Señoras del Leño

When some people get down or discouraged, they drink. Other people turn to pain pills. Other people to cigarettes. Other people to drugs. Other people to food. Other people to religion. Me, I turn to shopping. And, more specifically, clothes. I may have a little clothes problem. I realized this last week when I opened the door to my apartment after a morning run and was suddenly hit with the stench of six week's worth of stinky underwear. Sitting in my closet, were three laundry hampers, all heaping two or three feet above the tops of them. In those hampers were shirts, and pants, and socks, and underwear. But not just any shirts. Regular shirts, yes. But gym shirts, too. And not just jeans, but gym shorts and warmup pants. And, gulp... not just underwear... but lots and lots of sweat-soaked gym underwear. The smell of it all made me literally gag in my doorway. Why I hadn't smelled it to that point, and why it suddenly hit me so strongly, is a mystery in and of itself. But it did. And it was strong. I would liken the smell to sticking your entire head into a linebacker's navel. Thankfully the Farmer's Daughter wasn't coming around for a couple days. Time enough to do my laundry and let it air out. When I was done washing and drying the laundry (minus the bedding and towels), this is the pile of clothes that I had to put away. Please note that those pillows in the back are FIVE pillows tall. Not two. I don't know if you can really grasp how much laundry that is since it's all stacked so neatly. So, I counted it out for you: Six sweatshirts. Four pairs of sweatpants. Sixteen gym shirts. Eight pairs of gym shorts. Eight gym pants. 57 pairs of socks. Nine button down shirts. 34 t-shirts. Five tank tops or sleeveless shirts. 11 pairs of jeans. 17 under shirts. Two bathing suits. 52 pairs of underwear. Two pairs of pajama pants. Two baseball caps. It had been at least six weeks since the last time I did laundry. And you would think I was out of clothes. Oh, no. I still had the following clean and ready to go in my closet: 47 shirts of different varieties. Eight hoodies. Four pair of sweat pants. Nine dress shirts. Five pairs of slacks. 20 gym shirts. Seven pair of gym shorts. Eight pair of gym pants. 14 pair of jeans. Two bathing suits. 41 pairs of shoes, boots, and other footwear. Three dress coats. Two rash guards. Six pair of manpris. 18 pair of shorts. Nine sweaters. One suit. Six weeks, and I still had all that that I could have worn. I think it's time I say the words aloud... CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE I'm Dan, and I'm a clothesaholic. After I put all my clothes away I snapped a few pics inside my closet. That doesn't even count all my drawers filled with clothes. Or my coat racks. Or the two bags of winter clothes I just stored in the storage unit. Now, I could sit here and try and rationalize my wardrobe. I have shoes for every occasion, indoor and outdoor. I have clothes for the same reason. I've basically worn the exact same size of clothes for eight years now, so of course the collection is going to get ridiculously big. But, it's not true. I'm a clothesaholic. And I'm okay with that. I like new clothes. I just need to wash them more often so that the Farmer's Daughter never has to smell that kind of stank. She'd be two counties over before I even took a second whiff. Now, who wants to go shopping with me? Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing PS. Comments please? Dare I ask if anyone's closet is as bad as mine?

