My youngest daughter is a poor, starving college student (her opinion, not mine). And she thinks I should still support her (her and Mrs.T's opinion, not mine). When she asks me to buy her something, my standard response is always "No", and then I negotiate upward (typically Mrs.T gets involved at this stage in the process). I then ultimately buy what she had initially asked for. I fully understand that I have no real chance during these negotiations, but the process makes me feel better anyway. And, let's not fool ourselves…she and her mother seldom bother to come to me regarding most of their purchases. Their standard operating procedure is "Better to ask forgiveness than permission". Today, we "need" (her opinion, not mine) to buy a new cell phone. I despise buying cell phones. Of course, the cell phone makers no longer have the model she currently owns, so we will be required to buy a new, more expensive model, which means, of course, that we also will need to buy a new car charger and other miscellaneous accessories. I have officially added cell phones to my ever growing list of "necessary evils" which also includes food, electricity, running water, housing, cars, insurance, computers, Internet, clothing and In-laws.
.
As I pulled off the highway into my subdivision yesterday evening, there were two young men standing beside an old pickup, its hood raised. It was obvious this truck had seen its better days (long ago). I stopped, rolled down my window and asked them if there was anything I could do to help them. One of them nodded toward the pickup and calmly stated, "Gets too hot and starts coughing, spitting, backfiring and finally quits running, but will be fine after a drink of water and a chance to cool down". I nodded, wished them luck and then continued on my way. Sadly, I could relate very well to that old pickup because I have the same symptoms any time I exercise...
.
.
Q: When you apply for Welfare in Mexico, what does that Government give you?
A: The map of the United States
.
.
The man was in no shape to drive, so he wisely left his car parked and walked home. As he was walking unsteadily along, he was stopped by a policeman.
"What are you doing out here at 2 A.M.?" asked the officer.
"I'm going to a lecture", replied the man.
"And who is going to give a lecture at this hour?" the cop asked.
"My wife.", replied the man.
.
.
I was waiting tables in a noisy lobster restaurant in Maine when a vacationing Southerner stumped me with a drink order. I approached the bartender. "Have you ever heard of a drink called 'Seven Young Blondes'?" I asked. He admitted he'd never heard of it, and grabbed a drink guidebook to look it up. Unable to find the recipe, he then asked me to go back and tell the patron that he'd be happy to make the drink if he could list the ingredients for him.
"Sir," I asked the customer, "can you tell me what's in that drink?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. "It's wine," he said, pronouncing his words slowly and carefully, "Sauvignon blanc".
.
.
And some quotes….
.
Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint. - Mark Twain
.
By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher. -Socrates
I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury - Groucho Marx
My wife has a slight impediment in her speech. Every now and then she stops to breathe. -- Jimmy Durante
I have never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back. - Zsa Zsa Gabor
Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar and fat.
- Alex Levine
Money can't buy you happiness .. But it does bring you a more pleasant form of misery. - Spike Milligan
My version of that quote: "Money can't buy you happiness, but I'd sure like to give it a try"
Friday Levity 09.19.2008
I've discovered a new way to completely clean and sanitize my entire BBQ grill. We Americans love our grills, but they can become a real grease pit, unless you're very diligent with your cleaning (which most of you ARE NOT!). There is grease buildup in the lid. And down the sides of the grill. And down in the bottom of the grill. And the underneath side of the grates. Yikes! This past weekend, I had gone outside and cleaned the "top" side of the grates (one should always clean the top side of the grates!). I had lit the grill for pre-heating and then returned to the kitchen to retrieve the meat, utensils and sauces. My son-in-law, who was sitting in the family room, nonchalantly asked if I was burning something outside. I looked out my family room windows and witnessed thick, dark smoke boiling past the windows. The smoke was so thick I couldn't see anything else but smoke!!! I ran outside to find my grill TOTALLY engulfed in flames (grease is very flammable you know!). But hey, I essentially killed two birds with one stone: I had removed all the old grease and I had disinfected the entire grill. However, I would suggest moving your grill away from the house ...
.
