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It’s late January and while some of us are busy dealing with the “shocking” realization that we just don’t have the willpower to go through with our New Year’s resolutions, the rest of us are preparing the way for another year of mediocrity and disappointment. Of course that year doesn’t officially begin until Groundhog Day, the most mediocre holiday since Penguin Awareness Day (That’s real! Look it up!). It’s a holiday that even its official mascot says is stupid and outdated. Call 781-452-0837 to hear why now.

But why is it such a stupid holiday? Maybe because we just don’t recognize the modern day significance of the groundhog. You may not know this, but the groundhog is an animal that has been revered through time. The ancient Babylonians believed it could ward away evil spirits with a sideways glance from just one of those beady little eyes. It was a symbol of good luck and prosperity and its poop was used in all of the most popular dishes. In ancient Babylon there were entire restaurants dedicated to groundhog poop.  You think Arby’s is a new concept? Nope. Thank the ancient Babylonians. The ancient Greeks after them believed the groundhog was possessed of magical powers that would cure people of their diseases and insanity. They were often kept in homes as pets and when they died, they were drained of their bodily fluids and placed above the doorframes in order to keep everyone in the household in good health. Of course nowadays, with all our advanced science and technology, we know better. A groundhog can cure my cold about as well as he can get rid of the poltergeist in my bathroom that haunts that area under the sink that no one really uses. Yes, we in the modern world know what the groundhog is really good for: predicting the weather. With just a peek at its shadow, the groundhog has the ability to keep us drinking hot cocoa and wearing Uggs (they’re not just for girls, Dad!) for several weeks longer than we would have otherwise expected. Hold on to your ass, Al Roker. Punxatawney Phil is gunning for your f***ing job and he doesn’t need a blue screen, some fancy degree from a meteorology school, OR stomach staples. Just give him a flat surface and a floor lamp and BAM! He’s gonna predict the hell out of that weather! I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though the holiday itself might be lame, the almost magical ability of the groundhog to accurately predict our weather is something that we should give more attention. And the groundhog’s powers may not stop at predicting the weather. I have a theory that they can control it, too. Think about it! Groundhogs can put an end to global warming with just the power of their shadows! We need more groundhog presence. Pulling one out of a hole once a year is just not enough. We need a groundhog president right now! And if you’re still not fully convinced of that, you need to call 781-452-0837. Listen to him. His wisdom is infinite. Punxatawney Phil in 2012, baby! Let’s put a groundhog in the White House!

Until the effects of this groundhog poop burrito wear off,

DeVon

SantaClaus. What more can I say about this gift-giving night rider? This champion of charity, this toy-toting Titan, this chubby-chasing cookie fiend and potential peeping Tom? You know his name; you know his address; and now, thanks to us, you can know his cell phone number. That’s right, kids. Just call 772-257-4060 to hear a special recorded message from one of the world’s most famous fat men, second only to John Candy. From “Uncle Buck?” What do you mean you haven't seen it? How old are you?! Seven??

Anyway, Santa has been having a tough couple of years. You may not know this, but jolly old St. Nick was very heavily invested in Enron so his toy shop has come very close to shipping out its last Tickle-me Elmo. And we won’t even talk about the tax evasion and stalking investigations (but seriously, how else do you think he sees you when you're sleeping?). Why do you think he lives up at the North Pole in international territory? For the scenery? You didn’t hear this from me, but don’t be surprised if Santa has to make a few changes to the way he does things this Christmas. It may not be wise of him to show himself in public right now, but don’t worry, kids. You’ll still get all the video games, mp3 players, and snuggies you can handle. Santa may be down, but he’s never out.

Whip out your phones and start dialing today if you want to make sure you get through in time. Santa is a busy man and probably won’t have time to return your calls. Ever. Seriously, his voicemail system is a black hole. But that doesn’t mean he won’t listen. And who knows, you just may end up with that Red Ryder BB Gun you’ve been having wet dreams about since you were a 7-year-old boy watching classic Christmas movies with excessive narration on your grandparents’ cathode ray tube television.