I don’t even know what to say after this morning’s parenting edition of The Truth Box. There have been a LOT of strong emotions flying around, and a lot of things said. According to some of you, I crossed a serious line posting some of those confessions. Others of you have demanded that I report the submitters to the police, threatening that if I don’t, you will. Others have demanded that some of the children need to be taken away from their parents. When I shared the link this morning, I told you all that it was my favorite edition of The Truth Box yet. And I stand by that. We had never done a parental confessions edition, and something about it all made me feel so much more empowered and emboldened as a parent while I put it together. Many of the confessions were light-hearted. Some even humorous. And some were extremely heavy and hard to hear. That, to me, is what makes The Truth Box so powerful. But right now let’s talk about a couple of the heavier ones. This one has really struck a nerve with people: The embarrassing thing I did as a parent: I’ve lost control of my temper and hurt my son more than once, even when he was a baby. Why I’ve never told anyone: I’m afraid he would get taken away. And I really love him, even though he does everything possible to push my buttons all the time. And this one: The embarrassing thing I did as a parent: Left my 8 year old daughter alone at night after she fell asleep so I could go to the bar for some me time for a couple of hours. Why I’ve never told anyone: Because it’s dangerous and I could get into a lot of trouble! There were others that pushed readers’ buttons, and believe me. I understand why. But to respond and attack the confessors? I fear that the reason for the Truth Box is becoming hard to remember at all. The Truth Box is a place where people can come and share a secret that they’ve been holding onto and share it anonymously. I don’t collect any information about the sender, not even their IP address. I have no way to tie any of these to anyone. I also am a big time advocate for good parenting. I’m an advocate for involved parenting. I’m definitely an advocate for controlled and non-abusive parenting. Which is why I loved this version of the Truth Box. Every person who shared a secret, big or small, had been holding onto that secret for God knows how long. Many of them felt like their secrets defined them as parents. Many of them felt that their secrets often meant that deep down they were bad parents, and were scared shitless at the thought of others finding out the truth. Yet they posted anyway because they needed to say the words out loud, even if anonymously. They needed to admit what they had done, even if anonymously. They knew that others might respond harshly, and they did it anyway. And then we go open our big mouths and crucify them and want to take their children away? CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE Hm. Doesn’t seem like that is going to help anything. Seems like that is going to push them harder and deeper into whatever is haunting them and into whatever it is that pushed their actions in the first place. I read the vicious comments and I only think, God. Those people will never feel empowered, they will never get better, they will never improve. And neither will any of the parents reading it who struggle with the same things. Not if this is the way we respond. Don’t we get it? When we attack others, and judge others, and demand extreme measures when we find out their secrets, it keeps EVERYONE fearful of what will happen to them if they ever acknowledge their own shortcomings as parents. Listen to these words again: #10 - “I’ve lost control of my temper and hurt my son more than once, even when he was a baby.” Now, listen to these two responses and tell me which one is going to invoke a spirit of change and improvement.

My entire life, I have listened to the same handful of motorcycling stories again and again from my Mom. The first story is about her gnarly motorcycle crash on her boyfriend’s bike when she was an older teenager. That led to a leg that is still scarred and mangled. The next story is about her taking the motorcycle driving test at the DMV when she was younger. She whipped around and went crazy on her brother’s motorcycle before the instructor came out, and when she looked over, she was shocked to see the instructor already outside watching her. She asked when they were going to start the test, he said she had just done it. The other story was about the time she was riding down the highway on her boyfriend’s motorcycle when a semi-truck driver she was passing made eye contact with her, snarled, and purposefully started coming into her lane on top of her. Apparently to try and murder her. Let me remind you that these have always been stories to me, nothing else. I’ve never seen her ride a motorcycle. Heck, I’ve never even seen her stand anywhere close to a motorcycle. Until, that is, I brought Delilah over for Sunday dinner this past week. I parked my bike out on her driveway in the shade of her exterior garage and went in to help make Mother’s Day dinner for all the women-folk. When most of it was done and we were all standing around waiting, I invited Mom and my brother-in law Luis to come see my new ride. Luis has lived and breathed motorcycles since he was like twelve years old or something crazy like that. Mom, well, once upon a time, in a generation far, far away… I told Luis to hop on and take it for a spin. He’d never ridden a brand new Harley, and there was a trail of saliva from the house to where he was currently standing. He eagerly waited to mount the bike and started demanding helmets, gloves, and keys. Mom stood nearby, oohing and ahhing the thing. She mumbled “Can I…” then she trailed off. Then again, “do you think…” then she trailed off. This is where the protective son had to step in. “Mom, how long has it been since you’ve ridden a motorcycle? Have you ever ridden one this big? This is a really heavy bike.” Etc. Etc. You get the point. I wanted to scare her away from it, but with every question she became more bold about her answers. I told her to sit on the bike. I was going to quiz her. “What’s this?” I said pointing to the clutch lever. She chortled. “That’s the clutch. And this is the front brake. And this is the rear brake. And  this is the throttle. And this is the gear shifter.” She didn’t even have to think about any of it. And she was right about all of it. I was feeling better, but still, I was uneasy. The last thing I wanted to do was put my mom in the hospital on Mother’s Day. “Luis,” I said. “You live with Mom. You’ve let her ride your motorcycle. Can she handle this bike?” He grinned and nodded. “Yeah, she did fine on mine.” That was enough for me. It wasn’t enough to feel completely good about it. And it wasn’t enough to fully trust that she would be okay on it. But it was enough that I felt comfortable taking the biggest freaking leap of faith in my entire life. I was going to let her ride Delilah. CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE I asked her to go get boots, a jacket, and her cell phone in case something happened. She literally leaped a little and grinned at everyone, then ran inside the house. I can’t remember the last time I had seen her that giddy. As soon as she was gone, I turned to Luis. “You sure man? I don’t want Mom to die. She rode your bike and she really did fine with it?” He laughed. “Well, she only rode it around the driveway. She didn’t actually take it for a ride.” “LUIS!” I yelled. “This is serious for me. I need to know if she is safe to ride this bike before I let her go. I’ll be the bad guy and tell her no if I need to.” He laughed again, uncomfortably. “LUIS!