I've killed three copperhead snakes around my house over the past week. I average about 4-5 killings per year. After years of experience, I consider myself an expert snake slayer. Steve Irwin wouldn't have appreciated my personal view on the conservation of poisonous snakes. Two of these serpents were discovered on the road between my house and a ravine. I suppose they were moving to the ravine for winter, but quickly met their demise at the hands of this ninja rock chucker. The third snake was in my garage, and she was the second biggest one I've ever killed. I actually took trophy pictures afterwards. I had walked within inches of her several times while I was cleaning and organizing my garage (i.e. hiding things from Mrs. T). When I finally saw her, she was curled up against the closed garage door. I soon introduced her to the business end of a long handled shovel (my favorite weapon of choice). However, I didn't want to kill her in the garage because they emit a very strong odor when killed (I suppose I would too if someone was cutting off my head with a shovel) There are people who can actually smell a live copperhead when one is in the vicinity! As for me, I typically stumble around and find them by mistake, usually after having almost stepped on them several times. I didn't want to run across the garage to press the button to open the door, fearing she might slither off and hide somewhere in my garage. So I yelled for Mrs.T and asked her to come open the garage door. I was going to scoop the snake out of the garage and kill it on my driveway. All went well. Mrs.T didn't panic and did her job well. Unlike her Grandma back in the depression of the 1930's. Mrs.T's Grandpa could pick up a snake by the tail, crack it like whip, effectively snapping its head off. Once, in the middle of the night, they heard the chickens cackling and obviously disturbed. Grandpa went to investigate. Eggs were a valuable commodity and they didn't want to lose chickens nor eggs to predators such as raccoons and foxes. Grandma decided to get up and go with Grandpa. He let her carry the lantern and he was carrying the gun. They soon discovered a HUGE snake in the chicken house. Grandpa could see its tail sticking out from underneath a shelf, so he decided to grab it and snap its head off. Just as he grabbed the snake, Grandma, knowing what was about to happen, ran out the door, taking the lantern with her, leaving Grandpa alone in total darkness, holding a snake who was trying to introduce itself to Grandpa. Grandma didn't get to carry the lantern anymore after that…
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Paddy phones an ambulance because his mate's been hit by a car. Paddy says, 'Get an ambulance here quick, he's bleeding from his nose and ears and I think both his legs are broken'
Operator 'What is your location sir?'
Paddy 'Outside number 28, Eucalyptus Street'
Operator 'How do you spell that sir?' Silence.
After a few seconds, operator asks, 'Are you there sir?' Silence.
A few more seconds elapse: Operator asks, 'Sir, can you hear me!!?'
This goes on for another few minutes until:- Operator 'Sir, please answer me. Can you still hear me!!?'
Paddy: 'Yes, sorry bout dat. I just dragged him round to number 3, Oak Street'.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY? (written by kids)
*You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. -- Alan, age 10
*No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. -- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then. -- Camille, age 10
**HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids. -- Derrick, age 8
****WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MUM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids. -- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. -- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. -- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns. -- Craig, age 9
*WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich. -- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that. - - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do. -- Howard, age 8
*IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8 (just LOVE this one)
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
.
I've killed three copperhead snakes around my house over the past week. I average about 4-5 killings per year. After years of experience, I consider myself an expert snake slayer. Steve Irwin wouldn't have appreciated my personal view on the conservation of poisonous snakes. Two of these serpents were discovered on the road between my house and a ravine. I suppose they were moving to the ravine for winter, but quickly met their demise at the hands of this ninja rock chucker. The third snake was in my garage, and she was the second biggest one I've ever killed. I actually took trophy pictures afterwards. I had walked within inches of her several times while I was cleaning and organizing my garage (i.e. hiding things from Mrs. T). When I finally saw her, she was curled up against the closed garage door. I soon introduced her to the business end of a long handled shovel (my favorite weapon of choice). However, I didn't want to kill her in the garage because they emit a very strong odor when killed (I suppose I would too if someone was cutting off my head with a shovel) There are people who can actually smell a live copperhead when one is in the vicinity! As for me, I typically stumble around and find them by mistake, usually after having almost stepped on them several times. I didn't want to run across the garage to press the button to open the door, fearing she might slither off and hide somewhere in my garage. So I yelled for Mrs.T and asked her to come open the garage door. I was going to scoop the snake out of the garage and kill it on my driveway. All went well. Mrs.T didn't panic and did her job well. Unlike her Grandma back in the depression of the 1930's. Mrs.T's Grandpa could pick up a snake by the tail, crack it like whip, effectively snapping its head off. Once, in the middle of the night, they heard the chickens cackling and obviously disturbed. Grandpa went to investigate. Eggs were a valuable commodity and they didn't want to lose chickens nor eggs to predators such as raccoons and foxes. Grandma decided to get up and go with Grandpa. He let her carry the lantern and he was carrying the gun. They soon discovered a HUGE snake in the chicken house. Grandpa could see its tail sticking out from underneath a shelf, so he decided to grab it and snap its head off. Just as he grabbed the snake, Grandma, knowing what was about to happen, ran out the door, taking the lantern with her, leaving Grandpa alone in total darkness, holding a snake who was trying to introduce itself to Grandpa. Grandma didn't get to carry the lantern anymore after that…
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Paddy phones an ambulance because his mate's been hit by a car. Paddy says, 'Get an ambulance here quick, he's bleeding from his nose and ears and I think both his legs are broken'
Operator 'What is your location sir?'
