The Content Jedi Blog

Here and there, I write about stuff that annoys me, and I believe I speak for many others, too.

None of these terms and phrases are said to inflict agita. In fact, in my experience, everyone who’s used them when talking to me has only come from a good place.

But because I’m 50 and officially on the AARP mailing list, I’ve earned the right to be more unfiltered and feel comfortable telling you to stop saying these three things without regard for your feelings.

1. “Here’s a Funny Story”

Uh huh.

You’re telling me—and you’ve already predetermined—that what you’re about to say is funny.

Two mistakes here:
1) I decide what’s funny, and I can’t make that decision until I hear your “funny” story.

2) This could backfire. What you think is so Goddamn hysterical has a good chance of falling flat. Then you’ll wallow in embarrassment and feel small.

This is a high-risk, low-reward situation, and one you shouldn’t put yourself in.

Since I’m a magnanimous guy, I intervene. I will attempt to save you from yourself by interrupting with the warning, “Before you continue, know that I may not find your story funny, and moving forward, just say that you have a story to tell. Remove “funny” like an ingrown hair.”

2. “Everything Good?”

If you appear glum, then this is acceptable.

As a general small talk greeting, it is not. In what world is everything good with someone?

On my best days, my feet hurt, Greta Thunberg’s farbissina punim appears on my X and Instagram feeds, and unattended laundry baskets consume my periphery.

When someone asks me, “Everything good?” I say, “No.”  

Oh, the look of concern on their face! How could there not be uninterrupted goodness in my life?

Previously, I’d just say, “Yep,” because I didn’t want to disappoint them.

But not now.

“Some things are good, some things aren’t,” I respond. “It’s impossible for everything to be good. You can’t have good without the bad. That’s just a reality. I still love you.”

3. “Live Everyday Like it’s Your Last”

This comes across either as a mafia threat or a bastardized carpe diem.

I’ve heard people say this with such conviction that I felt envious and almost believed them.

I wanted to try it out, but when I checked my calendar, there were no openings to schedule it. I couldn’t live Tuesday like it was my last day because of a 9am cavity-filling. Wednesday was parent/teacher conferences. Thursday wouldn't work because we had stuff planned on the weekend, and I like my weekends.

When I mapped out what my last day would look like, all I could see was me in hospice with a morphine drip. That actually sounds pretty good.

Despite my rules, I’m very easy to talk to. Just ask me.

About the Author, David Telisman

I am a Writer and Content Creator, and I work with businesses to inspire their customers to buy from them. I believe that my clients deserve to feel proud of how their content marketing looks and what it says, and I deliver by providing expert copywriting and marketing solutions.

Subscribe to our blog and YouTube channel, and follow us on Facebook and LinkedIn.