Over on the Single Dad Laughing Facebook Page, I asked a simple question. "What is the most embarrassing thing your child has ever blurted out to others?" More than 1,500 of you answered. And, just as I had hoped, you didn't fail to deliver some of the best gut-grabbing laughs I've had in weeks. Here are a few of your replies... The Most Embarrassing Things Ever Blurted Out By Kids One time while in the fitting room, I overheard a little boy say, quite loudly, "Mommy, are you buying this new swimsuit because you poop-farted in your one last year?" While out on a river in a boat with a bunch of friends, my 10-year-old announced she needs to go to the bathroom. I calmly tell her she's gonna have to wait, to which she yells, "Mom, I have to poop! I'm crowning!" "Mom, please don't sell me on Craigslist! I'll be good." During my divorce, while the kids and I were at Walmart buying groceries, I put a bottle of wine in my cart and my daughter yells, "Oh, look, Mom's sad again." My daughter once yelled out "I LOVE VAGINA" as loud as possible in a Walmart. Too bad she was actually referring to LASAGNA - which is what we were having for dinner. After getting new Toy Story undies, my son yelled to the drive-through workers at Chick-fil-A, "I've gotta woody in my pants!" The priest stood up for the second time to speak at my grandson's Christening yesterday and as he began to speak my 5 year old son yelled, "Oh no, not again". My son was feeling really badly about pooping his pants, so to make him feel better I told him that it happens to everyone, even mommy. The next day we walked in to daycare and told the lead teacher "Yesterday I pooped my pants, but mom said it was ok; it happens to her all the time." My eldest once said "Mom, did you know there are people who don't want kids?!" I asked how he knew that to which he replied "THEY BUY CARS WITH ONLY TWO DOORS!" When I was pregnant, I ended up having to take my three year old daughter to one of my OB appointments. My doctor had to do a vaginal exam to which my daughter replied loudly "Mommy, how come you show your 'gina to EVERYONE!!??" In church, right at the elevation of the Host, my then four year old yelled, "Mom, did you know a cat's butt is called an ANUS?" I was at a store when a toddler was asking her mother for something. The mother was very agitated at the toddler and the toddler blurted out "Mommy needs more wine!" Playing with my daughter when she was six and singing Little Bunny Foo-Foo... After a minute she stopped and said "wow, that Bunny Foo-Foo is a real b****!" I was volunteering in a third grade classroom reading the Weekly Readers with a group of students. The topic was The Great American Smoke Out when people are encouraged to quit smoking for a day. One little boy proclaimed his Mommy's boyfriend smoked in the house... But only when Daddy was away on business. "Mommy, that lady's butt is even bigger than yours!!!" My nine year old daughter said "Dad, Mom said I'm like you. I don't have any common sense. Is that true?" My son, then five, was on his first soccer team. The color of the team was blue. The coach and the team gather around to choose a name. "Any ideas?", the coach asks. My son yells out "Blue balls!" CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE My, then two year old, being held by a woman who drew on her eyebrows, exclaimed "You have something on your face!" Followed by proudly wiping off one eyebrow, he said, "There I got it for ya!" Walking through a department store lingerie department and my then 5 year old bellows, "Mama, why are you looking at panties? You don't wear those!" After biting his little sister, a friend of ours jokingly told our son, "sisters don't taste good, but girlfriends do". Much to my horror, he repeated it to his entire kindergarten class. We were at church and they called the young children to the front to talk about tithing and stealing and they asked,

