A Sense of My Humor

You probably don’t need to read this entry. But maybe you do.

So yesterday we were on coffee break, and for some reason (probably because several of us were twisted individuals) the conversation turned to clubbing seals. J asked if any of us had ever seen the Greenpeace video of seals being clubbed, and then described it to us. (Yes, it sounds pretty horrible.) Then the conversation went like this:

“What I wonder,” said J, “is how people who club seals for a living live with themselves. I mean, imagine you club seals day in and day out, and one night you’re at a bar and you’re talking to an attractive woman, and she asks you what you do for a living. What do you say? ‘Well, I go out and club–”

“I go out clubbing!” says A, and we all collapse in laughter. “Want to go out clubbing with me?”

“You say, ‘I’m in procurement,'” I say.

With increasing silliness, J says “Hey, I can get you a fur coat – cheap!”

“It was -” I splutter, “It was on seal!”

Five other people around the table groan loudly.

(Sadly, the domain punmaster.com is already taken.)