r/StandUpWorkshop

Anyone been travelling to SE Asia.

It's a party place.

I was in Vang Vieng laos.

For a time every night was a full moon party In that town.

I arrived late at night. Checked into a hostel shoved my backpack and passport into a locker and hit the town.

Got fucked on Laos Tiger whisky. $1 a bottle.

On the front it says smooth and mellon.

Assume they meant smooth and mellow. Of which it was neither.

A whiskey hangover is one thing. But Whisky with grammatical errors hits hard.

I got so drunk. The night was far from mellon.

I woke up on the beach. And the town looked different in the cold light of day.

I have no idea which hostel I checked into.

No idea who I was partying with.

It was full dude where's my hostel.

I was going up to people going. Do you know who I am.

People thought I was starting fights in the am.

I went to all the hostels and asked if they knew me.

And according to the good people of SE Asia, all us white people look the same same.

My speed date asked me to describe myself in one sentence.

Me-'l'm a man for all seasons'.

Her-'like Paul Scofield in that movie?'.

Me-'No,i work for MacCormick'.

I tried some additional re-writes to this bit based on earlier feedback.

“It always depresses me when actors from my favorite shows die. I mean, I’m just now recovering from the shock of losing Angela Lansbury. I can’t take another blow.  If anything should ever happen to Dick Van Dyke, if he just gets cut down in the prime of my life, I will just lose it. 

The worst part is after celebrities die when people talk about actors and their characters reuniting with their already dead castmates in the afterlife. If heaven exists, I guess they wouldn’t want to see their families, their lovers, their pets?

Apparently, these dead celebrities all say screw family, I’m going to see my old coworkers. Like the Golden Girls are definitely up there gossiping and eating cheesecake on heaven’s lanai, while their dead husbands are sleeping alone for eternity.

 When I die, I’m probably just going to skip seeing all of my dead loved ones and make a beeline for my former coworkers in heaven and get back to filling out spreadsheets and circling back on those emails, so I can close the loop on living.

Personally, I’m a little afraid of dying, but I’m actually terrified of turning into my mom.

My grandma’s been dead for almost 20 years, but she’s back every time mom picks up the phone.

Now if my mom ever drives her Oldsmobile through an optometrists office…with no injuries, I’ll know reincarnation is a real thing.

When she calls, I don’t even say hello anymore. I just answer and say “ok, who died?”

And if she hasn’t had a chance to read the obituaries that day, she’s just calling, because she just wants to “check in” and update me on people I haven’t seen since kindergarten…and the horrible things that have happened to them.

[Act out her lowering her glasses, lean in close and say]…”now don’t say anything, but…” 

Who am I going to tell, Eileen? Do you think Reddit cares about my 3rd grade teacher’s appendectomy? 

And why are you whispering like you’re trying to sell me an 8-ball outside the 7-11?

[Pull out phone]…Uh-oh, now I’m being rude. Sorry, my phone’s buzzing. Oh no Abe Vigoda died. Again?! 

I better call my mom and let her know.

I posted this a while back and have worked on tightening it up a bit:

“It always depresses me when actors from my favorite shows die. I mean, I’m just now recovering from the shock of losing Angela Lansbury. I can’t take another blow.  If anything should ever happen to Dick Van Dyke, if he just gets cut down in the prime of my life, I will just lose it. 

The worst part is after celebrities die when people talk about actors and their characters reuniting with their already dead castmates in the afterlife. If heaven exists, I guess they wouldn’t want to see their families, their lovers, their pets?

Apparently, these dead celebrities won’t even try to see their families, but the fictional characters they played on Charles in Charge are definitely grabbing a couple beers together in the afterlife.

When I die, after I’ve had enough of seeing all of my dead loved ones, I know I’ll be thrilled to see my former coworkers in heaven and get back to filling out spreadsheets and circling back on those emails, so I can close the loop on living.

Speaking of death, our younger selves die slowly as we turn into our parents while we age. You really can’t avoid it.

