Barry's Humor Blog

On Keeping A Humor Journal

2009-04-23T08:38:00.001-07:00

“Now that’s a funny cartoon!” As soon as that thought struck me, I’d cut it out and paste it into a notebook I was keeping. After a time, I started writing in any and all funny experiences I’d gone through. Once in a while, I’d specifically try to recall humorous episodes from earlier in my life and add those, too. My book was growing and this was fun, my new “hobby”; keeping a humor journal.

Once I had decided to keep this humor journal, I was on the lookout for all things funny and soon realized that this hunt for humor had become a major factor in brightening my average day. In fact, on those rare (for me) days when I might be feeling a bit down, I’d go to my humor journal and find enough things, that were funny to me, to cheer me up! Hey, this little book I had created has become a rather valuable tool for my personal life. I told my friends about it and some of them liked the idea enough to try it. After a few months, most of them reported back to me that they found great value in it as well.

Here comes the big payoff! When I am preparing for a speaking engagement and want to add some original humor, appropriate to my subject or audience, I’ll always find something to use from the countless entries of personal, funny anecdotes in my humor journal! Fantastic! If you are ever running any sort of meeting, large, small, formal or informal, and wish to add some original humor, your humor journal is perfect. Review it for some humor, appropriate to either your audience or your topic, insert that into your talk and there you have it!

I put everything in there…jokes I hear (those are more for me than to use in my presentations or keynotes), funny people watching moments (airports are great for that), advertisements that make me laugh (there’s the ad on the plumbers truck that states, “Remember, a flush beats a full house!”), funny road signs (oh, they’re out there. I recall one that says “LODGING NEXT RIGHT”, beneath that is another sign, “STATE PRISON”), newspaper clippings, I even take photos of things I see that you just wouldn’t believe. I have a picture of my car, my tag says HAHA1, parked totally at random, next to a car with a tag that reads, VRY FUNY.

In my keynotes on minimizing day-to-day stress, I share all of this with my audience and the feedback has been wonderful. People just love the concept and find real benefit in keeping a humor journal. I believe you will, too. Get yourself a notebook, think for a moment or go out exploring and begin making your entries. If you have a moment, I’d love to hear from you on this.

Barry Roberts is a humorist, helping businesses achieve maximum profitability and productivity by reducing stress and developing innovative thinking skills. He is the author of Practice Safe Stress and The Sales Coach II, Barry can be reached at www.BarryRoberts.com.

It was a tubular experience

2009-04-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

My dad had some rather serious surgery several years ago. After the successful surgery, my sister and I waited for him in his hospital room. He arrived still heavily sedated, with tubes seemingly coming from everywhere. We tried talking to him, but got no response. He was still very out of it from the surgical anesthesia. A short while later the nurse arrived. She gave him a quick once over, checked all of the tubes and whispered to him, “You look fine. I’ll be back to check on you again later.” As she was leaving, Dad lifted his head slightly and, with eyes still shut, in that post-operative, dry, hoarse voice, he said, “Thank you. When you come back, if you bring another tube, we can have lunch together!”

Sock it to me

2009-03-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, I was NYC high school music teacher. Aside from teaching general music classes, I was the choral director. On one particular day, the band teacher was out and I was asked to cover his classes. No problem.

During orchestra practice, one of the tuba players told me he was having trouble with his instrument; the valves were sticking. I took the tuba from him, disassembled all the valves, cleaned them, oiled them, realigned them and put them back. To make sure the tuba was now OK, I put it to my lips, blew a few notes and gave it back to the student.

As I was walking away, I heard him whisper to one of his friends, "Oh crap, he used my mouth piece!" Now, he had a legitimate gripe...I should not have used his mouthpiece...how unsanitary of me.

I turned to apologize and found him cleaning the mouthpiece with his sock! I said nothing. I just wondered how insulted I should feel and went on with the rehearsal.

Sacre Bleu!

