FAVORITE JUMBOTRON MOMENTS
FAVORITE BIRD CATCHER
FAVORITE TICKET SCALPING STRATEGY
FAVORITE GOAL SCORER
FAVORITE LIBRARY ANTICS
Dear No Turn on Red Sign,
Just checking in to see if you were hanging in there. It must be a little depressing that no one ever heeds your simple, straight-forward instructions. Each and every day, people completely disregard your sole purpose in life and it must be frustrating to be proven pointless day after day. Yes, there are a few people who heed you from time to time, but they are inevitably upset at you for taking away one of the small luxuries they do have in the midst of their hectic day. Keep your head up, at least you’re not a No U-Turn Sign.
At long last, the day you didn’t even know you’d been waiting for has finally arrived! Welcome to borderlinefunny.com. We, the founders of borderlinefunny.com, are a
conglomerate pair of insanely hilarious somewhat funny minds with a wealth of funny information small amount of minimally laughable material to share with the world. We strive to make you laugh at least half of the time you’re here. By setting our sights on this less-than-lofty goal, maybe we’ll surprise ourselves, and you, from time to time and get a few chuckles.
As a way of introduction, and to let you get to know the geniuses behind borderlinefunny.com a little better, we decided to conduct this informative and awe-inspiring interview . . . you’re welcome ahead of time.
What are your names?
Everett “Ev” Bracken and Gertrude “Steve” Efird.
Are those your stage names?
Do they sound like stage names?
Do you call it “borderline” funny because it is humor about illegal immigration?
That’s a stupid question and “borderline” offensive.
Is running borderlinefunny.com your full-time job?
Not yet, but if this whole new-fangled ”internet” thing sticks around, then maybe so.
Who writes better stuff?
No, I mean between the two of you?
If it really made you laugh, then it was mine (Ev).
If you got into a fight, who would win?
Steve – Well, I’m 6’5″ and have the reach advantage, and Ev is slow and not in great shape.
Ev – Hey! I’m in shape. Round is a shape.
Steve – Where did you get that joke, the 1984 Columbus Insurance Commissioners’ Conference?
Do you put your pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us?
Nope. Our wives hold them up about 5 feet off the ground, and we repel into them from the ceiling. It’s pretty invigorating, but really inconvenient.
Why are you doing this site?
What do you mean by “doing?”
You know, what’s your purpose for operating this site?
Those guys are great actors, but not comedians.
Is there a question in there somewhere?
If someone wants to pay you $1 million to write a movie script for them, how can they contact you?
Did you mean to start that sentence with ”if” or “when?” When that time comes, they can go to our contact page.
Thanks for your time.
Ev – Why are we acting like there is an actual person interviewing us?
Steve – It looks more official and makes us seem big time.
Ev – Oh, good point.
Dear Dippin’ Dots Ice Cream,
Why do you hail yourself as “The Ice Cream of the Future?” By making this assertion, you have constantly frustrated and angered a number of different people who waltz by your kiosk on the fringe of the mall food court. The fact is, the only thing that makes you different from conventional ice cream is that you come in multiple tiny balls instead of big scoops. Please explain in 500 words or less how this makes you futuristic. I fail to follow the logic that in 1000 years, when 1/2 of earth’s population is living in outer space and driving moon cars with laser beams that they’ll also be dining on you. Your self-ordained title can no longer be tolerated and I, for one, am taking a stand.
Traditional Gallon-Sized Ice Cream Buckets (that only come in chocolate or vanilla)
I (Ev) posted this sometime back, but it’s worth posting again. Everyone likes a good throw-up story.
WARNING: This story is about me unloading previously eaten food. It’s rather funny, but just wanted to warn you.
One of the things I received from my mom is motion sickness (thanks mom!). The older I get the worse it gets. I have more throw up stories than the Yankees have world championships. My condition is extremely grave, and I have to be careful simply turning the corner in the hallway too quickly.
One amazing Florida morning, when I was in 6th grade, I woke up to a cool breeze outside and some rumbling on the inside. Not being the wisest kid north of the Everglades, I chose to inhale a big bowl of Fruit Loops. (To be honest they were the generic version of Fruit Loops. Well, to be really honest, I have no idea what cereal I ate that morning.)
Waiting outside for the bus, I had that horrible pre-puke feeling. You know what I’m talking about, right? I could tell that it was coming, but I thought it could be overcome through sure will power, so I decided to ignore the warning signs and proceed to get on the bus. That big, smelly, moving bus. With a belly full milk and cereal. Because I’m stupid. It’s like there is a demon whose job is to argue me out of being smart simply to get me to look like an idiot so the other demons can laugh at me.
I was sitting in the first row of the bus, passenger side, when I came face-to-face with the terrifying reality that there was no way my cereal was going to be digesting the normal way today. Looking around for somewhere to let it out, I realized my options were limited. I could splatter it on the floor, but I remembered when another kid did that and it made the whole bus stink, plus everyone screamed and yelled as it rolled down the aisle. There was no way I was doing that. I could go in my backpack but that would ruin it, and I couldn’t figure out how I would get it and the contents cleaned out.
Then it came to me – the perfect idea. I could simply projectile it out the window and save myself from most of the embarrassment. Only a few people would see it and it would be over quickly. I stood up, put my head out the window and let out out a deep, guttural heave. Judging from the force with which breakfast was passing through my lips, matched against the force of the wind pushing against my face, I knew that I was embarking on one of the worst moments of my short life.
Almost immediately people from the back of the bus started screaming. Their windows were covered with…stuff, and unfortunately, some of the windows were down. I still feel badly for Crystal. I hope she was able to get most if out of her hair. Some of the other students kindly informed me that the whole side of the bus was covered. Never had there been such excitement on the morning bus ride – with equal parts disgust and amazement at my talents. The next 10 minutes were horrible, but the worst part was yet to come.
Upon arriving at the school, the entire student body – all 48,000 students (or so it seemed to me) were there to admire my work. I was hoping that if I sunk down in my seat no one would know it was me. But, alas, everyone else quickly exited the bus proclaiming that I was the artist of this masterpiece. Eventually, the bus driver made me face the crowd of jeering hyenas, and I took the walk of shame down the bus steps and off to the the school nurse. The good news is that I had never experienced such loud cheers.
At least I didn’t have to clean the bus off. Oh wait, they made me do that too.
Yes, I wrote about this a few years ago, but the memory is still very fresh:
A few weeks ago, while out of town, an insightful burglar thought that it would be a good idea to take the GPS from my unlocked car; the oldest and least expensive car on the block, I’m fairly certain (I’m fairly certain because my car is typically the least expensive car on any block). I guess part of the blame goes to me for leaving the car unlocked, but I still feel pretty comfortable placing most of the blame on the person who opened the door and walked away with my property. Yes, they did get the GPS, but the perpetrator was most successful in just reshuffling all of my trash from the back seat to the front seats. At the very least, they could’ve been considerate enough to throw a few crumpled up fast food bags away before they left. I also had my feelings hurt a little bit that they didn’t deem my scratched-up collection of 90s Rock CDs worth taking. I actually didn’t even know that was in there to begin with, so maybe I should thank them for uncovering it.