Last week I was at Harmon’s, a local grocery store. I think it’s important that I mention the name of the chain and the reason I love shopping there. Harmon’s is very clean and tidy. It is classy. It is nice. I don’t feel a need to immediately sanitize when I leave for fear of catching some horrible disease like I do at so many other stores. It’s a little more expensive than, say, oh I don’t know, Walmart, but it’s worth it to me to not have to flirt with disgustingness and malady each time I enter. Anyway, last week I was at Harmon’s. And everything was as it should be. In place. Clean. Orderly. Nice. I headed over to the produce section to get some bananas and avocados. The only two people shopping in produce were me and a man about my age who was much larger than I was. I think it is important that I mention the size of this man. I am 6’4”. I am a big man. He was at least six foot eight. He probably weighed more than three hundred pounds and if he had a lick of fat on him, I was hard-pressed to find it. He hat a short bush of hair on his head which screamed military. If I were to compare him to anything, it would be King Kong, both because of his stature and because it would take a lot more than some measly little tranquilizers to bring him down. This guy, who I shall affectionately call Kong, was over by the oranges. He was filling a bag by picking up one orange at a time, studying every side of it, and then nodding and grunting as he put each piece of fruit inside. I carefully studied a bunch of bananas. After offering my own nod and grunt of approval to my fruit, I set them in my cart and proceeded toward the avocados. This meant passing the orange-scrutinizing Kong. As I neared him with the cart, something on the orange he was currently holding caused him to yelp. And I’m not talking about a manly angry yelp. I’m talking a yelp so high and little-girlish that it would have scared a full grown grandpa badger out of its hole. At the same time he yelped, he dropped the orange he was holding back into the pile and just stood there staring at it with a look of terror and disgust on his face. CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE I stopped walking. My curiosity was definitely piqued. Had he seen a spider or maybe a centipede? Perhaps a moldy spot? Kong looked at the orange he had just dropped and then down at the bag of oranges in his hand. Back to the orange he had dropped. Back to the bag of oranges in his hand. As he did so, the look on his face worsened. You could see his stomach churning through his eyes which were slowly glossing over. He went slightly cross-eyed, and with his mouth open ever so slightly, he lifted the bag of oranges, set them down on top of the entire stack of oranges and walked away. As he disappeared around the corner, I could make out gurgling sounds and groans. I never saw Kong again after that. I can only assume that whatever it was that had spooked him, spooked him right out of the store. At this point, I think it’s important to mention that I myself don’t have the strongest stomach when it comes to gross and disgusting things. I didn’t know what he saw, but I knew it had to have come from the deepest pits of nastiness to spook a guy like Kong. It’s probably also important to mention that I have a brain that cannot be okay not knowing things like that. Had I not gone to check it out right then, I would have stewed over it for hours. If I didn’t end up back there before I left the store, I probably would have made a special trip back later that day just to figure out what this guy had found so offensive. And so, fighting two very different parts of my brain, I finally began wheeling my cart over toward the oranges. And that’s when I saw it. Strung across the side of the orange Kong had dropped was a big… Fat… Green… Bloody… Once slimy… Booger. If you have been following for a while,

Everybody farts. And that’s okay. In fact, It’s more than okay. Farts often can be some of the funniest things ever. At least in retrospect. But when they happen unexpectedly, sometimes they're the most mortifying things ever. Like back in high s...