2009-01-22T13:52:00.000-08:00

I had a college professor who was rather old fashioned, had perfect diction and (so far as I could tell) used perfect grammar. Surely, he would NEVER use foul language.
There were a few students in the class who found ridiculous delight in trying to get the professor flustered. We could often surmise that he was angry and frustrated and yet never really let it show. Until one day....
One of the troublemakers was not prepared to hand in a paper that was due. He tried every tactic he could to get the professor to accept his excuses. The professor was turning red and trying very hard not to lose his control, when suddenly he pounded his fist on the desk and "Oh my gosh", we thought, "could this be it?" The professor took a deep breath, his eyes widened, another breath and finally, in rich round tones and trillings his "r", he said, "Young man, that's just (pausing while he searched for the right words) rrrrigid feces!
And that was the end of that.

Who are these people & what is customer service?

2008-10-06T06:50:00.000-07:00

Not so long ago we bought a new refrigerator with a major brand name. Recently we had a problem with it and so, while it's still under warranty, we called "customer service". (Oy!)

After several attempts, she found our account (under the number I repeated to her at least 5 times). By the way, you'll need to know here, that this appliance is in our home on West Drive in Hawley, PA.

The next step was to confirm our address, and so she asked, "Is this at We Street, in Howley, Panama?"

"What!?", I said, "Where?"

She repeated it again. I finally deciphered that she was reading West as We St. ...We Street. She mispronounced Hawley as Howley...OK, an honest mistake and then thought PA was Panama! Quite honestly, at this point I was dumbfounded and getting frustrated.

She asked what the problem was and I explained the problem with the door of our refrigerator. And then came the bombshell....."Is that the front door of your refrigerator?"

I told her it was and asked her which of the Shvaytag (fictitious name) refrigerators had a back door. She suggested that I hold on while she looks that up for me. (Who trains these people?) I asked to speak with a supervisor.

A 'Timely" Remark

2008-09-17T08:43:00.000-07:00

It was Father's Day a few years back and we were at a family Bar B Q at my brother-in-law's home. His Dad was there (a very wealthy man) and he admired the wrist watch I was wearing. "That's a great looking watch", he said. "How much does a watch like that go for?

The watch happened to be a Movado knock-off! I was a little embarrassed, after all, the cost of a real Movado would mean nothing to him and so I answered, "Joe, what kind of question is that for one gentleman to ask another?"

"Excuse me", he said and that was the end of it.

The next Father's Day we were back at my brother-in-law's and Joe was wearing a magnificent Rolex, obviously brand new and with a diamond to mark each hour. For the moment, I forgot about last year's incident. I was really impressed and told Joe what a magnificent watch he was wearing. After all, he could afford it so why not get it for himself!

"You like it?", he asked. "Twenty bucks at the flea market! You gotta be nuts to spend more that that for a watch!" He was so proud of his "find". I never mentioned my Movado knock-off...didn't want to appear to be outdoing him.

Just a quick question

2008-05-28T06:30:00.001-07:00

When we go to the doctor it is because we are sick or injured. So why is it when we get there, the nurse/receptionist always says, "Hi, how are you?", often in a cheery, inquisitive tone?

In my head, I'm always thinking, "What do you mean, 'How am I?', I'm sick! I told you all about it when I called for the appointment!" But, rather than sound sarcastic, I usually reply with, "Well, not perfect. Otherwise, why would I be here, right?" I say it in a friendly way and usually get a chuckle.

It's just one of those silly little things that always seems odd to me.

Have fun today.

A short and sweet story

2008-05-08T06:44:00.000-07:00

It was my birthday the other day (never mind which one) and I got a phone call from my 2 1/2 year old grandson. He sang "Happy Birthday" to me and it was just wonderful! At first I wasn't sure it was him, he really sounded like a 5 year old and carried a tune beautifully. I never heard him sing before and was quite thrilled and overjoyed at the whole thing.

Later that day I had to take some medical tests (everything is fine, thanks) and did not know that the tests included an MRI. I've had MRIs before and I don't do well in that tube. I never knew I was claustraphobic until my first MRI. Immediately, I felt the anxiety starting, I didn't know what to do, how to react. The tech told me I could cancel and I said, "No, not yet. Just give me a few minutes."

