Punday Monday #34! Happy Valentine's Day! Also PRIZES! Join the fun! Enter this contest!
Happy punday, all!
Last week's PUNtries were sPUN here:
(the picture is clickable! But here's the link, just so no one is confused...
If you're not sure how to properly pun, here's the how-to :
https://steemit.com/contest/@improv/puns-and-prizes-learn-to-pun-easy-fun-anybody-can-be-a-hit-at-parties
Be a cool PUNk, read that junk!
Last week's POCKET choice award winner was
https://steemit.com/pocket/@improv/oops-pocket-friday-on-saturday
... @doctorcrypto! Congrats! A warm welcome back to the fold (ed clothing... this is a laundry basket of humor)!
The folks in the POCKET Choice winner's circle are @miniature-tiger, @lilygolightly, @chrisroberts, @stinawog, @doctorcrypto, @heroic15397, @littlescribe, @diebitch, and @paul.atreides.
On to the winner!
We had a trio of delightfully unexpected puns... Joey (the baby kangaroos), Geoid (the earth) and Choy-ed (cabbage). We also had a trio of jokes I didn't get, but I am happy nonetheless to appreciate the odd nonsense they contained... something about a sand boy? And fleas? I don't know. I loved them regardless.
There was no video winner this week, unfortunately, but our big winner is...
@paul.atreides! for taking his pun the extra step and teaching us about kangaroo contraceptive studies.
Yay!
The winner winners win an upvote from me on a post of their choice along with a @tipu tip! Include your link with the next pun you post, @doctorcrypto and @paul.atreides!
This week!
I want you to pun about Valentine's Day stuff! @haphazard-hstead is not having a party, unfortunately, but we should provide plenty of entertainment over here that it overflows onto her property! Make each other laugh!
Here's a pun!
Aphrodite's dentist told her she'd eaten too much candy. She opened her mouth and two matching baby angels with quivers and heart-shaped bows flew out. "Yes, that's what happens. You've lost your bi-cupids."
A little Valentine Day history. It started in Rome. Italians love this special day. There is a little town in Oklahoma: Krebs. Krebs has a world class Italian market which just happens to also carry some great beef jerky made by the country star Reba McIntire.
Reba was due to make a delivery to the store before that special day, but when she neared the location, it was flooded due to a recent downpour. She called Mario and told him her dilemma. He responded that he and his mother had to go by row boat to get to the store that day, so he told Reba to meet him at the highway.
Mom and Mario soon arrived in the little boat and Mario yelled to Reba, "Just throw me the jerky and I will catch it. Reba gave her jerky the best toss she could muster. Mario caught it and took a deep, loving sniff. "Ah Reba jerky. Row Ma. "
Molto bene!!!
grazie mille
Q:How do you calculate speed at which you fall in love with her?
A: Inamorater
Sometimes, because of the everyday struggles of life, a love relationship begins to bog down. This is natural. However, don't just stand there. If you want to get the love juices moving again, this Valentines Day, be sure to buy her flow-ers.
What did Rey write in her Star Wars-themed valentine for Luke Skywalker? “You’re the Obi-Wan for me.”
Ever since my father's untimely death as a child, I was afflicted by a speech impediment which manifested as temporary muteness. Often, when I did finally find my voice, the wrong sound would come out. For example, if I wished to say "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori", the phrase would come out as "dolce et decorum est, pro patria mori": complete gibberish.
Looking back now, I suppose the reason why my father's untimely death as a child was so spectacularly terrifying to me, was that when he died, he was much the same age as I was. I had always assumed that dying was for the old and infirm, or at the very least the adult, and not children like us. My father's death as a child brought the whole weight of mortality crushing down upon my larynx, and there it stayed for at least ten years.
Eventually I came of age and inherited the public house my father had bequeathed me, and my impediment grew less and less severe. By the age of seventeen I was quite well acquainted with that elixir of lubrication, to the extent that with a regime of daily medicaments I could quite confidently work my lips, expounding theories of beauty and death and country to any poor fellow who wanted a drink. With enough liquid elocution I could "Peter Piper" with the thest of bem, even adding little flourishes and trills here and there as I saw fit.
