I was folding the weekly laundry, I noticed that I had only folded 2 pairs of underwear for my son. I gave him a short talk about hygiene and told him that I expected to see more underwear next week.

Next week, there were 12 pairs in the laundry, most of them unworn...

Moral: Be careful what you ask for!

CLOWNING AROUND

by Liz Branch
My youngest son, Colin, was four years old and in preschool.  His younger brother, Quentin was two, and while Colin was a quiet, introspective child, Quentin was a tempest -- always on the go and curious about everything.  At the end of the preschool year, Colin's teacher planned a picnic outing for the class at a nearby park.  She casually asked me one day if I knew of anyone who might be interested in dressing up like a clown for the entertainment.  Being the enthusiastic mom that I was, and usually up for just about anything where my kids were concerned, I gamely volunteered.

I had an old Halloween costume in a closet somewhere, complete with red ball nose and enormous clown shoes.  The morning of the picnic, I spent an hour working on my makeup, which was a masterpiece!  White face paint, black outlined eyes, red exaggerated mouth.  And the finishing touch: a huge kinky rainbow-colored wig!  I was a dynamite clown!  I loaded up the car with our picnic basket, and stowed the kids in their car seats.  Off we went.

It was a beautiful day; the park was on the banks of a lake, and the sun was dancing on the water.  A soft breeze wafted around the picnic area.  In spite of being in the heart of Deep South Mississippi, it was a surprisingly pleasant day.  As I walked towards the already assembled group, some of the kids spotted me and ran towards me.  I was in character, laughing and telling jokes and talking to the children as they clambored around me.  Some were asking who I "really" was, but I said, "I am really Clara the Clown!"

Colin & Quentin ran off to check out the swings.  I was concentrating on my clown duties, when suddenly a child ran up to me with an anxious look on his face.  "Quentin fell off the swing!"  Oh dear, I thought, turning in that direction.  "...and he's bleeding a LOT!"  Adrenalin kicked in and I rushed over to my screaming child.  He had fallen backwards off the swing and landed on a strategically placed sharp rock.  I swooped him up and took him to one of the picnic tables, where another mom, who happened to be a nurse, examined him.  There was a huge gash in the back of Quentin's head, with gaping edges. 

Every mom on the planet knows what gaping edges means.  She said, "He'll need stitches." 

My heart fell down to somewhere around my knees.  "Stitches?  Are you SURE?  No, really?"  and she nodded, trying to stifle a giggle.  I suddenly remembered my appearance, and the prospect of taking Quentin to a hospital for sitches in my current state of dress became a reality.

Game mom that I was, I thought, oh well, the doctors will get a kick out of this one!  And into the car we went.  A quick phone call to my husband, to meet us at the doctor's office, and off we went.  I thought, "I can do this.  This is funny!  What a great story ..." trying to convince myself, while Quentin wailed from the back seat.  However as we got closer I got a sick feeling in my gut that wouldn't go away.  I was embarassed and sweating.  We arrived at the office, where I took a deep breath and opened the door.  Every face in the waiting room turned in unison to watch our grand entrance.  I could hear a few snickers and several kids yelled, "Mommy look!  A clown!" a little  louder than they really needed to.  All of the nurses were giggling at me, and what could I do?  I just shrugged and wished that the floor would open up and swallow me.

Walking into the exam room, the doctor raised an eyebrow.  "Well, we'll just have to put you to work here!" he said, then proceeded to stitch up poor Quentin's head.  All was well that ended well, but I swore up and down that my volunteering days were way over.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

by AprilMay
"I need to talk to you two," I said nervously, wringing my hands. My boys exchanged looks. They could tell I was serious about something. They sat down. I had been putting off this conversation for three months, but it was time to tell them.

I paced in front of them. "Look," I began. "There's, um, I mean, you should know that..." I took a deep breath. "I'mgoingtohaveababy."

They stared at me. I reached blindly for a bottle of beer, but my hand came back with a bottle of water, because I am not allowed to have beer. I took a swig anyway. I cleared my throat.

"So, um, did you hear me?" I asked. Trenton looked away. Tristan stood up.

"MOM!" he said. "Why are you and Dad still doing THAT?!"

I choked on my water. I turned red. He stood with his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer.

"Um." I said. "Well. You see, when two people are married, they do THAT. Because THAT is, well..." I paused and wished for a beer again. "THAT is something fun that married people do. Sometimes."

Trenton looked up. "When, exactly, did you DO that?" he asked. "I mean, which day?"

I wished I was far away. I wished an earthquake would swallow up our house.

"See, honey" I stammered. "I don't know which day exactly."

"You mean you did THAT more than once?" Tristan asked, horrified.

I hung my head. "Yes" I muttered.

"They do it when we are ASLEEP, dummy" said Trenton. Tristan poked him. Trenton poked him back. They shoved each other, and began to wrestle on the floor.

I stood there, looking at them. I realized that, come September, I will have a 15 year old, a 12 year old, and a newborn. I started to get a headache.

Trenton shoved his brother off him and stood up. He looked me in the eye. "Mom," he said seriously. "You really should have used birth control."

