How Facebook Helped Me Dodge a Bullet

Facebook Dodge a BulletSo then…my sister Della urges me for the 52nd time to look up people from the past on Facebook so I can catch up with all my old friends from high school and college.

I tell her that I prefer to think of those people as perennially young, vital, and attractive – rather than glimpse them as their current wrinkled, paunchy, older selves. Like me.

To prove my point, I share with her some emails I recently exchanged with one of my high school friends Liz.

TO: Della (my sister)
FROM: Darcy
Subject: Why It’s Better Not To Know

Della, here’s a good example why I don’t wanna participate in Facebook and School Reunions in general. My high school friend Liz sent me this email:
“The other night there was a happy hour thing for alums of our girls’ high school and the boys’ high school because a guy named Tim “Mac” MacIntyre* was coming into town from Nebraska or somewhere up north. I went, and it was fun and all, but am I supposed to remember this guy? He said he remembered me, and I feel horrible for not knowing him. He was a football player all 4 years & graduated the same time we did. Anyway, do you know him? He has a pic on Facebook if you wanna look him up. Catch me up if you know this guy. –Liz”

So I replied:
Omigosh, Liz, you don’t remember that you lost your virginity to Mac?
And he tattoo-ed your name on his inner thigh!
And you signed a contract that if he ever needed a kidney, you would be first in line to donate.
How could you not remember this guy?
(OK, I don’t remember him at all either. Sorry. I even looked him up on Facebook and didn’t recognize him.)
The only football player I remember was Kevin Riley* who I thought was pretty dreamy — but he was very shy. I asked him to a Sadie Hawkins dance and he declined! I prefer to think he objected to dancing in general, and not to me in particular. But I will never know!
— Darcy

Then Liz sent me this response:
Thanks, and I’m glad I don’t have total amnesia for my high school days! I do have some further scoop on Kevin Riley*. He married a friend of mine and they had 5 kids and then a few years ago, he had some kind of midlife crisis and divorced her and moved in with a younger woman in Texas, last I heard. So, be glad he refused your dance invitation; that could have been you! — Liz

So my dear sister, do you see what I mean? Prior to this email exchange, I had fondly recalled Kevin as that dreamy football player who was so shy, that most other girls didn’t notice him, but I had a crush on him. And in my mind, he was young and cute and muscular — and represented a cool “what if” fantasy if he HAD said yes to the Sadie Hawkins dance.

But NOW I picture him as some plump, balding, desperate middle-aged man having a midlife crisis and being such a jerk that he dumped his wife and 5 kids to run off to Texas with some cheap young floozy.

THIS is Why It’s Better Not to Know.
–Darcy

My sister Della responds:
OR…maybe his wife was a pyromaniac, kleptomaniac, nymphomaniac shrew who stole things, set fires, and slept with his friends — and he is still dreamy, cute and muscular, but he had to leave for the safety of his children. Jeez — Why do you always think the worst of people?

(But you still dodged a bullet — ‘cuz he’s got FIVE kids. Who needs that hassle?)
— Della

(*not their real names, by the way, to protect their identities!)

Ha!  Indeed, sister, indeed!  Who needs that hassle?  Better the Texas floozy than me!

— Darcy Perdu

(Any Facebook posts or Reunion events where you discovered your crush has not aged well – or hasn’t turned out the way you thought? How about that mean girl in gym class – what happened to her? Anyone who HAS held up surprising well – or turned out really nicely? Share updates on your classmates in the Comments Section below; just protect their identities!)

How Facebook Helped Me Dodge a Bullet P Small

Wouldja Like to Meet My Insomniac Atheist Bisexual Vampire Son?

Influence Insomnia by Erika LeBarre
So then…he takes a bite of a fresh-baked cookie and says with a sigh, “I’m probably so tired today because I’m an insomniac.”

He’s 11.

I stop scooping dough onto the cookie sheet and look at him with furrowed brow.