With the passage of time, I eventually sprouted into something of a gentleman. True, I had always been quite eager to doff my hat to any she-beings entering the bar, and was quite lenient and compassionate on the matter of ladies lounging in the men's bar (which constituted the entire tavern but one room). But all compassionate sensitivities were thrown by the wayside when Esmerelda walked in.
Esmerelda was five-foot six and the first time I saw her, I noticed from the bulge in her crinoline that she wore an electric self-strapping garter attached to her dominant leg. Her hair was bright and radiant and changed colour depending on the gloom of the tavern or the time of the day. My friends, I was in love.
Esmerelda, beauty upon beauty, walked up to the bar and politely and straightforwardly asked me for a Tom Shandy's Electric Hairnet. Her voice overflowed with husky whispered thimbles of maple syrup, a punnet of strawberries and a can of clotted cream. I felt my ears go hot and stammered in the affirmative. I knew how to make a Tom Shandy's Electric Hairnet; I had made about ten a night for the last two years, and the whole ritual of squeezing the coconut and electrocuting the orangutang had become so engrained in my muscle memory that I suspect I could do it lobotomised. But still, I fumbled. I smashed two highball glasses trying to unhook the defibrillator. I spilt half the coconut on the ground. I could see my sweat dripping down onto the electrodes as I tried to stick them on Pete, the orangutang.
And yet, despite knowing that my irrational nerves were ruining a perfectly good Tom Shandy's Electric Hairnet, this knowledge only encouraged my nerves more and more.
Finally, I finished what I deemed to be an acceptable drink. It wasn't the best Tom Shandy's Electric Hairnet I had made, and it certainly wasn't the best Electric Hairnet that Tom Shandy had made, but it was passable nonetheless. Embarrassed by my sweat on the glass, I put it down on the bar instead of passing it to Esmerelda directly. "Nice day", I tried to say. But I couldn't get the word out. Nothing came. I strained my throat. Nothing came. Esmerelda looked at me with her eyes, before taking a sip of the Tom Shandy. "Good Shandy", she said. I blushed. I loosened my throat. Nothing came. I cleared my throat. Nothing came. I took a sip of water. Nothing came. Esmerelda picked up her Tom Shandy and went to the ladies' lounge.
I just couldn't find the right vowel in time.
Explanation: I got a bit carried away, didn't I?
I ended up going quite mad here and so posted this as a separate post as well. I hope you don't mind that it's so long and I've put it in two places. It did genuinely start as a terrible pun and grew from there, but I understand if you would rather I remove it. Just let me know.
This is one of the greatest works of art it is my privilege to host. I am proud and then some that this little contest has inspired such a twinkling of nonsense wrapped in a shaggy dog.
I love it, don't you dare delete it, and thank you for engaging with that fellow. It is far less exhausting when you know you have allies.
Oh, I'm so glad, thank you!
And I'm glad you had the courage to speak up about it because otherwise I might not have. Despite all my years of cynicism, it's heartbreakingly hard to believe that anybody could be so cruel and so naive to not understand the hurt they are causing, or worse yet doing it on purpose.
Great!
As my very ethnic accented grandmother would say: "Val'tines ken be a lon'ly day fer single people. Tha empt'ness in dem es so loud ya ken nearly hear't."
@haphazard-hstead isn't going going to throw a party on Valentine coz he's in apathy serving villains' time and there's nothing to throw there but rocks unless, of course, you don't mind being served rocks for Valentine.
Awww. I skipped the parties this Valentine's Day. I'll have a party, eventually. They are fun and I hope you show up. I'm sure @improv will let all the Pun-sters know! :D
Lol
Nah, I can't reply to that.
Maybe I can; let me think...
: )
All their parties are thebombdotcom
When you live in Paris, the city that perfected the Art of Louvre, but you're like "Bah humbug, I hate Valentine's Day" does this make you a Dickensian Scoeurge?
So many entendres!
Double, the en-TENDERing❤️
What sweet treat did the astronaut get his wife for Valentine’s Day? Moon pies.
Brendan, I think you should get Stina some chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s Day because as a new mom she deserves something BERRY special.