Paddy 'Outside number 28, Eucalyptus Street'
Operator 'How do you spell that sir?' Silence.
After a few seconds, operator asks, 'Are you there sir?' Silence.
A few more seconds elapse: Operator asks, 'Sir, can you hear me!!?'
This goes on for another few minutes until:- Operator 'Sir, please answer me. Can you still hear me!!?'
Paddy: 'Yes, sorry bout dat. I just dragged him round to number 3, Oak Street'.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY? (written by kids)
*You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. -- Alan, age 10
*No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. -- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then. -- Camille, age 10
**HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids. -- Derrick, age 8
****WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MUM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids. -- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. -- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. -- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns. -- Craig, age 9
*WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich. -- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that. - - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do. -- Howard, age 8
*IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8 (just LOVE this one)
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
Friday Levity 09.12.2008
There is a place in your kitchen where I suspect toxic and non-toxic items reside, side by side, day in and day out. A place where you put things and forget about them, only to find them later. Some of you might be thinking "refrigerator", and I'm confident that guess would have some validity. But that's not what I speak of. It's a place I visit only when absolutely needed, and each time I go there, my emotions run the spectrum from anger to jubilation. I had to work on my sink this week. The place I speak of? Underneath the kitchen sink.
.
First of all, I despise the design of the area underneath the sink, including the typical cabinet design. The floor of the kitchen sink is about three inches above the kitchen floor. To work on a kitchen sink, you must lie on your back with only a portion of you underneath the sink, and the remainder of you hanging out in odd, unnatural contortions on the kitchen floor. In my opinion, the area under the sink should hold at least half a body with plenty of room to maneuver around. But, unless you're a sideshow with a traveling circus, most people can only get their head and shoulders in that small, cramped space. And the floor of the cabinet then strikes you painfully and directly across your back. And then, the remainder of your body is bent downward as it flops around on the kitchen floor. Thus, I first feel the emotion of anger as I prepare to work on the sink. And then I experience more anger as I discover that I don't have the right tools and I am required to crawl out and then re-insert myself again. And then more anger as I work on the sink as I tear it apart. Finally, finally, I approach calmness as I get everything put back together. I turn the water supply back on, and if there are no leaks, jubilation! However, if there are leaks, I start over with the anger part (intensified) and I repeat this emotional rollercoaster ride.
.
Of course, before I can work on the sink, I have to remove the small truckload of items residing under the sink, both toxic and non-toxic. Drano, bleach, oven cleaner. Scrubbing cleansers. Kitchen garbage bags (empty, unused ones thankfully!). Dishwashing soap. Dishwasher soap. Rubber gloves. Oh, and that mixing bowl which Mrs. T has been searching for. She has continually accused me in its disappearance. Sheesh, I had forgotten I put it under there to catch leaks. I'm still not sure how I'll explain its mysterious reappearance with all of her other mixing bowls. There was an old mousetrap which wasn't set (when you live in the country, mousetraps are a first line of defense, but obviously, they work better if baited and set).
.
Of course, most people seldom see, nor remember, a lot of this stuff found underneath the kitchen sink. Typically, most people only deal with the items on the front fringes which are accessed frequently and easily. Everything else gets pushed to the back. Only the people who work on the sink actually get to discover what lives in that dark recess. I still haven't told Mrs.T about everything I found. I would have never guessed that mold could flourish on the underneath side of a sink like that. And most importantly, I haven't told her about all the things I put in the garbage. I sure hope she wasn't keeping that pretty, dainty flower vase for sentimental reasons. . .hmmm. . .was that the one she got on our first anniversary. . .or did she get it after the birth of one our children . . .hmmm. . .suddenly, as I write this, it is now painfully obvious that my emotional rollercoaster ride, while under the sink, clouded my judgment and decision making ability. . .I wonder if that would stand up in a court of law. . .