“You’re an insomniac? When did that happen?” I ask.

He plops on the kitchen chair and says in a world-weary voice, “Oh, I’ve been an insomniac for years.”

Again, he’s 11.

“Really, Tucker? Because I check on you kids every night before I go to bed – and whenever I go into your room – you’re dead asleep. Even at midnight or 1 or 2 in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m awake when you check on me,” he assures me.

“You’re eyes are closed and you’re snoring.

“So? I can snore when I’m awake. Listen – shjrooor shjrooor.”

“Tucker,” I say. “You are not an insomniac! You sleep fine. What makes you think you are?”

“Well, I was talking to this kid in band class and he was telling me that he has insomnia because he can’t sleep at night and I realized that I have that too.”

OK, I see.

Several months later…

So then…we’re saying Grace before dinner but Tucker doesn’t join in. I ask him, “What’s up?”

He says, “Oh, I don’t say Grace anymore because I’m an atheist.”

Influence Atheist
He calmly eats his corn. I seethe.

I want to say, “Really Tucker? You’re an atheist? Even though you had a Baptism and Reconciliation and First Holy Communion AND you go to Catholic school? We may not attend Mass on Sundays – and we may not be super religious — but this is a God-loving, Commandments-abiding, Bible-believing family for Christ’s sake, you insufferable little heathen!

But I realize that may not be the best speech to bring him back to the Lord.

So I casually ask when this new development occurred.

“There’s this girl in class who told us that she’s atheist and I realized I am too.”

OK, I see.

“So you think we’re all just here randomly? There’s no God or higher power?” I ask.

“Oh, I believe in God. I just don’t believe in religion,” he says.

“So maybe you’re agnostic?”

He scoops up the rest of his corn with his fork and thumb. “Yeah, OK.”

OK, at least I’ve upgraded him from atheist to agnostic for now. I’ll tackle religion next.

About a year later…

So then…he comes in the kitchen, puts his script on the table, sits down, and says, “I’m pretty sure that I’m bisexual.”

Um…OK.

Influence Bisexual
I keep cleaning the counters and ask, “Really? What makes you think that?”

“Well, you know the play this summer at acting class is Cabaret, right? Well, some of the characters are bisexual – and some of the teenagers in the cast were saying at lunch that they’re bisexual. And I realized that I am too.”

OK, I see.

I sit down with him. “Tucker, you know I’ll love you and accept you, no matter what — so if you’re bisexual, then you’re bisexual. But let’s talk about this for a minute. First of all, you haven’t had any sexual experiences yet, so let’s not be so quick to label yourself bisexual, mono-sexual, tri-sexual or multi-sexual, ok? Secondly, do you have romantic feelings for any boys?”

“Oh yeah, lots of boys.”

“Really, like who?” I ask.

“I can’t think of anyone right now,” he says in that same tone of voice he uses to say that he could hit a homerun if he wanted to, but he just doesn’t feel like it right now.

So I say, “Well, you’ve been pretty open about everyone you’ve ever had a crush on since kindergarten all the way until now — and it’s always been girls.”

So we have a long talk about peer pressure, fitting in with the crowd, making rash pronouncements about identity, etc. It’s a great talk, but I don’t push. I know that this new alleged identity trait will eventually go the same way as his other announcements.

BUT MEANWHILE, I’m thinking to myself, Good Lord, do I have THE most easily-influenced child in the world?

At the future frat party, when someone says, “Hey, who wants to down 4 Tequila shots, then ride this skateboard off the roof into that pool of hot coeds?” – will my son be the kid who thinks, “That sounds like a splendid idea!”?

Yes. Yes, he will.

I can’t believe he is so impressionable.

What’s next?

“I just watched a great episode of Psych – by the way, I’m psychic.”

“This German Chocolate Cake is delicious! Those Germans really know how to bake. I’m joining the Nazi Party!”