My grandma’s been dead for almost 20 years, but she’s back every time mom picks up the phone.

Now if my mom ever drives her Oldsmobile through an optometrists office…with no injuries, I’ll know reincarnation is a real thing.

When she calls, I don’t even say hello anymore. I just answer and say “ok, who died?”

And if she hasn’t had a chance to read the obituaries that day, she’s just calling, because she just wants to “check in” and update me on people I haven’t seen since kindergarten…and the horrible things that have happened to them.

[Act out her lowering her glasses, lean in close and say]…”now don’t say anything, but…” 

Who am I going to tell, Eileen? Do you think Reddit cares about my 3rd grade teacher’s appendectomy? 

And why are you whispering like you’re trying to sell me an 8-ball outside the 7-11

[Pull out phone]…Uh-oh, now I’m being rude. Sorry, my phone’s buzzing. Oh no an actor from an old tv show died. Hmmm…who’s calling me?

Oh hi mom…yeah, I know who died.”

I am doing some short crowd warm up and will try to be a little topical. Would below work as a one time joke?

Have you all seen Love on the Spectrum?

It’s a really beautiful show.

It’s about people on the autism spectrum trying to date and navigate relationships.

And you really find yourself rooting for them.

“Please, let this go well.”

And speaking of people who struggle to navigate emotions, relationships, and social signals…

have you seen Love is Blind?

It’s basically the same core problem.

Just with more tequila.

The difference is that in Love on the Spectrum, you’re really rooting for the participants.

In Love is Blind, you’re more like:

“Can someone please hit THAT guy with a beer bottle?”

They are two completely different viewing experiences.

In Love on the Spectrum, you think:

“Everyone deserves love.”

In Love is Blind, you think:

“Nope.”

(for the length I need help with some chuckles along the road)

A couple weeks ago, I stopped at roadside memorial because there was a pop-up flower stand next to it and I was curious.  Julian, the guy selling flowers said he was doing it to honor his beloved sister….the one who got killed.  I felt sorry for him so I bought a big bouquet and placed it next to the cross.

A couple days later I was passing another roadside memorial and there was Julian again, with a flower stand.  I parked, went over to Julian and said hi, but I don’t think he recognized me.  He said he was selling flowers to honor his brother, the one who was killed there.  I bought some flowers and placed them by the cross.

Unbelievably I saw Julian again that week at, YEP, another roadside memorial selling flowers.  This was weird so I asked him if he knew the person who died.  Sadly, he said it was his sister, and he was doing this to honor her.

(slap forehead) Son of a bitch!  I’m a so slow.   It finally dawned on me what Julian was doing.

What a great side gig, genius really.  I could do the same thing for some extra bucks.  The hard part would be figuring out how to stage my sister’s fatal accident.

Man, Julian must have a bunch of siblings.

This would be two birds with one accident.   Money….and as a kid I always wanted my sister dead.

I’m married, and my wife and I come from very different backgrounds. Even our birthplaces.

She was born in Concord, Mass, where the American Revolution began. And I was born in Stoughton, Mass, which has a strip club in its town center.

Her birthplace gave us Liberty and mine gave us Destiny.

I recently lost my part time job but it’s fine I can still afford everything….except for food or gas but nobody can afford that right now. At least I get to find out what it’s like to stand in a Soviet era bread line when I visit the food pantry. Just don’t say what’s up comrade because you will get a very confused look from a guy with tear drop tatttos on his face.

soooooo i got a new gf and brught her to meet my parents

when they meet her their like oooh we know you from somewhee.... then mom sudenly says OOOOOOOH I REMEMBERED , LAST NIGHT WE WATCHED YOU SUCKING COCK ON TV

all of them started laughing but i was confused. i asked my gf didnt you tell me you work as a presenter in a news channel ?

she was like didnt i tell you? i work at..

