Away in the homeland for the holidays, Bex attempts to begin a new sf0 colony. AZ Zero!!! Duhn duhn DUHN!


All she has to do is convince someone to play.

Sadly, Tucson isn’t really a flashmob kind of town (yet), and describing such involved tasks as the Ridiculous Protest, Parking Day, Calvinball, etc only induces frightened looks and polite ignoring from the locals (namely Bex's friends and family).

Hmm. Clearly some plotting will be required. Tucson must be eased in. Ah-HA! The perfect trick: find all the tasks that could be done without any planning. Tasks that might be done naturally by old friends out for a night on the town. Smaller tasks. Bar tasks. Yes.

Step One: Pump Woundie full of Jack Daniels. Check.
In total Bex and Woundie crawled to five different bars having at least one drink in each.

Step Two: Find a victim, er um, Stranger with whom to task.
Three drinks in and Mr. CJ the U of Oregon basketball player joined us:



Step Three: Work up to jokes.

For tasking amongst Woundie and Bex, the only jokes that would do would be the most befuddlingly idiotic examples of witless humor. This is because in 8th grade Bex and Woundie founded the Corny Jokes Club (Oh, god, you have no idea what dorkiness looks like until you’ve seen our 13 year old asses in action):


Bex circa 1993.

The Corny Jokes Club consisted of any equally geeky friends and a horrible death concoction made by skimming the top off of the contents of every liquor bottle in the parents' cabinets and chasing it with Snapple, of all foul things. Bex still cannot drink Snapple to this day.


Bex circa 2008.

Woundie and Bex would have stacks of stupid joke books and force themselves to sit and read them to each other until they became funny. Now, these jokes were unsurpassingly dumb. It always seemed impossible at first, but Bex would like to challenge any sourpuss to try it sometime. If it goes on long enough you will always succumb to pants-peeing, gasping laughter. The worse the jokes the better the belly laugh.
Woundie circa 1994.


Step Four: Tell the joke.
This is hard part for Bex, whose talent for botching jokes is simply unsurpassed.
Here's the proof.

If not for this insurmountable character flaw she would have grandly tried this task with The Aristocrats. But not wishing to simultaneously embarrass herself and horrify her mother, she consulted with YellowBear beforehand to try to get some fresh jokes. And eventually told this one as best she could.

Bex and Woundie carry the memory of the stupidest jokes of all time that tipped the scales from giggling to gripping your stomach and convulsing in tears of laughter back in 1993.
Here Woundie delivers the biggest offender to dear CJ, but being 7 feet tall, he was neither sufficiently inebriated nor warmed to the joy of the dumb joke.



Step Five: Induce a joke from the Stranger.

Our new friend didn’t seem to get the odd, nerdy girls going on about dumb, clean jokes, but he put in good effort.
But CJ simply could not think of a joke. At first Woundie tried to teach him one (What sits at the bottom of the ocean and shivers?) But he couldn't do it, and eventually came up with this.

The evening quickly devolved from here when our heroines ran into someone they hadn’t seen since 8th grade and challenged him and all his cohorts to a test of speed…