Influence Vampire Eric Allie
“I saw that Twilight movie. Great news, Mom, I am IMMORTAL. Also — can we have blood for dinner?”

Let’s hope not — but with my kid…I wouldn’t be surprised!

— Darcy Perdu

Insomnia Illustration by Erika LeBarre; Vampire Illustration by Eric Allie

(Please let me know I’m not the ONLY one with a highly impressionable child! Any examples to share from your kids – or from when YOU were a kid? Share them in the Comments Section!)

My Insomniac Atheist Bisexual Vampire Son P Small

And You Are… ?

And You Are - Image
So then…I answer the phone with a cheerful hello, and I hear my 5-year-old daughter’s voice saying, “Hi Mom, it’s me, Chloe, your daughter.”

I laugh at her thorough manner of identifying herself — which she does every single time she calls me.

Does she think I have dementia?

It’s as though she thinks I couldn’t immediately recognize her voice –

or figure out that a female voice saying “Hi Mom,” must mean it’s my only daughter on the line –

or realize that she is the only Chloe I know, so it must be Chloe my daughter as opposed to Chloe the baker or Chloe the hair stylist.

So I always respond with, “Oh hello Chloe my daughter, it’s so nice to hear from you. This is Mom, your mother, Darcy Perdu. Shoe size 10. Bra size 36C. What can I do for you?”

To which she replies, “Mooooooooooooooooom!”

I imagine there is some eye-rolling happening as well, but after all, we are on the phone, so I can only assume.

***

Of course, as she grows to be a teen, the tables turn. Apparently, now I am the one who is over-identifying.

Chloe, shaking her head and sighing, as she looks over my shoulder at my computer screen:

“Mom, you don’t need to sign your comments on Facebook! You don’t have to say, ‘Happy Birthday, nephew Brian. Love, Aunt Darcy’ — he KNOWS who he is — and he can see YOUR name is Darcy Perdu right there on the Facebook screen!”

Well, all right, Chloe daughter female off-spring. Jeesh.

— Darcy Perdu

(How do your kids identify themselves on the phone? Or are they texting monkeys now? Do you struggle with appropriate etiquette on Facebook like I do? Share in the Comments!)

And You Are P

Do You Want a Harvard Tennis Player or a Scotch-Drinking Crankypants?

Harvard Tennis Player

So then…my neighbor Dan asks me to send an email to our neighbors to see if anyone would like to host a recent college grad at their home next week.

(I handle our neighborhood newsletter where we share our favorite vendors, refer babysitters, buy/sell items, and promote our favorite charities.)

Dan asks me to post this announcement:

My wife and I were contacted today by *********, a recent Harvard graduate, who will be coming to town next week to play Tennis in the Men’s Pro Tennis Challenge. He is trying to save money and needs boarding for the week. We will host him for several nights and are seeking other families in the neighborhood who may want to help as well. Please contact me if you can help at phone **********. Thank you, Dan

So I send the email to the 550 neighbors in our residential development.

Almost immediately, I receive a response from a neighbor named Jack, who replies with:

Darcy,
Perfect — just what I need, a handsome Harvard tennis player to hang out with my wife and daughters!  

And what about me? For the next newsletter to the neighbors, please announce this: “Fat, bald guy, likes to sit on the couch, watch TV, drink scotch, and complain. Available for parties. Contact Jack at **********. Thanks, Jack”

This totally cracks me up. As much as I’d love to host a hunky Harvard athlete at my home… a wise-crackin’ Scotch-swillin’ crankypants who makes himself “available for parties” sounds pretty hilarious too! Aw hell, invite them BOTH over!

— Darcy Perdu

(Are YOU a TV-watching, liquor-guzzling complainer? Have you ever hosted someone at your house? International exchange students? Military? My parents hosted some Up-With-People college singers at our house when we were teens – and my sisters and I fell in love with all of the boys! Share Comments below!)