Until I shoot my eye out,

DeVon

Merry Christmahanukwanzaakah, everyone! I know there are lots of different people of different cultures and faiths in this country, so I want to try to be as inclusive of all of you as possible. December is a very festive time of year where we all come together in a multicultural display of holiday cheer and humanity! But, let’s not kid ourselves, America. We all know who the real winter-time gift-giving holiday winner is, don’t we? Sure, those other holidays have their virtues, but how many shopping malls are blaring the Dreidel Song in the middle of December? Malls that don’t have a Long Island zip code, that is.  And how much do you actually know about Kwanzaa? I mean, really? Is there a tree or something? I’ve been African American for 24 years (I was actually black for about three of those years) andI still have to Google the dates!

Anyway, we all know that Christmas is the star of the holiday season whether we admit it or not. You can gather all the dreidels and menorahs and Kwanzaa…candles (seriously, I know NOTHING about this holiday! WTF!) that you want, but you are NOT taking on Christmas. This isn’t even about religion. It’s pure, unadulterated, greed-fueled capitalism. And that beats everything. Especially religion. Imagine you were playing a friendly game of Rock, Paper, Nuclear Bomb with a friend. Christmas capitalism would be nuclear bomb. Nothing beats it. The only way to win is to keep using nuclear bomb on each other until one of you loses consciousness from sleep deprivation or stupidity.

If you think about it, it doesn’t make much sense: Hanukkah is eight straight days of gifts. Kwanzaa…well, let’s say it has eight, too. Who really knows? But Christmas is just ONE day. ONE DAY! Those other holidays should be EIGHT TIMES better (if I did my math right, that is)! But they’re not! Why? Because, unlike those other wannabes, Christmas has been whored out like a 15-year-old ladyboy from Thailand (It’s true! Look it up!). What was once a one day Christian celebration has become a jolly, month-long orgy by hundreds of godless corporations trying to milk your money tits the second you put down that turkey leg. And this is why Christmas pwns: sponsorship. Maybe if Hanukkah could get an endorsement from someone other than Adam Sandler, we’d be waiting for Hanukkah Harry (772-257-4489) to slide down our chimneys this season. But I wouldn't hold my breath.

Until I meet an angry Kwanzaa celebrant,

DeVon

Ever since I got my own place and stopped squatting in public libraries and foreclosed properties, I’ve realized that there are a lot more freeloaders out there than you may have realized. They show up mostly uninvited and at all hours of the day and night to feed off the smorgasbord of resources in your home until they’ve been completely used up. Then these leeches, fattened by the generosity of their hosts, fall off and aren’t heard from again until they need to drain more resources. I’m not bitter or anything, just trying to warn you, John and Jane Q. Public, about the growing problem of freeloaders. Because if you’re not careful, you’ll end up with some overweight, musician-wannabe slob eating your chocodiles, warming your couch with his silent-but-deadlies, and clogging your shower drain with clumps of back hair so thick it looks like Cousin It and Chewbacca made nasty animal love in your bathroom.

Freeloaders come in many forms; they can be relatives, best friends, significant others, or favorite f**k buddies. They can spend all day on the couch watching TV and playing video games or they can simply hang around eating your food and enjoying your indoor plumbing. They might also make frequent calls to Howto Keep an Idiot Entertained because they’re too dumb to get the joke the first time. A freeloader can be anything or anyone, but there is certainly one thing that they are not: welcomed. If you happen to be the target of a freeloader, it may be difficult for you to identify freeloader behavior, so it will be important to listen to the “objective” opinions of roommates, friends,or significant others that aren’t currently mooching off you.

Properly identifying a freeloader requires a complicated, scientific mathematical formula that I made up five seconds before writing this paragraph. First, count the number of bags that the alleged freeloader has on his or her person when first moving into your place. Let’s call this number “U.” Next, we’ll multiply U by the number of days your freeloader first says they’ll be staying with you. This number is “R^A.” We will now divide the product of UR^A by the product of the amount of your food in ounces that has been consumed without permission (B), and the product of the amounts of time (U) and energy (M) that you have had to sacrifice in order to deal with this “houseguest.” Your equation should look like this: UR^A /B(UM)

If you work out this equation and end up with a non-imaginary number, then you have just figured out that your friend/relative/f**k buddy is a freeloader.

