Post by twinpinesmt on May 8, 2006 16:35:46 GMT -5
Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just take the rotten apples from the ground, which aren't as good, but easy to pick. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing.
They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree. Share this with other women who are good apples, even those who have already been picked!
Now Men.... Men are like wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with. Doesn't that just warm your heart.
Post by twinpinesmt on May 10, 2006 17:04:36 GMT -5
WELFARE AND BS
A guy walks into the local welfare office, marches straight up to the counter and says, "Hi... You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job." The social worker behind the counter says, "Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur/bodyguard for his nymphomaniac daughter. You'll have to drive around in his Mercedes, but he'll supply all of your clothes. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll be expected to escort her on her overseas holiday trips. You will have to satisfy her sexual urges. You'll have a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. The starting salary is $200,000 a year." The guy says, "You're bull sh*%in' me!" The social worker says, "Yeah, well, you started it."
Post by twinpinesmt on May 12, 2006 15:39:06 GMT -5
Question: How do you tell the difference between Democrats, Republicans and Southerners?
The answer can be found by posing the following question:
You're walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, an Islamic Terrorist with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, praises Allah, raises the knife, and charges. You are carrying a Glock .40, and you're an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do?
Democrat's Answer: Well, that's not enough information to answer the question! Does the man look poor or oppressed? Have I ever done anything to him hat would inspire him to attack? Could we run away? What does my wife think? What about the kids? Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of is hand? What does the law say about this situation!? Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it? Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does his send to society and to my children? Is it possible he'd be happy with just killing me? Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me? If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me? Should I call 9-1-1? Why is this street so deserted? We need to raise taxes, have a paint and weed day and make this happier, healthier street that would discourage such behavior. This is all so confusing I need to debate this with some friends or few days and try to come to a consensus.
Southerner's Answer: BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click..... (sounds of reloading). BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click Daughter: "Nice grouping, Daddy! Were those the Winchester Silver Tips?"
Post by twinpinesmt on May 14, 2006 18:20:54 GMT -5
Why women are crabby.
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 bloated, we 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 (premarital or not) 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 watermelon whole and we pee'd 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 %*#!* (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb 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 anymore.
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 now we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," 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...
Whille I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
Send this to seven bright women you know and make their day!!! Or at least make them laugh a little.....
Post by rossco4worldchamp on May 15, 2006 19:29:12 GMT -5
Two old ladies are outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it starts to rain. One of the old ladies pulls out a condom, cuts off the end, puts it over her cigarette, and continues smoking.
Maude: What in the hell is that?
Mabel: A condom. This way my cigarette doesn't get wet.
Maude: Where did you get it?
Mabel: You can get them at any drugstore.
The next day, Maude hobbles herself into the local drugstore and announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms.
The pharmacist, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely (she is after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what brand of condom she prefers.
"Doesn't matter Sonny, as long as it fits on a Camel."
Post by twinpinesmt on May 22, 2006 12:44:18 GMT -5
I can save you money on gas!
Alright folks, step right up! You dont want to pay $4.69 for gas, no problem, I have the perfect vehicle for you. Needs no gas, no oil, or even a battery, just a little grass and water will do these animals fine. Now everyone has different needs, so choose from the folowing models:
1. Trail Horse- Your average run around town animal. Has the energy to get where you are going, the brain to find the best way to go, big enough to carry the normal sized American.
2. The Arabian- perfect for those who travel long distances in a day and try to multi task while driving. Although the Arabian may not go to your home or office with out specific instruction, it WILL go somewhere.
3. The Draft- Calling all soccer moms. This big guy can carry the whole team, their gear and snacks. Just like the big machines, this guy will require more fuel, and his shoes will be more expensive than the compact model.
4. The Western Pleasure- The right car for the high end white collar workers. This animal works harder and requires more special knowledge so only the best can figure this out. Be sure to take your cell phone. You wont be stuck in traffic, you just wont be getting anywhere fast.
5. The Parrelli- Salesmen, stay at home moms, and high school kids will all enjoy this dream. You can load him down with flapping wal-mart bags, ask him to walk in places a horse wont fit, and you can dance with him as you listen to the latest tunes.
6. The Ranch- The most dependable animal available. He will go where ever you ask him to, at what ever speed is appropriate. You can tie him to the stop sign and he will be there when you get back. Best of all, this model has been specially engineered to be able to go without water for days and stay fat and slick by eating sagebrush and dead prarie grass.
Of course all models are available in base colors (sorrel, bay, black) Special order colors are available (dun, grey, palomino) and for an additional fee, custom paint jobs are also available (overo, tobiono, blanket, leopard). No horse is sold with a waranty, however maintainence plans are available in the event brakes, steering, or accelerator fail.
Post by twinpinesmt on May 23, 2006 20:51:16 GMT -5
Top 10 Spook List written by "A Horse"
10. Blowing Paper "At any moment it could whip up into our faces, covering our noses. We could suffocate. And don't try to tell us you'd do CPR"
9. Barking Dogs "What? You've never read Steven King's CUJO?"
8. Puddles of Water "Quicksand"
7. Trash Cans "They've been known to swallow horses and transport them into another dimension."
6. Babies and Little Kids "Long lost tribe of horse-eating pygmies."
5. Plaid Horse Blankets "Hey, when was the last time you wore plaid? It adds at least 100 pounds."
4. Ropes and Hoses on the Ground "Dreaded North American trail snakes."
3. Ponies "Cute, clever, hardy. They want to take over the world."
2. Windy Days "Two words: impending tornado."
And the number one scary thing in the minds of horses?