Why She Called Me a Wise Ass

Poodle Skirt

So then…my friend Mindy sends me and her other pals an email asking if any of us have an outfit that her young daughter Amanda can wear to a school performance:

Mindy writes:
Does anybody have a poodle skirt we could borrow? Amanda needs it for a school concert.  Let me know. Thanks! — Mindy

I respond:
I do not have a poodle skirt. Or a poodle. I have a skirt. It is XL and long. Amanda could use it as a tent. If she needs a tent, let me know. — Darcy

Mindy writes:
I am surrounded by wise asses!!! — Mindy

I respond:
Yes — wise asses — and WIDE asses — hence, the XL skirt. – Darcy

— Darcy Perdu

(Are you a wise ass too? Give an example!  Did you ever have a Poodle Skirt? Or a poodle? Or a skirt? Share in the Comments Section below.)

Human Head Found WHERE?

This news article is cracking me up - look how they describe this bizarre event! #funny #strange #humor

So then…I click on the headline, “Human Head Found in Bag,” because — seriously, how could you not?

The Los Angeles Times online article says:

“The human head, housed inside a bag, was discovered by a dog at the popular Bronson Canyon Park hiking trail. The Los Angeles Times adds that detectives are searching for other possible body parts nearby in the park, and that this is being considered a possible homicide.”

Let’s read that last part again:

“…this is being considered a possible homicide.”

I snort with laughter.

They find a HEAD — in a BAG –and they CONSIDER it a POSSIBLE homicide?

As opposed to what?

An accident?
“I accidentally popped my head off into that bag. Shit. I hate when that happens.”

A suicide?
“I committed suicide by eating my body — and all that’s left is my head. Because I draw the line at eating brains. That’s just gross.”

A hoax?
“Yes, that’s my head, but I’m not actually dead. My body is alive and well in Encino. I just removed my head for a short time since we’re not getting along right now. As soon as Head apologizes for its rude and inconsiderate behavior, then Body will re-attach. Please leave my head where you found it – as well as the bag. It’s Louis Vuitton.”

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!
I LOVE SUBSCRIBERS!

(Any news stories catch your eye lately that seem odd? Have you ever accidentally popped your head off into a bag? Do tell in the Comments Section!)

Oh HELL No

Oh, HELL No! My Daughter's Hilarious Surprise #funny #bathtub #cast #brokenleg #parenting #kids #humor

So then…she puts her foot down – literally…and loudly.

Loudly because the foot is encased in a cast, thanks to the fracture Chloe sustained at her 6th Grade Field Day.

So now Chloe, age 11, is sitting on her bed, already two weeks into the cast — and I’m trying to explain that her little “bird baths” of patting her skin with damp washcloths are just not adequate, in the most polite terms possible.

“You stink, Chloe. You stink to High Heaven. You need to take a shower right now.”

“No! The plastic bags don’t cover the cast well enough. The water will still get inside my cast and then the skin will be all disgusting like that photo on the wall at the doctor’s office! Did you see that kid’s skin, Mom, did you?” Her voice becomes a little high-pitched and I can tell we’re headed for a meltdown.

“OK, Chloe, fine, no shower, but at least a bath.” I duck into the bathroom adjoining her room, push down the plug, and turn on the warm water. “You can just stick your left leg out of the bath and we’ll get the rest of your body covered in soapy water then rinse – and you’ll finally be clean.”

“No.”

“Whaddaya mean ‘no?’ Yes, yes, most definitely yes.” I say, grabbing soap and washcloths.

“No, Mom, that bathtub is filthy. Have you seen it? I’m not getting in there!”

I clench my teeth. The bathtub is not filthy, but Chloe has a slight OCD issue, so I pop into the bathroom a moment and return with a flourish. “OK, all clean. I just cleaned it! Now let’s get you in there.”

She folds her arms. “No, I’m not taking a bath. I.hate.baths.

It infuriates me when she takes such a stubborn stance – it’s so, so, so – like me.

WHY do you hate baths?”