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COCK NEWS

/

another option : SUCKING COCK TV

Here at the corrective plastic surgery center we are

inundated.we use humour to get through.today a client came in with hung up eyelids,cheeks that were borderline frozen which caused her great difficulty expressing herself.

Her case profile has been titled 'Madonna'.

I’ve been thinking about the difference between doctors and veterinarians.

You go to a health clinic and the doctor barely wants to shake your hand.

Last time I went to the doctor, I basically had to force a hug out of him before he examined my prostate.

And even then, it felt like only one of those things was medically necessary.

But you go to the vet, and they’re down on the floor like:

“Who’s a brave little boy?”

“Who’s doing so well?”

A vet will cuddle you, praise you, scratch you behind the ear...

and then five minutes later go:

“Should we put him down?”

That is a terrifying emotional range.

Because at a hospital, they’ll do everything to keep you alive.

Whatever it takes.

At the vet, the threshold is shockingly low.

The animal doesn’t even have to be that sick.

It’s basically up to the owner.

“Fido is perfectly healthy...

but I’ve started playing a lot of pickleball this fall, and honestly, the calendar is getting tricky.”

That’s the kind of power most doctors can only dream of.

Imagine if human doctors had that.

“John is doing fine...

but his wife has started yoga on Tuesdays…”

But it would cut down on the waiting lists.

I would appreciate feedback on below if there is something here. It is a bit unstructured, the recognition might be too vague. And the punch-lines are a bit weak.

Fresh mouth equals mint!

The entire dental industry has agreed: fresh mouth equals mint.

Toothpaste, mouthwash, chewing gum, all mint.

But then you go to the dentist for fluoride varnish and suddenly the hygienist goes:

“Would you like banana, bubble gum, or strawberry?”

Why?

Who decided that after a professional dental cleaning, what my mouth really needs is the flavor profile of an ice cream parlor?

I asked for mint once.

The dentist looked at me like I’d asked for a beer.

My dentist only offers banana flouride varnish.

Who decided banana was an acceptable flavor of dental freshness?

Banana never feels clean.

Nobody has ever eaten a banana and thought:

“Ah, the freshness of banana breath.”

Is there a secret deal between the Dental Association and Chiquita?

It honestly makes me question the whole appointment.

It’s like taking your car in for a full service, new oil, new filters, everything, and then the mechanic hands you the keys and says:

“All done.”

Then he opens the gas cap, squirts in some ketchup, and goes:

“That’s for the finish.”

The Two Types of Bathroom Visit

When you have small children, there are only two types of bathroom visits.

There is no middle ground.

The first is when you’re alone with the kids.

Then the door is wide open.

It’s a tactical emergency.

No privacy.

You’re sitting there trying to do your business, while using one foot to stop a one-year-old from licking the toilet brush.

But then there’s the second kind.

The holy kind.

When your partner is also home.

That’s when you ask questions you never had to ask before becoming a parent:

“Is it okay if I go to the bathroom now?”

And suddenly my biology completely changes.

The exact same bathroom visit takes 45 minutes.

Not because my stomach is upset.

Because it’s the only alone time I have.

The bathroom becomes a spa.

I lock the door.

Sit down.

Take out my phone.

And finish an entire season of a show.

The difficult part is the acting when you come out.

You can’t come out looking refreshed.

You have to come out holding your stomach, sighing, and saying to your partner:

“I don’t know… something’s not right with my stomach.”

I don't really talk about politics.

Except at work and Thanksgiving dinner.

But what they don't want you to know is that illegal migrants are still coming over the border every day.

And once they're here, they're protected. 50% of them never leave.

I'm talking about Canadian geese.

Without a doubt, Canada's worst ambassadors.

Canadians are loved worldwide, but somehow Candian geese are hated everywhere they go.

That's because Canadian geese, they don't choose violence.

They just are violence.

I'm just trying to walk to my car, and now I'm being attacked for no reason.

Then some stranger who wasn't even there is accusing me of harassing the geese.

She's yelling at me to leave them alone.