1. Carts and Wagons "Look, you can put a human on our backs, we can always buck them off. But hitching a horse to a wheeled object, it is just not right. No matter how fast the horse trots, the dang cart is still running after him. Oh, the horror!"
Post by twinpinesmt on May 24, 2006 15:27:33 GMT -5
I want to thank all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me your chain letters over the past few years. Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed, and wealthy.
Because of your concern. ......... I no longer drink Starbucks as they don't support our troops. I no longer can drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains. I no longer drink anything out of a can because I will get sick from the rat feces and urine. I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer. I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS. I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day. I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me. I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise. I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops. I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a stupid number for which I will get the phone bill from hell with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan. I no longer eat prepackaged foods because the hoirmones they contain will turn me gay. I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers. I no longer date the opposite sex because they will take my kidneys and leave me taking a nap in a bathtub full of ice. And I no longer sit down on any restaurant toilet seats because the infamous butt spider could be nesting there and send me to a certain death with one sting.
Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes. (Jeeze, the BIBLE didn't mention it works that way!)
I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time). I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.
Yes, I want to thank all of you soooooooo much for looking out for me! I will now return the favor. If you don't send this e-mail to at least 1200 people in the next 60 seconds, a large bird with diarrhea will poop on your head at 5:00PM this afternoon and the fleas of a thousand camels will infest your crotch and your arms will be too short to scratch.
I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of a friend of a friend's neighbor's cousin and he's a lawyer.
Post by twinpinesmt on May 27, 2006 21:56:33 GMT -5
Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out. Well, read on. While the kidney story was an urban legend, this one is not. It's happening every day.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been mine for years?
Whose thighs were these and what happened to mine? I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.
Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My butt was next. I knew it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than my original) to the thighs they stuck me with earlier. Now, my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning I was fixing my hair and I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush.
This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced one section at a time. How clever and fiendish.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age is supposed to creep up, unnoticed, something like maturity. NO, I was being attacked repeatedly and without warning.
n despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next? My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now resembled.
That's why I decided to tell my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of the world, wake up and smell the coffee.
That really isn't plastic that those surgeons are using. You KNOW where they are getting those replacement parts, don't you?
The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted", look again. Was it lifted from you?
I think I finally found my thighs .. and I hope that Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them!
This is not a hoax. This is happening to women in every town every night.
WARN YOUR FRIENDS.
P.S. I must say that last year I thought someone had stolen my breasts.
I was lying in bed and they were gone! As I jumped out of bed I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in my armpits as I slept.
Post by twinpinesmt on Jun 8, 2006 13:30:28 GMT -5
7 Reasons to crawl under a rock
1. CURL UP AND DIE: I walked into a hair salon with my husband and three kids in tow and asked loudly, "How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?" - Melinda Lowe, 39,
2. PAD PLEASE: An insurance man visited me at home to talk about our mortgage insurance. He was throwing a lot of facts and figures at me, and I wanted to follow as best I could, so I told my 6-year-old son to run and get me a pad. He came back and handed me a Kotex right in front of our guest. - Kate Newman, 46,
3. HO, HO, HO I was taking a shower when my 2-year-old son came into the bathroom and wrapped himself in toilet paper. Although he made a mess, he looked adorable, so I ran for my camera and took a few shots. They came out so well that I had copies made and included one with each of our Christmas cards. Days later, a relative called about the picture, laughing hysterically, and suggesting I take a closer look. Puzzled, I stared at the photo and was shocked to discover that in addition to my son, I had captured my reflection in the mirror wearing nothing but a camera! - Name Withheld
4. LADY GOLFER: I was at the golf store comparing different kinds of golf balls. I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using. After browsing for several minutes, I was approached by one of the >good-looking gentlemen who works at the store. He asked if he could help me. Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like playing with men's balls," - Colleen Collins, 31, Ferndale,
5. NUTS ABOUT YOU My sister and I were at the mall and passed by a store that sold a variety of nuts. As we were looking at the display case, the boy behind the counter asked if we needed any help. I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your nuts." My sister started to laugh hysterically, the boy grinned, and I turned beet-red and walked away. To this day, my sister has never let me forget. - Faye Emerick,
6. PRICELESS: A lady picked up several items at a discount store. When she finally got up to the checker, she learned that one of her items had no price tag. Imagine her embarrassment when the checker got on the intercom and boomed out for the entire store to hear, "PRICE CHECK ON LANE THIRTEEN, TAMPAX, SUPER SIZE." That was bad enough, but somebody at the rear of the store apparently misunderstood the word “Tampax" for "THUMBTACKS." In a businesslike tone, a voice boomed back over the intercom YU WANT THE KIND YOU PUSH IN WITH YOUR THUMB OR THE KIND YOU POUND IN WITH A HAMMER?"
7. MOM'S ADVICE A teacher noticed that a little boy at the back of the class was squirming around, scratching his crotch and not paying attention. She went back to find out what was going on. He was quite embarrassed and whispered that he had just recently been circumcised and he was quite itchy. The teacher told him to go down to the principal's office. He was to phone his mother and ask her what he should do about it. He did it and returned to his class. Suddenly, there was a motion at the back of the room. She went back to investigate only to find him sitting at his desk with his thingy hanging out. "I thought I told you to call your mom." She screamed. "I did," He said,”And she told me that if I could stick it out till noon, she'd come and pick me up from school."