.
.
.
On their 50th wedding anniversary, a couple summed up the reason for their long and happy marriage.
The husband said, "I have tried never to be selfish. After all, there is no "I" in the word 'marriage.'"'
The wife said, "For my part, I have never corrected my husband's spelling."
.
.
"It was different when we were kids. In second grade, a teacher came in and gave us all a lecture about not smoking, and then they sent us over to arts and crafts to make ashtrays for Mother's Day." --Paul Clay
.
.
Two mothers are having a conversation about their children one day.
"How do you get your Marvin up so early on school mornings?" asks Joan.
"Oh, that's easy," replies Marianne. "I just throw the cat on his bed."
"Why does that wake him up?", asks Joan.
"He sleeps with the dog!", replied Marianne.
.
.
.
A repeat, but in this election year, it's worthy of a second time:
.
While stitching up the hand of a 75 year old Queensland farmer, who got cut on a gate while working cattle, the rural doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Kevin and his appointment to Prime Minister of Australia.
"Well, ya know," drawled the old farmer, "this Rudd fella is what they call a fencepost turtle."
Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a fencepost turtle was.
The old farmer said, "when you're driving along a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's called a fencepost turtle."
The old farmer saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain, "You know he didn't get up there by himself, he definitely doesn't belong up there, he doesn't know what to do while he is up there, and you just gotta wonder what kind of dill put him up there in the first place!''
.
.
A real groaner. . .I should repent for having included it...
There was a painter named Wayne who was very interested in making a penny where he could, so he often over-thinned his paint to make it go a wee bit further. As it happened, he got away with this for some time, until the Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on one of their biggest buildings.
Wayne put in a bid, and because his price was so low, he got the job. So he set about erecting the scaffolding and setting up the planks, and buying the paint, and yes, I am sorry to say, over-thinning it with turpentine.
Well, Wayne was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly completed, when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky opened, and the rain poured down, washing the thinned paint off the church and knocking Wayne clear off the scaffold to land on the lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by telltale puddles of the over-thinned and useless paint. Wayne was no fool.
He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he got down on his knees and cried: 'Forgive me, forgive me, what must I do to be forgiven?'
And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke, "Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"
.
.
.
First of all, I despise the design of the area underneath the sink, including the typical cabinet design. The floor of the kitchen sink is about three inches above the kitchen floor. To work on a kitchen sink, you must lie on your back with only a portion of you underneath the sink, and the remainder of you hanging out in odd, unnatural contortions on the kitchen floor. In my opinion, the area under the sink should hold at least half a body with plenty of room to maneuver around. But, unless you're a sideshow with a traveling circus, most people can only get their head and shoulders in that small, cramped space. And the floor of the cabinet then strikes you painfully and directly across your back. And then, the remainder of your body is bent downward as it flops around on the kitchen floor. Thus, I first feel the emotion of anger as I prepare to work on the sink. And then I experience more anger as I discover that I don't have the right tools and I am required to crawl out and then re-insert myself again. And then more anger as I work on the sink as I tear it apart. Finally, finally, I approach calmness as I get everything put back together. I turn the water supply back on, and if there are no leaks, jubilation! However, if there are leaks, I start over with the anger part (intensified) and I repeat this emotional rollercoaster ride.
.
Of course, before I can work on the sink, I have to remove the small truckload of items residing under the sink, both toxic and non-toxic. Drano, bleach, oven cleaner. Scrubbing cleansers. Kitchen garbage bags (empty, unused ones thankfully!). Dishwashing soap. Dishwasher soap. Rubber gloves. Oh, and that mixing bowl which Mrs. T has been searching for. She has continually accused me in its disappearance. Sheesh, I had forgotten I put it under there to catch leaks. I'm still not sure how I'll explain its mysterious reappearance with all of her other mixing bowls. There was an old mousetrap which wasn't set (when you live in the country, mousetraps are a first line of defense, but obviously, they work better if baited and set).
.