What are you talking about? I'm the victim here, lady.

Now I'm being attacked twice for something I didn't even do.

Some people call them snowbirds.

I call them seven pound shitbags.

Hey Canada — we can always just send our snowbirds up there.

You know, Florida's drunkest retirees,

waddling around,

blocking traffic,

honking at everyone.

I mean, at least our snowbirds don't shit on your car.

Look. I'm not a goose-ist.

And I know what you're thinking, that I'm about to say the most goose-ist thing ever.

But I've never been attacked by an American goose.

And when Canada sends these birds, they're not sending their best.

They're sending criminals.

They're eating the dogs and eating the cats....food.

And they are absolutely shitting on everything.

And some, I assume, are good geese.

Make American Geese Again.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Question: How does this read? I'm a MAGA person? I'm making fun of MAGA? I just hate geese? Geese just hate me?

Structure of this bit for those confused or interested.

Setup / Misdirect — conspiratorial opener that lets the audience believe the bit is about immigration

Reveal — "I'm talking about Canadian geese"

Contrast — Canada good, geese bad

Indictment — the character documents goose crimes

Snowbird Trade — diplomatic proposal, Florida retirees as parallel

Goose-ist Disclaimer — racist-disclaimer rhetorical move applied to geese

Trump Cadence — "not sending their best, criminals, eating the dogs..."

Closer / Button Stack — concession, slogan, sign-off

I’m dealing with a death in the family.

My pet hamster died.

He’d been sick for a while, then one day he died

in a drunk driving accident.

Snuffles was intoxicated behind the wheel

which is weird …

usually hamsters run inside one.

Not to get all serious in here, but for a second I want to switch the tone a little and share something. So Since I was relatively young, I had abandonment issues. People would randomly walk out on me, never come back...

Then I would just report them on steam or riot client, depending on which game I was playing, cuz that definitely was an issue I feel like. I really don't like people leaving without any repercussions. Like get your shit together.

For example, I saw one time a dad beat the mom and to my surprise, it was the dad that abandoned the family, not the mom. A person like that father is not someone who I'd like to have in my 5v5 competitive team game as this person does not seem to be very cooperative.

-----------------------------------------

Would love some feedback on the idea and how unpack it. This will mostly be for the audience that is involved in video games or knows a fair deal about that for it to make sense to them.

Was it clear? Was the thought process good? It's one of my first attempts at writing jokes and really learning to do it so any feedback is greatly appreciated.

I’m colorblind.

It’s not a huge disability.

The thing I suffer from most is that there’s nothing to take advantage of.

It’s a terrible disability, benefits-wise.

If you have bad eyesight, you get glasses.

If you have trouble walking, you can get a cane.

If you’re blind, you can even get a dog.

I want a color dog.

A Labrador that follows me around H&M and growls when my pants don’t match my shirt.

But I get nothing.

No benefits.

No special parking permit.

At the very least, colorblind people should be allowed to run red lights without getting fined.

It’s not even a sexy disability.

You can tell because there isn’t a single fetish category for colorblind people.

Nobody is searching for:

“Man can’t tell red from green, 100% amateur.”

Hungarians

It’s only a matter of time till they invade Turkey

(Sorry)

Confusion tonight at the Trump-Xi summit when the president turned up at the chinese chip makers negotiation bearing dips.

I’ll be honest.

I’ve watched a fair amount of Japanese porn.

It’s a strange genre, because they always censor the genitals.

It’s just this big square of blurry pixels.

Like someone is trying to protect the identity of a penis.

And if you watch enough of that, something happens to your brain.

It starts associating sex with low resolution.

Eventually, I don’t even know if I’m turned on by the sex anymore...

or by the pixels.

It’s become a real problem in everyday life.

I can’t watch Crimewatch anymore.

As soon as they show blurry CCTV footage from a petrol station.

a man in a hoodie...

his face pixelated...

and the presenter says:

“Police are looking for this man...”

I just think:

“So am I.”