By the way, Chad, if you’re reading this, I want you to know this is not about you. I’m totally cool with you crashing at my place until your music career takes off. I think there’s a huge market for DJs who blend house and polka. I just need you to stop eating my chocodiles. Seriously, dude. They’re really hard to find.

Until next time (or until I figure out how to do math),

DeVon

There are a lot of rumors floating around the internet about our Marijuana Legalization hotline numbers so I’m going to take some time out of my busy schedule of making wry jokes about life, love, and the pursuit of money in order to give you a few straight facts about how this works.

1)We do not actively collect information about your phone number, name, address, blood type, or side of the bed you like to sleep on unless you give that information to us. Yes, phone numbers may pass through our system as we receive calls, but they are rarely, if ever, seen by human eyes and they NEVER leave our servers in any way, shape, or form. We receive thousands of calls per day. There are no names attached to them since we do not have a massive caller ID system.

2)We do not sell information to the government or telemarketers. The government is mostly uninterested in anything we do here so long as we continue to pay our taxes and don’t commit any major felonies. And we’ve pissed away any goodwill we may have had with any telemarketing company with the Telemarketer’s Nightmare (973-474-9051). But seriously, we’re real people, too. We know how annoying telemarketing calls are (hence the above hotline) so we don’t want to put you through that. Heck, we encourage you to use OUR numbers to throw telemarketers off your trail entirely!

3)We are not affiliated with Change.org, NORML, or any other official marijuana advocacy group. We are simply passing along a petition to make sure that the voice of the people is heard. We do not endorse the illegal use of marijuana or any other drug.

4)When you press the pound key to show your support for the legalization of marijuana, you are not submitting your name,number, or GPS coordinates. We only send statistical data based on the numberof calls we receive and the number of people who have pressed pound to endorse the proposal. Nothing about you is sent to the government. Trust me. I’ve had alot of friends call this number and they’ve done a lot of things… But that’snot important.

5)We will never, ever, ever charge you for calling ANY of our numbers. They are all absolutely free to call no matter what you hear. The only charges you may receive are the ones your cell phone company charges you to make a call to anyone. Pressing pound to endorse the legalization of marijuana will NOT cost you anything but the time it takes you to find the pound key. Especially if you’ve been calling it the “number symbol.” Seriously, who decided to start calling it the “pound key?”

6)We do not make outgoing calls to you. Ever. We just don’t have that kind of time or ability. If one of our numbers appears on your caller ID it’s because someone is using call spoofing technology to call you under the guise of one of our numbers. While this is a good trick, it results in us receiving lots of angry calls and letters from lots of people who aren’t very familiar with the 21^st century.

I hope that addresses all the nasty rumors going around about us. We're not bad people. We're just drawn that way.

Until someone else spreads false information on the internet,

DeVon

These are tough times for a fake phone number company. Try giving out the Rejection Hotline number at bars, parties, clubs, or your little sister’s Girl Scouts meeting and you’ll likely run into the paranoid, anal-retentive jerk that absolutely HAS to text or call you immediately to make sure you gave out the right number. So how do you avoid this situation? The point of legitimately using the Rejection Hotline is to let someone down without having to see the pain in their eyes, right? Well, something like that. Anyway, here are a few ways to pull this off without having to do the rejection yourself (you heartless monster).

1)   Forgetfulness. Before your latest stalker begins to dial the ten-digit number you just struggled to remember, warn him or her that you left your phone at home, in the car, or at the foot of an active volcano in the South Pacific and that calling or texting you right now would probably get their number lost in the sea of strange numbers from other “admirers” you’ve just met. Instead, assign this person a specific time slot so you’ll know who’s number has just appeared on your phone. If this excuse is repeated correctly, this person will be so discouraged/disgusted that they probably won’t bother to call you anyway. It’s a win/win situation.

