I went to my second Toastmasters meeting yesterday (not an organization of cooks who have mastered the art of making toast but, rather, speakers who are learning to master the art of making toasts). It was a smaller group this visit than my first and, again, nobody had a prepared speech. Still,
I met two new faces and I officially joined the group (under a fictitious name, of course).
One of the fun things that Toastmasters meetings do is give members random topics that they need to stand up in front of the group and answer in a one to two minute timeframe. I did my first talking topic yesterday and did pretty well, judging from the audience reaction I received. (Of course they enjoyed my speech. My answer involved ice cream. Everyone likes ice cream!)
One other fun thing Toastmasters meetings involve is that there is a Joke Master of the day. Our Joke Master, yesterday, was a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman with absolutely stunning hair. Her hair was so lovely that if I had not been sitting beside her, I would likely have spent the whole meeting staring at the perfectly laid, tawny curls cascading over her shoulders.
The joke told by our Joke Master was pretty funny and mildly religious, so when I got home from the meeting I called my mother to share it. We chatter for a few minutes and then I began.
In a small town not too far from here, there lived two boys named Tommy and Robbie. Now these boys were quite mischievous. Wherever there was trouble in town, you could bet they were in the middle of it. If they weren't in the middle of it, then they still needed to explain what they were doing instead of being in the center of the trouble. Their poor mother tried every form of discipline, but nothing worked. She did not know what to do with them. But one day a new preacher came to town and he was rumored to be very good with children. So the mother asked the preacher if he would talk to her boys and he agreed to see them seperately. The net day, she sent Tommy to talk to the preacher first. He went in and sat down in a chair in the preacher's office. The preacher introduced himself and then got to business. He asked, "Tommy, where is God?"
This is about how far I got before my mother burst into laughter.
Only two thirds of the way through the joke, I asked, "What?"
"I think I just got the punch line," she answered, "But go ahead. Maybe I'm wrong. Finish the story."
"No. I'm not going to finish the story if you already know the punch line. What do you think it is?"
She fed it to me almost word for word.
On the other end of the telephone line, I grimmaced. Go figure that my mom would figure out my punch line before I could even deliver it. But, just as quickly as disappointment touched my heart, I realized something that perked me up.
"I'm sorry I ruined your joke," Mom said. Her tone was really apologetic and I could tell she felt bad for spoiling the joke. I decided to let her in on my realization.
"Don't worry about it," I answered. "This way, I got you to laugh in fewer words and without having to worry about botching the punch line. As far as I'm concerned, it is a win-win."
I met two new faces and I officially joined the group (under a fictitious name, of course).
One of the fun things that Toastmasters meetings do is give members random topics that they need to stand up in front of the group and answer in a one to two minute timeframe. I did my first talking topic yesterday and did pretty well, judging from the audience reaction I received. (Of course they enjoyed my speech. My answer involved ice cream. Everyone likes ice cream!)
One other fun thing Toastmasters meetings involve is that there is a Joke Master of the day. Our Joke Master, yesterday, was a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman with absolutely stunning hair. Her hair was so lovely that if I had not been sitting beside her, I would likely have spent the whole meeting staring at the perfectly laid, tawny curls cascading over her shoulders.
The joke told by our Joke Master was pretty funny and mildly religious, so when I got home from the meeting I called my mother to share it. We chatter for a few minutes and then I began.
In a small town not too far from here, there lived two boys named Tommy and Robbie. Now these boys were quite mischievous. Wherever there was trouble in town, you could bet they were in the middle of it. If they weren't in the middle of it, then they still needed to explain what they were doing instead of being in the center of the trouble. Their poor mother tried every form of discipline, but nothing worked. She did not know what to do with them. But one day a new preacher came to town and he was rumored to be very good with children. So the mother asked the preacher if he would talk to her boys and he agreed to see them seperately. The net day, she sent Tommy to talk to the preacher first. He went in and sat down in a chair in the preacher's office. The preacher introduced himself and then got to business. He asked, "Tommy, where is God?"
This is about how far I got before my mother burst into laughter.
Only two thirds of the way through the joke, I asked, "What?"
"I think I just got the punch line," she answered, "But go ahead. Maybe I'm wrong. Finish the story."
"No. I'm not going to finish the story if you already know the punch line. What do you think it is?"
She fed it to me almost word for word.
On the other end of the telephone line, I grimmaced. Go figure that my mom would figure out my punch line before I could even deliver it. But, just as quickly as disappointment touched my heart, I realized something that perked me up.
"I'm sorry I ruined your joke," Mom said. Her tone was really apologetic and I could tell she felt bad for spoiling the joke. I decided to let her in on my realization.
"Don't worry about it," I answered. "This way, I got you to laugh in fewer words and without having to worry about botching the punch line. As far as I'm concerned, it is a win-win."
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