“Because you’re dirty and then the water becomes dirty, so you’re lying there in your own filth!” she says.

I sigh. “Chloe, it won’t be filthy. We just need to get your body submerged in the water and soap you up then you can get out right away. Now come on.”

She begrudgingly trudges into the bathroom. I lower her in, the cast dangling out the side. I wash her hair, manage to get her all soaped up, and rinsed off – which are major feats of endurance on my behalf since she is squealing, complaining, and caterwauling the whole time.

She is terrified of getting the cast wet and apparently the only possible prevention is YELLING at me nonstop.

Finally, finally, she is ready to be pulled out of the bathtub.

She puts her other leg over the side of the tub to join the cast leg — her buttocks still submerged in the water. I grab a towel so that I can hold her hands and leverage her up and out of the bath without getting the cast wet.

“See, it wasn’t so bad,” I say. “You weren’t lying in your own filth. We got you nice and cle—“

“Errrr-Oh,” she utters, with a surprised look on her face.

I freeze. “What? What?”

“Warm water makes me have to—” She looks down, and there — spreading throughout the tub water is a golden liquid I can only describe as urine. URINE, PEOPLE!

It is all over her body — and because her hair is so long, the golden liquid is now swirling all through the hair that I just washed.

I give her a withering glare.

She gives me a giggle. Then a chortle and snort.
And before you know it, we’re laughing our asses off.

Yes, we have to drain the tub and start all over again to wash her hair and her body.

And yes, she prophetically predicted she would be lying in her own filth – and indeed she was.

But this time around, we’re laughing so much at nature’s little surprise that the washing goes pretty quick and easy.

In this latest Battle of Wills
Mother-Daughter: 0
Mother Nature: 1

— Darcy Perdu

Catch all the funny So Then Stories in your inbox by clicking right HERE!

Original Illustration for So Then Stories by Mary Chowdbury

(Any examples of stubbornness from your kids? Any bathtub oopsies? If you agree that casts are the WORST, let me know!)

BEST Father’s Day Gift — and COMPLETELY Inappropriate (Perhaps NSFW)

Men swimsuits
So then…I find the PERFECT Father’s Day Gift.

A Colorful “C*ck Sock!”

When my friend posts the above image on her Facebook page to playfully suggest these swimsuits for her friends’ hubbies this summer…

it prompts lots of comments from her pals and me – and I’ll admit there is not one mature comment amongst us.

Then it hits me. A brilliant idea for an invention.

If this tiny piece of fabric that only just barely covers the MALE private parts down below is considered acceptable “swimwear” –

then why don’t I invent a similar swimsuit to just barely cover the FEMALE private parts up top?

I will literally make a SOCK that fits each individual boob so snugly that there is no need for straps or clasps — or that unnecessary material that wraps around the back!
Boob Tube Clipart Sock Lady
These will literally be socks that you simply pull onto each boob, then just walk out the door! Let your boobs roam free!
Boob Tube Lil Kim Final
Lil Kim has the basic idea here – but no need for a fancy sparkly mini-fan – just grab a sock from your sock drawer and pull it on!

So what SIZE is most appropriate for YOUR boobalicious boobies?

Sweat socks — for the busty gal?
Boob Tube Sweat Socks White
Anklet socks — for the more modestly-endowed?
Boob Tube Ankle Socks Purple
Baby socks — for our flat-chested friends?
Boob Tube Baby Socks Final Final
Knee socks – for those older swingin’ breasts that literally reach your knees?
Boob Tube Knee Socks Final
And what more appropriate name for these new swimsuit tops than…

BOOB TUBES?

They are literally TUBES for your BOOBS!

I will even provide special Lopsided Boob Tubes for those of you with non-symmetrical bosoms – just mix n’ match an Anklet with a Knee Sock.