Okay, here’s the big fat hairy deal. There are certain things that should never be laughed at. I get that. Then there are certain things that shouldn't be laughed at, but that I will probably laugh at anyway. Because, you see... I am one who laughs at completely inappropriate things sometimes. Meh, who am I kidding. I laugh at completely inappropriate things all the time. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. These are a few of the things I laugh at… #1 – Cussing Children Look. I’m not saying that all cussing children are funny. If an eleven year old kid walked up to me and called me a “f***ing old piece of dog sh**” I don’t think I’d laugh. I’d want to grab his tongue and staple it to his parent’s front door with a note that said, “I am NOT freaking old.” Oh yeah, and I’d mention the swearing, too. But when my six year old accidentally tells his aunt that dad hit the f***ing b**ch after hearing me tell the Farmer’s Daughter that I hit the lucky pitch at the batting cages, well, that’s just funny. #2 – Cops on Bicycles If I get sideswiped in my car by some texting teenager in an apartment parking lot, and I call 911, and after waiting for eons, some guy finally rolls in on a bicycle and starts asking for my side of the story… it’s going to be hard to take him seriously. I mean, the bicycle is bad enough, but bicycle cops always seem to be wearing those little short shorts, and their gun holsters practically hang down further than the bottom of their short shorts do. It’s so silly, I believe I am entitled to giggle like crazy when the poor guy finally leaves again. #3 – Teenagers Who Get their Comeuppance We were all teenagers once. Can we agree on that before you jump me in some dark alley for thinking teenagers getting their comeuppance is funnier than a tube sock full of rice in the microwave? And since we were all teenagers, that means we all know what it’s like to either be dumb and stupid know-it-alls, or to surround ourselves with dumb and stupid know-it-alls (except my older sister Tomi Ann. I’m pretty sure she was born a grown-up full of wisdom and maturity). And when dumb and stupid know-it-alls have their dumbness and stupidity backfire on them, we should all be able to laugh. Like the time I was water ballooning cars as a teenager and we hit one guy’s car who got so mad he began chasing us on foot with the very real intention of killing us. One of us tripped and scraped up our leg pretty bad. We deserved it. And we deserved to be laughed at by adults when it happened. #4 – Really Bad Hair Jobs We all get bad hair jobs from time to time. We all make bad choices when it comes to our hair fashion. This is evident by how many women wear A-Frame haircuts who don’t have the face for it and men who wear barely any hair at all because they can’t see any difference between a $5 haircut and a $25 haircut. It is okay to laugh at these people, but we must do so with caution. If it’s someone like me, I give you permission to laugh right to my face. Believe me. I know when I’ve had a bad haircut and I think it’s just as funny as you do. After all, we all get them from time to time. Other people are more sensitive and would prefer to pretend like it never happened and that no one will ever notice. Laugh at these people’s haircuts after they’ve gone. You’ll know them because they constantly ask everyone how their hair looks, and they fully expect to be lied to when they do. CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE #5 – Death I know, I know. Taboo at best. But I really think death should be laughed at as often as possible. I don’t know how I am going to die, but I hope that once the initial shock wears off to those who love me, they will laugh like crazy about it. After all, I will probably have died in one of the following ways: eating too much in one sitting, skiing off a cliff, heat stroke on a mountain top because I was too stupid to hike prepared, being impaled by a moose,

Is it just me, or is nobody actually balding anymore? The other day I read a news story about major recent breakthroughs against male pattern baldness. The report ventured a guess that baldness would be a thing of the past within two years. But I...

As I mentioned on Tuesday, I purchased a brand new motorcycle. I have to say, I am constantly flabbergasted at how many people think that other people’s money and how they spend it is any of their business. On the way home from the dealership, I ...

It can be tricky navigating between reality and fiction on the Internet, and Facebook tops the list for most muddled of all human interaction. People say one thing, but ultimately they’re trying to say something else. Fear not. I have come up with Th...