I took that time to psych myself, to convince myself that I could do this. I climbed on the table, took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes. As they slid me into the tube I began the mental process of staying calm. In a few moments my mind drifted back to my grandson, Walker, singing to me. I'm sure I was smiling in there. Soon the MRI was over and the tech told me I "did awesome."
Actually, it was Walker who was awesome and is always awesome to me. Thanks Walker, for helping Grandpa with this difficult experience. I love you.

Who's Zoomin' Who?

2008-04-16T12:15:00.000-07:00

I have an elderly aunt and uncle who had a rather interesting encounter recently. My aunt has had some health problems of late and has, as a result, had some fainting spells over the past year or two.

One evening, not so long ago, while my aunt was sitting on a bench at the foot of her bed and as she was dressing, she began to faint. Fortunately my uncle entered the room and saw her falling. He caught her seconds before she hit her head on the tile floor!

As he was holding her in his arms and patting her cheek, she started to come around. When he saw her eyes opening, he needed to make sure she was lucid and so he began shouting, "Sally! Look at me! What's my name! What's my name?"

Aunt Sally meanwhile, was now awake and had no idea that she had just fainted. Her only thought was, "Oh my goodness, what's wrong with Harry...was is he asking me what his name is?"

This one...not so funny

2008-01-31T13:09:00.000-08:00

I realize this is a humor blog, but this story still haunts me. Someone from outside of New York was asking me about it (again) today and so I "needed" to post it.

Nov. 5, 2001 Ground Zero

Note: This is “stream of consciousness” writing. No thinking, no editing, just flowing from my mind and memory to my pen and onto the paper. All within 30 minutes after the experience.

It wasn’t idle curiosity or a need to gawk; I really don’t know what compelled me to visit ground zero today. I was in Manhattan and I had to go.

I didn’t think much about how I’d feel when I got there. I didn’t wonder if there really is still a smell in the air. On leaving the subway station, there is, and it isn’t very feint either. Trying to identify the odor… seemed at times to smell of wet paper that had been burned, but not really. After a short while the smell was, I was certain, that of death and evil. Now I just wanted to ignore it.

I didn’t know where to go to see is the remains, so I walked as far as I could, west (I think I was on Chambers Street?) There was a small gathering at the next corner looking. I knew that was it. Feeling kind of nervous (I’d been feeling that kind of nervous/anxious from the time I got on the subway at Penn station) and hurried to that corner, turned to my left and saw a partially obscured view of the World Trade Center. “Oh God”, I said it aloud and just stared. Straining, I took a few photos. All the while I couldn’t help but feel that I was intruding on some sacred site. I felt uneasy taking the photos, although many others were doing the same and, I observed, we were all a bit misty eyed and very quiet; whispering if we spoke to anyone.

I asked a police officer where I might walk to for a better view and I felt “cheap” in asking that. Wondering to myself, “what must he think of me for wanting to see a better view” of where so many had been killed. (*I actually wrote ‘cop’ here and now that seems disrespectful, especially for a police officer working here.)

I walked the block to West Broadway and then two blocks south. The view was still obscured by other buildings, scaffolding and protective tarps and there was more to see from here. Also more people, more photos (I stood atop a barricade to take some), no police…National Guard soldiers here.

Then I noticed a church across the street; across the street from what once was the World Trade Center! Whatever God we believe in, there must somehow be some statement here. The church was physically unharmed and open for business.

I remembered now that Joe Salomon’s law office was nearby and while I had seen what the others had seen, I needed to try to see more. Maybe Joe had a bird’s eye view from his office.

Joe’s office, it turned out, was on the 42nd floor, one block from ground zero.

Joe was glad to see me, even after I told him why I was here. I truly would have stopped in for a visit even if this were not the issue.

We exchanged hellos and such and he took me around to see Daisy. As we were greeting each other I saw out of the window, from the corner of my eye, looking right down on the remains of the devastation. “Oh God “, out loud again. They understood and concurred. I remained for a moment or two staring out the window while we chatted aware of my amazement, Joe told me there is a better view (as if anything about this could be good or better) from the outside balcony. I was eager to get there.