I gaped at him. I wanted to tell him we WERE using birth control. I wanted to tell him that I was not even supposed to be able to get pregnant. I wanted to go back to pretending like my boys knew nothing about us having actual sex. But we were past that point now. There was only one thing left to do.

"C'mon," I said. "Get your baseball stuff. It's time to go to practice."

Pretend like the conversation never happened. It was the only way to preserve my sanity.

(Miss C’s note: the doctor says AprilMay will have another boy! Follow her story on her blog.)

Funny in Any Language

Thought for today: You know you've lost control when you're the one who goes to your room. -Baba Bell Hajdusiewicz

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Back when I had a real job (which is a funny thing to say, because we often talked about quitting radio and getting a “real job”), the other women (who were all much younger) and I would discuss various men. Occasionally, the reaction would be “Eww, he’s so OLD!” and I’d have to admit that, ahem, he’s my age. Some young people might get grossed out by the thoughts of grandma gettin’ some, but I find the idea strangely comforting. If the elderly are having any sex, then they’re doing better than I am! So, OK, maybe I have something to look forward to. Or not. What’s scary is that there are so many elderly women compared to the number of elderly men, so guys, please, for my sake, take care of your health!

Meet your local phone sex worker. (Thanks, Jan!)

Are you ever too old to orgy?

Senior dating: Hey, Cutie-Pie, I’ve got Viagra!

From the Smoking Gun, Sex in the nursing home. 

SOCIAL SECURITY

 

A retired gentlemen went into the social security office to apply for Social Security. After waiting in line a long time, he got to the counter.

The woman behind the counter asked him for his drivers license to verify his age. He looked in his pockets and realized he had left his wallet at home.

He told the woman that he was very sorry but he seemed to have left his wallet at home. "Will I have to go home and come back now?" he askes,

The woman says, "Unbutton your shirt."

So he opens his shirt revealing lost of curly silver hair.

She says, "That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me." and she processed his Social Security application.

When he gets home, the man excitedly tells his wife about his experience at the Social Security office.

She said, "You should have dropped your pants, you might have qualified for disability, too."

THE PICKUP

(via Phil’s Phun)
I pulled an older woman at a club last night. She was a right sort for 57. We drank a bit, had a bit of a snog & she asked if I'd ever had the sportsman's double, a mother and daughter 3 some?

I said no.

We drank a bit more, then she says that tonight was my lucky night. I went back to her place.

She put the hall light on & and shouted upstairs:

"Mum, you still awake?"

GETTING YOUR MONEY'S WORTH

(via It Occurred to Me)
A couple, both age 76, went to a sex therapist's office. The doctor asked, "What can I do for you?"

The man said, "Will you watch us have sexual intercourse?" The doctor looked puzzled, but agreed.

When the couple finished, the doctor said, "There's nothing wrong with the way you have intercourse," and charged them $50. This happened several weeks in a row. The couple would make an appointment, have intercourse with no problems, pay the doctor, then leave.

Finally, the doctor asked, "Just exactly what are you trying to find out?"

The old man said, "We're not trying to find out anything. She's married and we can't go to her house, I'm married and we can't go to my house. The Holiday Inn charges $90; the Hilton charges $108. We do it here for $50 and I get $43 back from Medicare."

PRENUPTUAL AGREEMENT

(via Old Horsetail Snake)
Here's a pre-nuptial agreement, senior style:

An elderly couple in their 80s were about to get married.

She: "I want to keep my house."

He: "That's fine with me."

She: "And I want to keep my Cadillac."

He: "That's fine with me."

She: "And I want to have sex six times a week."

He: "That's fine with me. Put me down for Fridays."

ELDER SEX

Two senior citizens were bragging about their sex lives in the elderly homes, "Can you still do it? I have sex with my wife twice a week. How many can you do?"

"Oh, I do it almost every night of the week!"

"Almost every night!!?????"

"Yup! Almost Monday, Almost Tuesday, Almost Wednesday,............"

SHORTIES

(via It Occurred to Me)
Two old ladies were sitting on the porch at the old folks home. One turned to the other and asked "Martha, you were married a long time, did you and your husband have mutual orgasm?"

The other little old lady sat and rocked for a minute and said, "No, I think we had State Farm."
--------------------------------
Two elderly ladies are sitting on the front porch, doing nothing. One old lady turns to the other and asks, "Do you still get horny?"

The other replies, "Oh sure I do."

The first old lady asks, "What do you do about it?"

The second old lady replies, "I suck a lifesaver."

After a few moments, the first old lady asks, "Who drives you to the beach?"
----------------------------
It was three o'clock in the morning, and the receptionist at a posh hotel was just dozing off, when a little old lady comes running towards her screaming. "Please come quickly!" she yelled, "I just saw a naked man outside my window!"

The receptionist immediately rushes up to the old lady's room. "Where is he?" asked the receptionist.

"He's over there," replied the little old lady, pointing to an apartment building opposite the hotel.

The receptionist looks over and could see a man with no shirt on, moving around his apartment. "It's probably a man who's getting ready to go to bed," she said reassuringly. "And how do you know he's naked, you can only see him from the waist up?"

