Mawwage. Mawwage is what bwings us togethew today.
Mawwage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam within a dweam.
And wove, twue wove, wiww fowwow you fowevah-- So tweasuwe youw wove --
Posted on 10/03/2008 6:05:20 AM PDT by Lucky9teen
Hot diggity dog!!!!!!! Woooooooooohooooooooo! It’s FRIDAY!!!
Time for silliness! The subject of the week....Marriage! Tada!
A classic:
“Handling A Wife”
It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there’s nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.
My name is Jeff. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Susie.
Since I retired several years ago, it has become necessary for Susie to get a full-time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed.
Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work.
Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don’ t yell at her.
Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men’s Grill at the club so
eating out is not reasonable. I’m ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.
She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it’s not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do
what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won’t clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.
Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during
her lunch hour. But, boys, we take ‘em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even
three days. That way she won’t have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn’t hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.
When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I’m a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too.
I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Susie. I’m not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find
it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older.
However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it
was well worthwhile. After all, we are put o n this earth to help each other.
Sincerely, Jeff
EDITOR’S NOTE:
Jeff died suddenly on March 1 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II
golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing and a sledge hammer laying nearby.
His wife Susie was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 15 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that
Jeff somehow, without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club.
Happy anniversary!
Much silliness is needed today as I just found out a promotion went through for me!
YAY!
If Babs really said that, then that’s the first thing I’ve ever heard (or read) her say, that I’ve agreed with.
We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001 from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you, who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10 year old child about whom you know nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.
Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me.
Lest you think this is a bad case of ‘no discipline,’ I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200.
Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time.
I was assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.
I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment.
I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wed evening to reheat Thurs am. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for a few hours. Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven.
It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.
I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few second s of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night.
God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.
We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction.
He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence.
His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk..
He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day.
My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.
Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead i f I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, ‘what goes in must come out’ and Jasper was no exception.
Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house.
Having discovered his ‘packages’ on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.
This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.
We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house.
I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.
It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to: ‘How to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.’
And how was your day?
Video: Obama Kid song reminds me of something
Youtube ^ | 10/3/08
Posted on Fri Oct 3 03:37:21 2008 by april15Bendovr
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/news/2096451/posts?page=2
So the guy quickly jumped out of the bed, scared and naked he jumped out the window like a crazy man. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and then started to run as fast as he could to his car.
A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, “I am your husband!”
The woman yelled back, “Yeah, then why were you running?”
And that folks............is how the fight started.
The husband was quite happy to be pampered in this manner, so he lay in the tub, and called out for his wife to bring him his drink.
She said: If there's anything else I can do for you dear, just call for it, and I'll be happy to bring it up to you.
As soon as he heard her reach the bottom of the stairs, he let out a long, burbly bathtub fart, which produced enough stink filled bubbles to fog up the entire bathroom.
Moments later, his wife enters the room with a hot water bottle.
The confused husband looks up and says: What on earth gave you the idea that I needed a hot water bottle?
She answers: Didn't you just say, "Whataboutahottawaterbottle?"
Now for my own contribution: 
Organic, all natural footwarmer.
or, Leave me alone, mama. I'm trying to nap.
... I've got nothing... At least Faelan here's cute.
Barry had contact with Communists in his younger years, and continued the relationship. John had contact with Communists for 5 1/2 years as a young man and has a much different impression.
That...officially creeped me out. Thank you for ruining my childhood.
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