It was really cold and blustery today, more so from this 42nd floor balcony and this seemed to add to the whole reality of this experience. I think maybe beautiful weather, gorgeous sunshine, might have been too incongruous for what I was seeing. It was devastating to me, no “ Oh God” this time. In fact I couldn’t speak at all for a moment. (Very rare for me!) I had to take in every square inch, every detail. I couldn’t believe it, all over again. In the past when I had seen the World Trade Center it was all shiny and glistening. Everything now is black and charred. In fact, one building where three or four stories still stand, you can see inside what once were windows, each floor is filled floor to ceiling with ash and debris!

I remember two times I’ve visited the Winter Garden (an all the glass, huge domed structure, adjacent to the World Financial Tower), once to see a Norman Rockwell showing and once, by accident, I saw a magnificent floral show. It was so sunshiny and bright in there. Really fabulous. Awesome. Now it was only the charred framework, filled with the ash and debris. I really cannot speak at this time. Joe is cold and wants to go back inside. I can’t yet. I told him I’d be in in a while.

Alone it out there, staring, I began to get very angry. I mean really mad! I want to scream something! I am too tongue-tied to get it out. An angry, screaming whisper comes out “fuck you “,….. “just fuck you”. No more words follow, just the clarification in my mind that this was for Bin Laden and all the rest.

I should be finished looking now. I should go inside and I can’t yet. Again, out loud, I said a prayer for the souls of all of the innocent deceased and I cursed again, the lives and the souls, in their afterlife, of all of those responsible.

I could have stayed out there easily until sundown. My emotions were really frazzled, jumping all over the place. I had not expected this. Through all this time I guess I was taking pictures, there’s no film left now. It’s enough. I should go and not look back. I’m calmer now and very somber. Many of the images are now part of me.

Please God, this kind of thing, never again, please.

I’ve seen it all 1000 times on TV - it’s brutal in person.

At the gym

2008-01-23T11:10:00.000-08:00

I went to the gym the other day, as I do every other day. I parked in the lot and walked toward the front door. As I touched the handle on the door and started to open it, someone's car alarm went off!

Well, you know how things flash through your mind in one split second? In that split second I was certain that by opening the door I set off the security alarm and it scared the crap out of me.. I jumped back about 4 feet into the air and yelped, "wadaga?!?!?"

I felt like one big knucklehead and was so glad nobody saw me (how embarassing).

So now, I wonder, why am I posting this if I was glad no one saw me when it happened and why have I told my family and friends about it?

We learn from everyone we meet

2008-01-15T09:43:00.000-08:00

As a speaker, my topics all have to do with how we can use our sense of humor to improve our lives (see www.BarryRoberts.com). I had just finished an engagement in San Francisco, a city I really enjoy, so I stayed for an extra day.
I spent most of that day on my own walking tour of the city. Sad to say, there are many homeless in San Francisco & while I have great empathy for all of them, I cannot offer money to each one that approaches me on the street.
It had been a long day & I was headed back to my hotel with an arm full of gifts and my camera, when I saw her heading straight towards me. She was fairly young, with few teeth, looking very much like the rest fo the street people I had encountered that day. As she came to me, I must admit I was not listeneing to what she said and I had my reply all ready. "Sorry, I can't help you today", I said & kept walking.
After I passed I realized what she had said to me; "I'm not asking for any money, just your credit card and pin number for about an hour." This with a big smile on her face.
Hey! She had a sense of humor and was attempting to use it to help herself. I spend my days trying to teach this to business people who, for the most part, have everything they need and many of them just don't get it. This woman lives on the street, in rags and a cardboard box and SHE GETS IT!! How could I not help her out?
I turned quickly and spotted her making a bee line for her next mark,. I picked up the pace, caught up to her and said, "Look, you're not getting my credit card or pin number, but I hope this helps and wish you good luck."
She tucked the $5 in her blouse and replied, again with a huge smile, "Thanks...when you live on the street and have nothing else, you gotta have a sense of humor. Gd bless you, sir."
Wow! For me that was so powerful. You can learn a valuable lesson from everyone you meet.

The things that used to be

2007-12-20T13:14:00.000-08:00

I had this nice little blog going on at Blog Source and earlier today I wanted to post a new story, only to find that "Blog Source has shut down."

I'll be developing this one (again) over time, so please come back from time to time. Thanks.

Barry Roberts