My Point...And I Do Have One

friends
    Dear Person …
The only way you can prevent people from talking about you when you leave the room is to never leave the room. I would recommend this course of action highly. Don’t go to lunch. Don’t go to the bathroom—wear a catheter if necessary. And always make sure your back is to a wall. Never let anyone sneak up on you. If a phone rings, don’t answer it. Follow these simple rules and your workplace will be fun to work in again.
     
    Dear Ellen,
Whenever I’m walking my dog, people bend down and talk to her, saying things like, “You’re a cute doggie. How old are you?” Is this weird?
    Signed, Wondering if it’s weird that people bend down and talk to my dog
    Dear Wondering …
It’s only weird if they’re expecting an answer back from your dog.
    It would also be weird if somebody asked you how old your dog was and you looked down at her and said, “Say that you’re two years old,” in the same voice that people talk to babies with. Because no matter how long you pleaded, the dog is never going to talk (neither is the baby, unless you plead for a year or so).
    Also, a dog doesn’t care how old she is. Yet some people have birthday parties for their dogs. Somepeople have
surprise
birthday parties for their dogs. That’s just a waste, because any party would be a surprise to a dog. She has no idea when her birthday is. A dog doesn’t sit around thinking, “Boy, my birthday is coming up in two weeks. I hope they throw me a party.”
    Dear Ellen,
How would I explain to an alien that people bet on horse races and dog races, but they don’t bet on people running or car races?
    Please forward your answer to the Municipal 200 on the planet Qogratz, located on the far side of the Milky Way.
    Signed, Going on a trip and don’t expect to be back any time soon
    Dear Going …
    I guess in order to bet on a race there has to be some sort of animal involved. We’d probably bet on the Indy 500 if there was a monkey driving around in a race car. Maybe we’d bet on the 100-yard dash if all the sprinters had to carry a pig while they ran (this might make the winning times a lot slower).
    Also, have fun on your trip. I hope that you read this before you leave, because I’m not sure that I can forward this answer; you didn’t leave a zip code! You know how strict they are about that.
    Dear Ellen,
Hi. My name is Spoogy. What do you think about that?
    Signed, Spoogy
    Dear Spoogy,
I think it’s great.
     
    Dear Ellen,
Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?
    Signed, Spoogy
    Dear Spoogy,
You stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
     
    Dear Ellen,
Not me.
    Signed, Spoogy
    Dear Spoogy,
Yes, you.
     
    Dear Ellen,
Couldn’t be.
    Signed, Spoogy
    Dear Spoogy,
    Then who, my dear Spoogy, then who?
    You obviously need more help than I can give. I recommend you talk to a counselor or a clergyman or basically anyone else besides me.

crazy
superstitions
that really
work!

If your nose itches, someone wants to kiss you.
If the clasp on your necklace has turned to the front, someone is thinking about you.
If your ears are burning, someone is talking about you. If your ears are itchy, they are dirty.
If your palms are burning, you will be coming into some money soon. If your palms are ringing, you are crazy.
If you hit your funny bone, you will hear a joke within twenty-four hours. If you hit your head, you will cry.
If you find a bunny in your yard, a distant relative will marry a Finnish diplomat in September.
If a spider is in your pants, you will hop around and scream.
If you sleep with a teabag tied around your head, I don’t know why.

the benefits
of being a
celebrity
by

ellen degeneres, big enormous star

    M any people ask me, “Ellen, how has fame changed your life? What does it feel like to be a star?” And really, it makes me laugh—I mean I’m no different from anyone else. I guess just because I’m a “celebrity” (or, if you prefer, America’s most beloved comic sweetheart) they assume my life is weird or something. My daily routine is pretty much the same as yours—or even yours.
    I wake up around—oh seven, seven o’ five. My house-boy, Quaw, prepares my breakfast, usually a Figurine and a glass of apple juice and maybe half of a banana. Then I’ll play with my pony for a while out by the lake—that brings me up to lunchtime. Quaw will usually surprise me for lunch. Sometimes he’ll be dressed up as an Indian and serve some spicy Indian dish and a Pepsi with a straw. Or,