Quickie post today and for a good reason. As I told you I probably would, I ended up buying a new Harley yesterday. It is being delivered here sometime in the next hour. If I can peel myself off of it long enough to take a picture, I’ll show you all a little bit later. I may also have a contest to name my new bike. It definitely needs a name, so be thinking. Anyway, on Sunday I picked Noah up from his mom’s as I do every Sunday. I asked him what he’d been doing for fun since I last saw him. “Dad, I got a new bike!” he said overly excited. It was a nice change from the information I often have to dig out of him. “You did?” I was excited for him. Apparently his last bike was damaged beyond repair in an unfortunate series of events. He had been slightly distraught about it with spring time finally deciding to stick. “Yeah, but right when I got it, I went over that one hill, and fell down on that other bike, and it almost broke my heart.” I had to contain my laugh. I had never heard him talk about a broken heart before. “It almost broke your heart?” I repeated back to him. “Yeah. It almost broke it really bad.” He was very serious. “Did your new bike break and make you sad? Is that why it almost broke your heart?” I could see why that would be heart breaking. Noah became offended. “No, it didn’t break! I wasn’t sad!” “Oh. Hm. So why did it almost break your heart?” I asked. Noah looked at me as if to tell me just how dumb I was for not understanding. “Because when I fell over that hill, the handlebar hit me right here!” he said as he pounded the middle of the chest. “It hit me right here, and it almost broke my heart.” That’s when I realized he meant it literally. The bike had hit him hard in the sternum and to him, his heart could be broken just like any bone could. I started laughing and explained to him what it usually means when people say they have a broken heart. He just huffed and said, “no dad, a broken heart is when something hits you and breaks your heart. I almost had a broken heart from my new bike.” “Yeah, that sounds pretty painful,” I said. That was all he wanted to hear. Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

Just so you know, I am about to die. Apparently there is no other alternative for me. Sad, I know. Of course, I know this because lots and lots and lots of people keep telling me so, including friends, siblings, my dad, and many of you over on my personal Facebook page. But, why? Do I have some awful disease? A spreading and untreatable infection perhaps? Maybe I have a hit-man after me? I’ll take away the suspense and tell you it’s none of the above. Nope, I’m about to die in a much more sudden and gruesome way. Via motorcycle. On Thursday I started the Rider’s Edge course over at Harley-Davidson to learn how to ride a motorcycle. I’ve wanted to ride a Harley for at least the last twenty years, though I think much longer. My favorite toy growing up, the one I kept all the way through college, was a Harley Hog. He was a mean-as-nails squinting earringed pig dressed in a leather Harley-Davidson jacket. Leading up to the course, I told a few people that I would be taking it. “That’s a good way to die real quick,” my friend told me. “That’s a good way to leave Noah without a dad,” my sister said. I ignored them and signed-up for the class anyway. It’s all these same people preaching death that have kept me from doing this my entire life. Mom and Dad would never let me ride my friends’ bikes. I was turned down hard and fast in both marriages. Both of my wives felt the same way. That I would leave them widowed. On the first day of the course, I sat in the middle of nine other motorcycle noobs, waiting to begin. “At the Harley Dealership, about to start a course. This little boy is about to become a man,” I told my peeps over on Facebook. Almost immediately came the reply, “Or an organ donor.” 74 people then liked that reply. I’ll admit it. As I sat there, the responses, and all the voices that have constantly kept me away from it, and all the unknown, it started to weigh on me. Maybe this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, I thought. I considered doing “the smart thing” and walking right out of there. I mean, what if some idiot pulled right out in front of me while I was riding? What if I had to seriously slam on the brakes because something was in the way? How the heck do you do that on two wheels? How would I swerve last second the way I do in a car? What would I do if an animal ran out in front of me? And, what would I do if a tire blew? Everyone was right, I was soon to be a dead man. CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE Still, I’d already paid for the class so I stayed put, even as the fear grew. Four days later, after spending 14 hours on a motorcycle and six more hours in a classroom, I emerged a motorcycle rider. One by one, every fear I had was dissipated as we learned crucial motorcycle riding skills and techniques. We learned what to do in every one of those situations, and you know what? It turns out that if you’re the right kind of motorcycle rider, there is very little you can’t handle. In the course we learned how to go over obstacles that suddenly appear in the road. We learned how to take last minute quick swerves without crashing. We learned how to come out of tight corners when we find we’re going into them too fast. We learned how to slam on our brakes, and we definitely learned how to avoid the situations that kill the vast majority of motorcyclists who do lose their lives on the road. By the end of the course, most of my fear was gone, but not all of it. After all, always having a little fear is probably what keeps you alive when you’re out and about. On the range, we had learned and practiced and tested on 500 Buell bikes. Those are little bikes. Once we passed that test, they brought out a real Harley and let us test again on the bigger bike so that we could legally drive the bigger bikes. This was really helpful to me because I’m a big man and those little bikes make me look like a clown on a tricycle.

