Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Joke Of Tthe Day

From my Brother In Law...

A fellow was getting ready to tee off on the first hole when a second golfer approached and asked if he could join him. The first golfer said that he usually played alone, but agreed to the twosome.

After two holes they were even. The second guy said, "We're about evenly matched. How about playing for five bucks a hole?"

The first fellow said that he wasn't much for betting, but agreed to the terms. The second guy then won the remaining sixteen holes with ease.

As they were walking off number eighteen and while counting his $80, the second guy confessed that he was the pro at a neighboring course and liked to pick on suckers.

The first fellow revealed that he was the preacher at the First Baptist Church.

The golf pro got all flustered and apologetic, offering to return the money.

The Preacher said, "No, you won fair and square and I was foolish to bet with you. Keep your winnings."

The pro said, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

The Preacher answered, "Well, you could come to Services on Sunday and make a donation. And if you want to bring your mother and father along, I'll marry them."


Thursday, April 10, 2008

The Inevitable

Sometimes you just see something coming...


Tuesday, April 08, 2008

I Took The Challenge

Last week Edge issued a challenge and I took him up on it.

Seven days of Commando.

My report: not bad. On the plus side there's less time getting dressed (one less thing to worry about), less laundry. On the downside I didn't really like working out commando...too many thing left up in the air (except bike riding which is done commando anyway when you wear cycling shorts)

Oh...by the way, Jeff, I even went commando to church. I don't have the same worry you do, not being on the stage.


Friday, April 04, 2008

Why Women Are the Way They Are

Received this from my Beautiful Wife...this explains so much...

We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old, only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we get bloated, we get cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.

Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a whole watermelon and we peed our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.

Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push" (more like 10), warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %$#*@*#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.

Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?

When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.

So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause years", the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks...

So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the "weaker sex?" Yeah right. Bite me.

...Don't mince words, dear, tell me what you REALLY think...