And imagine the color and design combinations you can create by raiding your sock drawer!
Boob Tube Colorful Socks

We can even knit socks to resemble your bosoms!
Boob Tube Knitted Sock
Special occasion? Black Tie affair? Tug these on!
Boob Tube Black Tie Final
Do you happen to have 5 nipples per breast? Then I have the perfect Boob Tubes for you!
Boob Tube Toe Socks
And if you run out of socks, just grab a scarf – and voila – Bob’s your uncle.

Boob Tube Christina Aguilera Crop Crop
Rock that scarf, Christina Aguilera!

Of course, my FAVORITE SCARF OF ALL TIME is from monster-munch.com –
because this scarf doesn’t HIDE the boobs – it CELEBRATES the boobs!

Boob Tube Scarfs monster-munch.com
And look how delighted Grandma on the left is!

So while I work on creating my Boob Tubes for sale –

you no doubt want to know where you can pick up some “C*ck Socks” for Father’s Day.

I’ve looked everywhere and the only version I can find for sale right now is aptly called:    The Tuggie”

Boob Tube Tuggie Censored
http://www.spencersonline.com/product/pd-the-tuggie/

You’re welcome.

— Darcy Perdu

(Do you agree all the men in your life will LOVE this Father’s Day Gift? And will they wear it to the beach or lake this 4th of July? Would you buy my Boob Tubes invention – or are you going to totally steal my idea and just use your own raggedly ol’ socks? Who will be brave enough to send in the first photo?)

The Horrifying Secret That EVERYONE Knew But Me

The Horrifying Secret Everyone Knew But Me - Hilarious!!  #mom #daughter #parenting  #thetalk #funny

So then…I open my backpack and untangle my jump rope from my friendship bracelets so I can reach my math workbook.

In the kitchen, I grab two chocolate Ding Dongs and a cold glass of milk, and head to the TV room with workbook and pencil, so I can settle in to watch the afternoon Million Dollar Movie. Life as a 5th grader is good.

I’m halfway through the movie, 100% through my snack, and 5% through my homework, when my Mom calls me to the back of the house, shuts the door and smiles.

I smile too, wondering what prompted this private meeting. I’m a pretty happy-go-lucky 10-year-old kid, so I assume it must be good news.

Young Darcy Happy Shelly 5.25.13
“Next week your Girl Scout troop is going to show you girls a film. So the troop leader suggested we prepare our daughters for what it’s about – and answer any questions you might have,” she says.

“OK,” I say brightly. “What’s the film about?”

“Well, it’s about an amazing monthly miracle – a special stage in a young girl’s life when she experiences some very important physical changes.”

Then she calmly and patiently explains the monthly cycle.

This is MY side of the conversation:

What?
What?
Wait. WHAT?

What are you talking about?
Women do what?
From where? WHERE?
Are you serious?
No really, are you serious?
I am calm.

For how long?
FIVE DAYS?
Oh my God. Won’t I die if I lose that much?
OK, OK, well maybe I can handle it, if it’s just five days.
Wait – five days EVERY MONTH?
For how many years?
What?
What?

Young Darcy Surprised 5.25.13
Mom, Mom, you’re kidding, right?
You’re kidding, Mom.
I am calm.

When is this going to happen to me?
That soon?
Oh my God. That’s terrible.
A “miracle?” A “blessing?” It’s not a “blessing.” It sounds horrible!
“Falobian tubes?” “Ovreeze?” What are you talking about?

Young Darcy Confused Shelly 5.25.13
Who cares about babies? I’m 10. I don’t want babies now.
Why can’t it wait until then?
But why not?
Can’t you talk to somebody about that? It shouldn’t happen until you want to have babies.
You gotta talk to somebody about that – you gotta change that.

I just…I just can’t believe it. This happens to ALL women?
You?
Mrs. Hardison? Mrs. Mitchell?
My teachers? The nuns?

How long has this been going on?
Oh come on!
ALL women who EVER lived? Seriously?
What about pioneer women?
Really? Like pioneer women who lived out west in covered wagons?
CAVE WOMEN?
That’s crazy. That’s just crazy.
I am calm.

