Posted on 01/05/2006 9:30:01 AM PST by najida
Oh hun,
That's a sad story.
But what is it with guys, water and electricity?
The stories najida tells are hilarious and nail biting, all at the same time.
najida, tell the one about the first time you tried to use your gas starter on your fireplace.
That's a good one, too.
Oh,
My family is a laugh a minute when we're all speaking to each other ;)
Very enjoyable. Thanks.
But God knows how long the crazy bastard could have lived. He was something else.
Would sit on his porch, playing a fiddle he made himself, with the few fingers he had left. He was a character.
Sounds like a Jeff Foxworthy story!!!!
ROTFLMAO!!!!
"You might be a redneck if..."
Someday when I have a lot of extra time, I'll tell you a Christms Eve story you won't believe about me, my Mom, a couple of cooked turkeys, and a pack of wild dogs. It wasn't too funny at the tme, but a real hoot to look back on with tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.
Loved the story, najida!
Been there ~ done that. ;)
Thanks for the ping Biker Chick!
FUNNIEST CHRISTMAS STORY
This article was submitted to a 1999 Louisville Sentinel contest to find
out who had the wildest Christmas dinner. The following won first prize.
Christmas with Louise
As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace
before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they
say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas
morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowing, his poor pantyhose
hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went
in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Walmart.
I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-
rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour
saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would
buy that?"
Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted tobuy a standard,
uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so
I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do
things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry.
I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning
hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose
with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank
what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home and giggled
for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house
and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog
confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some
more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest
of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional
Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the
hell is that?" she asked.
My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped.
I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her
into the dining room, but Granny was relentless.
"Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why
would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the
ambulance saying, "Hang on, Granny, hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me
and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by
the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting.
It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at
home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died,
who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a
noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning.
Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and
fell in a heap in front of the sofa.
The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and grandpa
ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to
mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his
pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat
in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later, in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to
determine the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had
suffered from a hot ember from the fireplace to the back of her right
thigh.
Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her
To perfect health.
Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies.
I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
Hilarious!! Thanks for sharing.
I guess that's my version of what happened to my brother.....
OK, to start with,
I don't have a sense of smell. Genetic anomsia is the technical name. You could put a corpse under my house or a skunk under my bed and I'd never know. And with my housekeeping skills...I really would NEVER know.
However, I love gas appliances and I adore fireplaces. So when I built my house, I put in two vent free fireplaces, a gas range, dryer and hot water heater. Some folks sky dive. I cook with gas :)
Plus I bought several gas detectors because I knew I couldn't smell a gas leak. I was set. I thought.
Anyhow, the first chill hits in the fall and I get home from work all excited that I can now use my fireplace. Now, understand, I have read the starting instructions at least a dozen times. The fireplace has one of those self-starting pilots (you know, one of those clicking things) and the directions are very clear that if the pilot doesn't light....
AND
If you smell gas, TURN IT OFF!
It also states that you can see the pilot when it is lit on the right, back side of the fireplace.
Again,
if the pilot doesn't light..
If you smell gas, TURN IT OFF!
Hmmmm, so I make sure a gas detector is plugged in next to the fireplace.
I re-read the instructions on both lighting the pilot and TURNING OFF the fireplace.
I move the logs around so I can see clearly, the back, RIGHT side of the fireplace.
I turn on the gas and click the pilot starter.
I hear this rumbling whoooossssh sound but I don't see a flame. The whoosh is pretty pronounced and I can imagine that gas is just flowing into my house. I look at the detector.
Nothing.
Then I remember I bought it on Ebay!
USED!
I AM DOOMED!
And I'm about to blow up my brand new house!
I try to turn the pilot off and I can't. Something about push in and then turn. Well, it won't TURN.
So I run around throwing open all the doors and windows. Throw the birds back in the aviary, shoo the dogs out the door.....
I find the phone and call Grumpy Bachelor Brother. It's late and he's fully into his self-medication. He also thinks I'm a hazard to humanity so I really try not to ask him for help....but I'm about to blow my world up, so I don't give a rats-patootie. Oh yeah, and he's always given me a hard time about not being able to smell. He would stick stuff under my nose saying "I KNOW you can smell this!"
And all I could say "doesn't it smell good or bad?"
Anyhow, I'm on the phone with him, throwing open more windows and I mutter something about fireplace, can't see pilot light, whooossshing sound, blowing up house.
Before I can hang up the phone, here he comes in his duely pickup truck, whipping into my front yard, making a rolling stop leaving the engine running as he leaps out to my front steps.....long neck beer in hand.
He stops and sniffs and looks around saying "I don't smell gas!'
OK, at this point, every door and window in the place is open it feels like a wind tunnel in Antarctica. So maybe the gas molecules are too dispersed to smell. I don't know. I just what it OFF!
He goes over to my fireplace, kneels down, looks and states "Your pilot is lit". He then moves a log on the LEFT side of the fireplace over and points to my LIT pilot.
Note, it's on the LEFT hand side. Not right, but LEFT! That whoosh is a full blown flame. He turns my fireplace to high, then shows me how to turn it to low and then to just pilot. After that, he turns around, walks out, jumps in his truck and is gone.
Who was that beer carrying man?
Anyhow, I sit there and spend the next 20 minutes mastering turning it from high, to low and finally master turning it OFF (seems you turn and THEN press in, not the other way around). THEN I close all the doors and windows, round up the dogs- including Hairy Houdini who has found his way into a neighbor's dog-yard....seems his female purebred was in heat.
Anyhow, I gained several things out of that evening...... I can now operate my fireplace like a pro, my brother now really understands that I can't smell and I met some new people in my pajamas down the road while trying to get my mutt away from their girl :)
How they got my pajamas I'll never know.
Funny story, thanks for the vanity!
You should start writing for a living.
I too am without fear and too much beer!!!
Is that too much beer or without too much beer, because the second one would be sad.
I have no fear, and I have too much beer!!!!
That's great...LOL :)
No,
I went down to the Swamp Fox for a moonpie and a RC cola ;)
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