
I love Jellyfish!
As long as they’re not swimming near me…
I just read a story about someone’s workday completely ruined by one of these gelatinous freaks of nature…and I couldn’t keep it to myself.
How selfish would it be if I didn’t share someone else’s misery with you guys?
Trust me. It’s hilarious!
Remember…if you think you’re having a rough time at the office…at least it’s jellyfish free:
April 1998
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you’ve been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it’s not so bad after all.Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It’s a wetsuit.
This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of crap sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temp. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose which is taped to the air hose.
Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I’ve used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is I take the hose and stuff it down the back of my neck. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It’s like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything is going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds, my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony, I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit.
This is even worse than the poison ivy you once had under a cast. Now I had that hose down my back. I don’t have any hair on my back, so the jellyfish couldn’t get stuck to my back. My butt crack was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into my butt.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the comms. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with 5 other divers, was laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I aborted the dive.
I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling 35 minutes before I could come to the surface for my chamber dry decompression. I got to the surface wearing nothing but my brass helmet. My suit and gear were tied to the bell.
When I got on board the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt when I got into the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn’t poop for two days because my butthole was swollen shut.
…Now repeat to yourself: “I love my job. I love my job. I love my job”
Unfortunately, I doubt that this story is actually true. I don’t have any hair on my arm…and I can tell you first-hand that jellyfish don’t need hair to stick to you: The millions of harpoon barbs covering their tentacles do just fine exploding into your skin, and they can stick to just about anything…
but there really is no harm in laughing at a good story.
Haaaaaaaaaaaa


November 12th, 2009
Seafoodpuncher
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They’re coming.

I would like to take a moment to reminisce about the time my house was broken into…REPEATEDLY.
On a side note, I told my roommate to put the bag of rice on top of something. I checked in on her the next day and yes, the rice was in fact, on top of something…a cardboard box…a FOLDED cardboard box…meaning that the rice was about half a millimeter off the floor…and I’m being generous here. So now the rice-buffet was literally being served on a cardboard platter. Are you kidding me???
People were pretty hairy back then, and the oblivious crab louse hitching a ride probably didn’t really know the difference between prehistoric humans and gorillas. Later on, as humans began losing their hair, the poor crab lice were forced to keep moving south as their habitats became smaller and smaller.

Few people knew that the sharp spiral horns carefully placed in shop windows were actually narwhal tusks shipped over from the Arctic, and that the lumbering, hairy unicorns described by Marco Polo were really just rhinos. 