2)   The Broken Phone. You can always say that your phone is broken and that calling it at that specific moment is likely to set off a chain reaction in the circuitry that will cause your cell phone to violently explode in your purse or pocket. Look frightened when you say it. Give your voice a sense of urgency. This doesn’t necessarily have to be an Emmy Award-winning performance, but you should at least get the point across that receiving a call or text from this person is not something you want. Not now. Not ever.

3)   Physical Contact. Odds are good that the person asking for your phone number is doing so because he or she is attracted to you and wants to get to know you. Possibly over a candlelit dinner where neither of you are wearing clothes or having dinner. So in order to effectively stop this person from dialing and discovering the clever, heartbreaking little game you’ve just played with their emotions, you should attempt physical contact. Gently grasp their dialing hand, lower it into both of yours, gaze deeply into their eyes, and, with your powers of hypnosis, ensure them that there is no need to do that. They’ll be so taken aback by the sudden, intimate physical contact that they’ll completely forget what they were doing. And if that doesn’t work, dive in for a quick French kiss (extra tongue) then disappear into the crowd. I suspect you’ll have a good five seconds to get away while they stand there with “WTF?” printed on their face in big, obnoxious letters. This works in every situation. Except when you’re not in a crowd.

4)   Play Dumb. This is a last resort in case you weren’t able to stop someone from dialing in time to make your escape. I realize as I write this point, that many of you probably don’t need me to tell you how to do your job. You’ve been doing this far longer and have become much better at it than I and I yield to your expertise. However, for those of you who were not born with the benefit of a low brain cell count, I will dispense the following advice: pretend you don’t know what’s going on. Then run like hell. Who needs to explain anything? You obviously intend to never speak to this person again, so make a quick, clean getaway. Who cares what they or the handful of people you trample in your escape think? If you did this right, they shouldn’t even know your real name anyway. 

For anyone familiar with our story, it’s no secret that The Original Rejection Hotline (212-660-2245) is the foundation on which HumorHotlines.com has been built. Part of the Rejection Hotline’s appeal is that on the surface it appears to be a real phone number attached to a real area code. After all, lets face it, no one is ever going to call a 1-800 number and expect it to be the girl or guy they met at the bar the night before.

Since 2001, we’ve offered Rejection Hotlines in as many area codes as possible as a free public service to you all. While we can’t claim total coverage, we like to think that we do a pretty good job of providing either a Rejection Hotline for your area code, or one nearby for you to claim as home.

Over the last few months we’ve been bombarded with requests for additional Rejection Hotline area codes. In response to that, we’ve stepped up our coverage in the northeast United States and Florida, bringing you over 20 new Rejection Hotline area codes. While we are far from finished, we’re certainly on our way and wanted to say thanks for all of the requests that have been sent. We’re currently looking to further our coverage in the western United States and Canada, so stay tuned. If we don’t currently have a Rejection Hotline for your area, we recommend picking one that we do have and saying “It’s where I went to school” or “I haven’t changed my cell phone number since I moved.” In the meantime, try calling some of our other Humor Hotlines. Perhaps 267-436-5128 is a good start.

Until next time, have some fun and keep calling,

Michael

Are you one of the unlucky few dealing with the burden ofemployment? Do you need to shed the excess weight of a regular paycheck? Noproblem. I’m here with a few subtle ways to make you suddenly less attractiveto the people who’ve been paying your bills and/or supporting your drug habitall this time. Your parents? No. Pay attention to the damn title.