Today, let's just laugh. It's Friday. We all need a good start to our weekends. Anyway, I never have awesome jokes right off hand. People say, "tell me a joke," and my mind always goes blank. I'm a wit man. I like to make humor on the fly. So, I asked you all on my Facebook page for your Best. Short jokes. Ever. And you delivered. In fact, you delivered a few posts worth of them. Haha. So thank you. I will now be a funny old man someday. Oh, and some of them were a leeeeettle bit naughty. Or politically incorrect. Or just plain wrong. I pushed those to the last page so that those of you who aren't as "free spirited" as someone like me can skip them if you like. Or skip straight to them. Whatever floats your boat. Oh, and be sure to read Best Short Jokes Ever Vol. 1 and Best Short Jokes Ever Vol. 2! BEST. SHORT JOKES. EVER. A man was walking down the street, followed by six penguins. A police officer saw the man and asked him, "What are you doing with those six penguins?" The man replied, "That's just it, Officer. I don't know what to do with them." The police officer shakes his head and said, "Why don't you take them to the zoo?!?" The man agrees that this is a great idea. Well, the very next day, the same police officer sees the man and he still has the six penguins following him. However, the penguins are now wearing sunglasses. The police officer calls the man over and says, "I thought I told you to take those penguins to the zoo!" The man says, "Yes sir, I did. And we had so much fun, today we're going to the beach!" How do you wake Lady Gaga up? Poker Face. Guy walks into a doctor's office with a carrot in his ear and a cube of cheese up his nose, and says, "Doctor, I'm not feeling well!" Doctor responds, "I'm not surprised. You're not eating properly." Did you know diarrhea is genetic... it runs in your jeans. What's green and has wheels? Grass... I lied about the wheels! Panda walks into a bar, sits down, eats, shoots a gun and leaves. Bartender follows him out and asks him why he did that. Panda says to look up panda in the dictionary. Bartender does and it says "Panda Bear. Eats shoots and leaves". Sometimes I squat down, put my arms around my knees, and lean forward... because that's how I roll!! A blonde walks into a library & walks up to the counter & says " I'll have cheeseburger, fries & a cola." The librarian says, "ma'am, this is a library. " so the blonde leans down and whispers, " I'll have a cheeseburger, fries, & a cola." I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous. What did Spock find when he looked in the toilet? Captain's Log. What do ninja's drink? Waaaattttaaa (water said the same as hiya)!!! Whatever you do, always give 100%......unless you're donating blood. What's the difference between broccoli and boogers? You can't get your kids to eat broccoli. Whoever said "you can achieve anything you put your mind to" never tried slamming a revolving door. What do you get when you cross the Atantic and the Titanic? About halfway. What do you get when you cross a rabbit and an anesthesiologist? The Ether Bunny!! Do you know what a wok is? A wok is what you throw at a wabbit when you don't have wifle. What do old ladies smell like? Depends. What do you call an alligator in a vest? An inVESTagator! A blonde, a brunette, and redhead escape from jail. The sheriff and his not so bright deputy go searching... The the blonde, brunette and redhead hide up in a barn in sacks.. The deputy sees the sacks kicks the first one and hears "meow," it's nothing but a bag of cats sheriff. Kicks the next bag "woof woof" nothing but a bag of dogs sheriff. He kicks the last bag..... "Potatoes!" An Irishman walked out of a bar... *scoff* No he didnt. What did the blanket say when it fell off the bed? OH SHEET! What do you call it when one chick pea kills another one? HUMMUSCIDE! There are 3 kinds of people in this world....those who can count and those who can't.

I have a ghost in my house. And no, I am not making this up. This is a picture frame I keep on the dresser next to my bed. Inside is a photograph I took years ago of my little sister. A few days ago, I walked in and it had been turned away from ...

Oh my gosh. Thank you Jeff for sending this one to me. It warmed the cockles of my cold heart. :) Click to enlarge the email. It's just one more reason I love people.  If you see people-lovin' moments going on, be sure to send me your story! Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing PS. My new book will be hitting shelves soon. Give me your name and email here and I'll send you a quick notification when it is released! Plus you'll be in the drawing for one of several personalized copies! Your info will never be used for any other reason.