So what do you do when it happens?
Oh.
Yeah, I have seen that big purple box with the white rose on it in your bathroom sometimes.
That’s what it’s for?
I dunno — I just thought it was adult toilet paper or something.
Wait – pioneer women didn’t have those purple boxes. What did they use?
Seriously? Oh my God, Mom, I’m gonna be sick. This is so awful.
All of it. This is too much. Really, it’s just too much.

Young Darcy Panic 5.25.13
Who else knows about this?
Everybody?
Dad? Dad knows about this? My brothers?
Oh my God, how embarrassing!
Everybody in the whole world knows about this except me?
Oh, OK, so everyone older than me knows. But still, that’s like billions of people!
And they’ve all just been walking around keeping this big secret from me?
That’s terrible, Mom. Really. Terrible. Shame on them. Shame on them.

And men don’t do this?
They don’t have anything like this?
That’s pretty unfair, Mom.

Young Darcy Mad 5.25.13
This is just bad news. Bad news you’re giving me here, Mom.
And you know what? I’m not gonna do it.
No, I don’t have to.
I’m just not gonna do it.
Nope. No way, no how.
I’m not.
I’m not.
I’m not.
I AM CALM!!

*****

And the fact is — I am so traumatized by this revelation when I was 10 that I actually succeeded in avoiding this dastardly occurrence until I turned 15. Take that, menses!

But of course Mom was right – this monthly “blessing” and a healthy reproductive system produced my two beautiful babies –

one of whom is now a tall, handsome son –

and one of whom grew up to be a lovely young girl –

Chloe Happy Shelly 5.25.13

who I drew aside one day to tell her about…
an “amazing monthly miracle.”

Chloe Panic Shelly 5.25.13

Written by Darcy Perdu of www.SoThenStories.com

For more hilarious true tales, subscribe right HERE!  You’ll love the laughs!

(Who told YOU about this fabulously fun cycle? How did YOU react? Were you traumatized like me – or did you just go with the flow? (Oh, yes, pun ABSOLUTELY intended.) Have you told YOUR daughter yet?)

Original Illustrations for So Then Stories by Shelly Draven

How did YOU find out?  My Mom told me and it did NOT go well.  Nope.  Here's my funny reaction! #humor

I’m Sorry — WHO Planted That Evidence?

Who Planted That Evidence
So then…he says, “Listen, I have bad news.”

“What kind of bad news, Sam?” I ask the broker on the phone. “Your client’s scheduled to move into one of our office buildings next week. He’s already signed the 7-year lease, so he can’t try to renegotiate terms now.”

“Well, no, it’s not the terms. It’s my client. Philip told me this morning that his company can’t lease your building,” the broker says.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“Well, the FTC shut him down, seized his documents, and froze his assets for allegedly advertising fraudulent government grant programs,” he explains.

“Are you kidding me, Sam? You’re his broker. You vouched for him. You gave us references who vouched for him. We’ve already paid your commission out of his deposit – but now we lost this tenant and have to start over looking for a new one? How could you not know he’s running an illegal operation?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s totally innocent,” says Sam. “But you know the FTC – if they can’t find evidence against ya, they’ll just falsify documents to prove you guilty.”

???

(Oh, yeah, I did hear that about the FTC – in Communist Russia — in the 50’s!  Not. Since when does the Federal Trade Commisson have a reputation for framing businesspeople?)

If I ever get arrested, that’s what I’m going to say: “Oh, I’m totally innocent — but you know the cops, if they can’t find evidence on ya, they’ll just plant it.”

(Hmmmm. Well, actually, that defense DOES work. As long as you’re a celebrity.)

— Darcy Perdu

(Anyone try to give you a lame excuse to get out of a deal? Ever been accused of fraud by the FTC — or Russian Communists? Ever planted evidence on someone – like a sibling, perhaps!?  Post a comment!)