Early Thursday, Late Wednesday Humor

[vanagon40]

Okay, I had my first colonoscopy today, so I’m in the mood for a little humor.  Post-procedure, I was instructed that on the day of the procedure I was: 1) not to drive; 2) not to drink alcohol; 3) not to sign important documents; and 4) not to engage in “any activity which takes physical or mental skills.”  I agreed to meet them halfway and take the day off work and not sign any important documents.  Instead to I drove to the liquor store and purchased beer for immediate consumption.

Here are the jokes:

FIRST JOKE:

   At the end of the college semester, a philosophy professor administered the final exam to his students.  The class was seated and ready to begin when the professor picked up his chair, set it on top of his desk, and wrote on the chalkboard: “Using everything we have learned this semester, and in as few words as possible, prove that this chair does not exist.”
   Fingers flew and notebooks were filled as the students spent the class period attempting to refute the existence of the chair.  One member of the class, however, finished in less than a minute, quickly turned in his paper, and left.
   Weeks later, when the grades were posted, the rest of the group wondered how he could have gotten an A when he had barely written anything at all.
   His answer had consisted of just two words: "What chair?”

SECOND JOKE:

   A woman realized her grandson had been watching too many reality shows when they attended a family wedding.  As the four bridesmaids walked down the aisle toward the front of the church, the little boy turned to his grandmother and asked, “Is this the part where the groom decides which one he wants to marry?”

   I must credit the Liguorian (a Catholic publication) for the previous jokes.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY:

   Although this sounds somewhat like an urban legend (friend of a friend), this actually happened to my wife’s cousin’s son (who attended the same school as my children).  Steve was taking an exam at a Catholic high school.  The teacher was a stickler that all work was to be completed in ink, not pencil.  Unfortunately, during the exam, Steve’s pen quit working, and not having a spare, Steve completed the remainder of the exam in pencil.  Not wanting to be penalized for using a pencil, Steve wrote a note at the top of his paper: “My pen is broke.”

   Steve was quit shocked the following day when all hell broke loose and he was asked to explain why he had written a lewd comment on his test paper.  Apparently, there was not an easily discernible space between the words “pen” and “is.”

[Hoosier Valk]

I've never been good at spelling. In 4th grade I had a spelling test and one of the words was "shirt". I left out the r and it became shi*, the teacher made me take it home and have my mother sign it.

[Super Santa]

On the subject of Colonoscopies... Colonoscopies are no joke, but these
comments during the exam were quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:
1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!
2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'
3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'
4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'
5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.' BLEEP, BLEEP
6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'
7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'
8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'
9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!
10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'
11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'
12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'
13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up
there?' 

[Super Santa]

ABOUT THE WRITER Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for
a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a
microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it
to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's
enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.
Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In
accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I
had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.
Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder
together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water.
(For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 ounces.)
Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because
MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and
urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great
sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel
movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off
your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but:
Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you
apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and
totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a
room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained
space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.

Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already
lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this is, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling
'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I
was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was
looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.