1. Introduce your boss’ spouse as your lover at the next holiday office party. There are many variations on this one. You can choose instead to refer to him or her by any number of inappropriate terms of endearment: honey, baby, sweetheart, sugar tits, etc. This is most effective if you accompany this with a sly, knowing wink and an elbow nudge. This should help to clear up any ambiguity in case your boss is a complete idiot.
2. Answer the phones by asking callers to verify that they are not FBI agents. Eventually the FBI will call at the request of some freaked out client or whatever and you’ll have the distinction of being the person that hangs up on them and runs from the building with an armload of office supplies.
3. Do you feel a monkey could do your job? Rent one from your local primate dealer and test your theory. Not only will this get you immediately fired, but you may also get the added bonus of watching your simian replacement fling his poop at your coworkers. Everybody wins! Except your sh*t-smattered coworkers.
4. Bring a homeless person to work and offer to shelter them under your desk. Homeless people are a little like children: they enjoy box forts and candy and being exploited by total strangers for profit. If you’re trying to get fired, there’s no reason you can’t be altruistic as well.
5. Refuse to shower. Do I really have to explain this one? Really? Because when you show up to work day after day reeking of B.O. and misery, someone is bound to tell you not to come back. But they’ll probably give you the number to the Body Odor Notification Hotline (631-960-7171) first.
6. Create dolls in the likenesses of your coworkers and hang them from tiny nooses around your work area. As an added bonus to no longer having to go to work everyday, you may also score some free therapy in the process. And who doesn’t love free stuff?
7. Touch yourself inappropriately and file a sexual harassment charge against the company. Make sure you have witnesses, though. These cases rarely hold up in court so you’ll want as many people as possible to see you blatantly molesting yourself on company property.
8. Write a witty blog post about ways you’ve considered getting yourself fired and post it on the company website for all to see. If you’re anyone but me, this a guaranteed no-fail.

Until my meta-blogging jokes get misinterpreted by thehigher-ups,

DeVon

It was a Monday morning. As usual, I was sitting at my cubicle, quietly obsessing over the growth rates of my fingernails. They say that if they don’t grow at the same rate then you’re probably in the beginning stages of carpal tunnel syndrome! At least that’s what I heard from the webpage of my roommate’s best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s cousin who is training to be a vet in Nicaragua. Anyway, I had just finished comparing the fingernails on my ring fingers when I felt a tap on the shoulder. Naturally, I assumed it was the shambling corpse of Ed McMahon come from the grave to award me the million dollar novelty check I’d been expecting since 1995. With a mix of pants-sh*tting terror and gassy anticipation (I really should have gone to the bathroom before I left home), I turned around to stare into the paint-smeared face of Michael, the other Humor Hotlines intern.

“Do you have any Maalox?” I asked.

He flailed his arms in a strange dance that didn’t come close to answering my question.

“That doesn’t come close to answering my question,” I said. I hated charades.

He frowned and pointed to his face which I then noticed was coated in thick white paint, like he’d passed out face first into a bucket of whale sperm after a night of Remy Martin and Quaaludes at Sea World. He continued to flap around as if what he was doing should have been obvious, but I still didn’t get it.

“I still don’t get it,” I told him, going back to measuring my cuticle lengths.

“I’m a mime!” he shouted.

“Then you’re obviously not a very good one because mimes don’t talk,” I told him.

He mumbled a few expletives and something about my not being able to appreciate art and went outside to terrorize passersby with his mute clown routine. Since the Humor Hotlines office is located on the border between the territories of two of the city’s largest street gangs, I didn’t expect him to come back anytime soon. I helped myself to his lunch…and his Macbook.

Half an hour later, the UPS guy comes in with a fist smeared with white paint and a story to tell. But no one really listened to the whole thing. He’s the UPS guy. However, I did manage to catch a few key words while I signed for my Celine Dion boxed set (don’t judge me!): “mime,” “demand,” and“restraining order.” It was like a lightbulb clicked on over my head. And not one of those ridiculous twisty ones that are just as bright as the regular kind but you hate them anyway because those condescending eco-pricks accuse you of going around and beating baby seals with brass knuckles if you still use normal light bulbs. No, this was a good, old-fashioned, public school fluorescent. I immediately ran to my desk and banged out a script for a “Demand a Restraining Order on all Mimes!” hotline and sent it to our creative director and creator of the Original Rejection Hotline, Jeff…who subsequently sent it off to some hotshot L.A. writers who turned it into this: 781-452-2659. The creative process is fascinating isn’t it, folks?

Until I get jumped by a gang of disgruntled mimes,

DeVon