Posted on 05/26/2006 6:37:40 AM PDT by sully777
Memorial Day Weekend Silliness Thread

A post from another board I frequent
Last night, I was posting a blog on Myspace while munching on some crackers with peanut butter spread over them. After I decide it all looks okay and post it, I think to myself "Self, what washes down peanut butter perfectly?" Of course, it's milk. Milk is perfect with peanut butter. So I tromp off to the fridge to get some milk.
I'm a guy. Being a guy, it means that after the sun goes down and everyone else is in bed, the carton is my glass. Some of you women may think your husband/significant other has been trained not to do this. You would be wrong to asume that. He does it. You're just not looking when he does. It's something that's embedded in the corner of the Y chromosome, right next to the burp and fart genes.
I learned 3 valuable lessons last night.
1. Using glassware instead of the carton does have value beyond not getting yelled at by your S.O.
2. Despite what scientists tell you, the singal travels faster along some nerves than others.
3. There *is* a difference in the brand of paper towels you buy.
I suppose I should explain. People rarely learn from the mistakes of others, but if I hope to have anyone get something out of this, it should be a little less cryptic than tossing out 3 obscure life lessons and leaving it at that.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Blog done, peanut butter crackers done, carton of milk. I reach down, pick up the carton of milk and take a healthy slug. This is where lesson #1 and lesson #2 make themselves readily apparent. You see, while I know the touch and taste nerves should reach my brain at exactly the same time, or at least at an interval too small to be consciously noticeable, I swear to GOD I can feel the chunks in my mouth a split second before my tastebuds catch onto the fetid, rotting flavor of spent milk and start exploding like so many tiny land mines dotted over the landscape of my tonuge. Just typing this is giving me nasty flashbacks and I just know I can still taste this right now. I had managed to go 38+ years without this particular experience, but now my rotten milk virginity is gone.
Fortunately, I'm standing right next to the sink, which catches most of the spewing fetid curdled mess. I reach to my right and grab a paper towel and start scrubbing my tongue with it. I've seen a considerable number of those commercials for Brawny paper towels. You know the ones, where they put 50 lbs of buckshot or some such crap on two wet paper towels. Of course, since Brawny paid the bill, the Brawny one holds up while the other guy's paper towel turns into goo. I've always thought "look, man, I'm not going to be towing my car or making a paper towel rope to escape from prison with these things" and bought the cheap generic ones. Oh, foolish mortal! As I'm scrubbing my tongue, the paper towel is disintegrating. As it disintegrates, it's pilling up into these little soggy wet balls that are exactly the same size and consistency of the chunks of milk I just spewed into the sink!
Sheila, my fiance, my love, you win. You're right and, even after you go to bed, I will now pour liquids into a glass before imbibing. Oh, and by the way, I'm going to be a few minutes late getting home from work. I need to stop at the store and pick up some Brawny paper towels.
Thought I would check in. Getting off work in fifteen minutes, taking the family (and boat) to Solomons Island, MD for a weekend of camping, boating, and fishing with some friends from DC area. Enjoy the silliness, and everybody have a great weekend.
Remember to have a moment of silence Monday in remembrance of those who gave their lives for our freedom.
See the tagline.
P.S. It's also John Wayne's birthday.
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Hunting Flies" He responded.
"Oh. Killing any?" She asked.
"Yep, 3 males, 6 Females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked. "How can you tell them apart?"
He responded, "3 were on a beer can, 6 were on the phone."
LOL!
Where DID you find that!?
Why females should avoid a girl's night out after they are married:
The other night I was invited for a night out with "the girls". I told my husband that I would be home by midnight "I promise!". Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckoo-ed 3 times. Quickly, realizing that my husband would probably wake up, I cuckoo-ed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when totally smashed) in order to avoid a possible conflict with him. The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him "midnight". He didn't seem pissed off at all. Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said "We need a new cuckoo clock". When I asked him why he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckoo-ed 3 times, then said 'Oh. Dam.', then cuckoo-ed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckoo-ed another 3 times, giggled, cuckoo-ed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.".
We used to have a saying at the dealership about these. "One thing about the DROP or TROUBLE lights, if you ever drop one, you will have trouble with them forever."
They also have a tendency to cause instant second or third degree burns on a sweaty arm.
I'm still LOL at this description - "it's main purpose is to consume 40-watt light bulbs at about the same rate that 105-mm howitzer shells might be used during, say, the first few hours of the Battle of the Bulge. More often dark than light, its name is somewhat misleading."
Hard core Pawn.
(Source: MARTY)
They will consume 40 watt bulbs at a high rate, especially if dropped. I normally use 60 or 75 watt bulbs, as at least I can see what I need to see.
We used to get 100 watt, heavy duty bulbs that were not supposed to burn up as easily, even if the light was dropped. The first time a light hit the floor, it looked like a camera flash.
Will the real bride please stand up!
Two women came before wise King Solomon, dragging between them a young man.
"This young man agreed to marry my daughter," said one.
"No! He agreed to marry MY daughter," said the other.
And so they began arguing until the King called for silence.
"Bring me my biggest sword," said Solomon, "and I shall hew the young man in half. Each of you shall receive a half."
"Sounds good to me," said the first lady.
But the other woman said, "Oh Sire, do not spill innocent blood. Let the other woman's daughter marry him."
The wise king did not hesitate a moment. "The man must marry the first woman's daughter," he proclaimed.
"But she was willing to hew him in two!" exclaimed the king's court.
"Indeed," said wise King Solomon. "That shows she is the TRUE mother-in-law."

The woman asks, Would you like a Christian or a Muslim doll?
Confused, the man says Whats the difference?
Well replies the woman, the Muslim one blows itself up.
Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy "Will you marry me?" The guy said, "No" and the girl lived happily ever after. She went shopping, dancing, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, stayed skinny and farted whenever she wanted.
The End
Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the urgent call.
The house was very, very dark, so the paramedic ask Kathleen, a 3-year-old girl, to hold a flashlight high over her Mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently, Kathleen did as she was asked.
Heidi pushed and pushed, and after a little while Connor was born.
The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry.
The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year old what she thought about what she had just witnessed.
Kathleen quickly responded, "He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place......... smack his ass again!"
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