"The dresser, honey!" screamed the old lady. "Try standing on the dresser!"
----------------------------
An elderly couple sat through a porno movie twice. They didn't get up to leave until the theater was ready to close for the night.

"You folks must've enjoyed the show," the usher said.

"Disgusting!" said the old lady.

"It was revolting," her husband added.

"Then why did you sit through it twice?" the usher asks.

"We had to wait until you turned up the house lights," the old lady replied. "We couldn't find my panties and his teeth were in them!"

Previously on Miss Cellania: Sex and the Senior Citizen and Senior Sex

Thought for today: The older you get, the better you get, (unless you're a banana).

humor jokes video funny senior sex elderly old relationships

 

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I’ve done a few posts on various states, and one city several times, but an entire nation? OK! I know a lot of Canadian bloggers, so this one’s dedicated to all of them: the Useless Men (Ontario), Canadian Cynic (Ontario), Mortimer’s Mom (Quebec), Saskboy of Abandoned Stuff (Saskatchewan), Walker of Lost Here and Beyond (Ontario), Simply Coll of Colleen’s Corner (Manitoba), Homo Escapeons (Manitoba), Old Guy (Ontario), Gary from Withinsight (British Columbia), the Blue Beaver Beer guys (Alberta), Kipling West of the  Seven Deadly Sinners  (Alberta), and Jack Ruttan (Quebec). I’m sure I’ve left someone out, because I possibly don’t know where you’re from, OK? Forgive me, eh?

I am Canadian

An entertaining cartoon: Canadians for Global Warming.

The Useless Men explain Canada.

The Usless Men take on a dis to Canada.

And the language:
Dear Useless Men,
Follow-up question; why don't yuoz guyz in Canadia spell words the way they're pronounced, like "oot", "aboot" and "agaynst"? Just thought I'd ax.
Mr Incredulous

Canada has scientists, they just need more drama to make an impact. (via Abandoned Stuff)

The Useless Men explain Tim Horton and his donuts.

Beaver (via From the Alamo City)

Saskatoon

(Thanks, Saskboy!)
An American man was riding a train through Canada on his first visit to the country. On his way through the prairies, he fell asleep watching endless crops and awoke in a city. Feeling a little disoriented as he got off the train for a rest stop, he asked someone who appeared to be a local inhabitant where he was.

"Saskatoon, Saskatchewan," replied the local.

"Pardon me," said the American, "but I only speak English."

You Know You’re From Manitoba When...

1. You only know three spices - salt, pepper and ketchup.
2. You design your Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.
3. The mosquitoes have landing lights.
4. You have more miles on your snowblower than your car.
5. You have 10 favourite recipes for moose meat.
6. Canadian Tire on any Saturday is busier than the toy stores at Christmas.
7. You live in a house that has no front step, yet the door is one meter above the ground.
8. You've taken your kids trick-or-treating in a blizzard.
9. Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled in with snow.
10. You owe more money on your snowmobile than your car.
11. The local paper covers national and international headlines on 1/4 page, but requires 6 pages for sports.
12. At least twice a year, the kitchen doubles as a meat processing plant.
13. The most effective mosquito repellent is a shotgun.
14. Your snowblower gets stuck on the roof.
15. You think the start of moose season is a national holiday.
16. You head south to go to your cottage.
17. You frequently clean grease off your barbeque so the bears won't prowl on your deck.
18. You know which leaves make good toilet paper.
19. The major parish fund-raiser isn't bingo - it's sausage making.
20. You find -40C a little chilly.
21. The trunk of your car doubles as a deep freezer.
22. You attend a formal event in your best clothes, your finest jewelry and your Sorels.
23. You can play road hockey on skates.
24. You know 4 seasons - Winter, Still Winter, almost Winter and Construction.
25. The municipality buys a Zamboni before a bus.

I Am Not American -the Arrogant Worms

If you liked that, you’ll also enjoy their song Canada’s Really Big.

Canadian Complaints about Americans

Editor's Note: naturally we don't have enough room to catalog all of them, but here's the top ten.

10. Won't acknowledge enormous cultural contributions of Jim Carrey and Howie Mandel.

9. We're pretty sure they're holding Wayne Gretzky down there against his will.

8. Every time we mention the city "Regina", they won't stop giggling.

7. Incredibly, they only have one word for "snow".

6. In American encyclopedias, Canada often called "North Dakota's gay neighbor".

5. They call it American cheese, even though it was invented by Gordon Lightfoot.

4. They've never even heard of our most popular superhero, Captain Saskatchewan.

3. Two words: "Weird Al".

2. Sick of that gap-toothed looser on "The Late Show with Paul Shaffer".

1. Not enough guys named "Gordie".

Thought for today: In Canada we have enough to do keeping up with two spoken languages without trying to invent slang, so we just go right ahead and use English for literature, Scotch for sermons and American for conversation. -Stephen Leacock

PS: This is the last day to get your entry in for the Living the Dream T-shirt contest -read the details here, and send yours in before midnight!

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