Of course, most people seldom see, nor remember, a lot of this stuff found underneath the kitchen sink. Typically, most people only deal with the items on the front fringes which are accessed frequently and easily. Everything else gets pushed to the back. Only the people who work on the sink actually get to discover what lives in that dark recess. I still haven't told Mrs.T about everything I found. I would have never guessed that mold could flourish on the underneath side of a sink like that. And most importantly, I haven't told her about all the things I put in the garbage. I sure hope she wasn't keeping that pretty, dainty flower vase for sentimental reasons. . .hmmm. . .was that the one she got on our first anniversary. . .or did she get it after the birth of one our children . . .hmmm. . .suddenly, as I write this, it is now painfully obvious that my emotional rollercoaster ride, while under the sink, clouded my judgment and decision making ability. . .I wonder if that would stand up in a court of law. . .
.
.
.
On their 50th wedding anniversary, a couple summed up the reason for their long and happy marriage.
The husband said, "I have tried never to be selfish. After all, there is no "I" in the word 'marriage.'"'
The wife said, "For my part, I have never corrected my husband's spelling."
.
.
"It was different when we were kids. In second grade, a teacher came in and gave us all a lecture about not smoking, and then they sent us over to arts and crafts to make ashtrays for Mother's Day." --Paul Clay
.
.
Two mothers are having a conversation about their children one day.
"How do you get your Marvin up so early on school mornings?" asks Joan.
"Oh, that's easy," replies Marianne. "I just throw the cat on his bed."
"Why does that wake him up?", asks Joan.
"He sleeps with the dog!", replied Marianne.
.
.
.
A repeat, but in this election year, it's worthy of a second time:
.
While stitching up the hand of a 75 year old Queensland farmer, who got cut on a gate while working cattle, the rural doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Kevin and his appointment to Prime Minister of Australia.
"Well, ya know," drawled the old farmer, "this Rudd fella is what they call a fencepost turtle."
Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a fencepost turtle was.
The old farmer said, "when you're driving along a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's called a fencepost turtle."
The old farmer saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain, "You know he didn't get up there by himself, he definitely doesn't belong up there, he doesn't know what to do while he is up there, and you just gotta wonder what kind of dill put him up there in the first place!''
.
.
A real groaner. . .I should repent for having included it...
There was a painter named Wayne who was very interested in making a penny where he could, so he often over-thinned his paint to make it go a wee bit further. As it happened, he got away with this for some time, until the Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on one of their biggest buildings.
Wayne put in a bid, and because his price was so low, he got the job. So he set about erecting the scaffolding and setting up the planks, and buying the paint, and yes, I am sorry to say, over-thinning it with turpentine.
Well, Wayne was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly completed, when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky opened, and the rain poured down, washing the thinned paint off the church and knocking Wayne clear off the scaffold to land on the lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by telltale puddles of the over-thinned and useless paint. Wayne was no fool.
He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he got down on his knees and cried: 'Forgive me, forgive me, what must I do to be forgiven?'
And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke, "Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"
.
.
Friday Levity 09.05.2008
I'm going to address something this week which is an uncomfortable topic for most people. Not only is it uncomfortable, it will continually trouble those who don't come to grips with it. It often causes us to stare and/or be stared at. It sometimes causes us to avoid eye contact entirely. Some people actually try to deal with it by taking corrective and/or preventive measures, but alas, it's all in vain. Sometimes you just feel better because yours isn't as bad as theirs. It's happening right now as you read this. It's a constant in life. And it happens to most everything, living or not. It happened to my utility room door this week. There are things you can do to mask it. There are things you can do to make it temporarily disappear, but it will be back. It's relentless. There are things humans can wear to make it look better or attempt to hide it. At times, people should be wearing more (not less), because quite frankly there are things in life I'd just rather not see. It's a topic that you won't hear talked about around the water cooler…perhaps in the locker room, but not in social circles. Men typically won't broach the subject with women, although a woman will sometimes talk about herself (which is perfectly acceptable as long as you don't agree with her). However, a female will often and readily make a male aware his own affliction.
.
Some of you might be guessing "hair loss". That certainly would have been a valid guess, with the exception of my utility room door. Perhaps you're guessing "weight gain". No way. Not going there. It's actually a very small word containing only three letters but carrying a heavy punch. Quite frankly, it might as well be classified as one of our dreaded four letter words not be used in social situations. I can attest that it has certainly done its fair share of damage to me. And quite frankly, from my vantage point, many of you haven't escaped its snare either. It's a word with many synonyms including "drooping, wilting, floppy, baggy, slumped, dropped, lolling, dipping or hanging down" Yes, folks, I have "sag". And don't be so quick to snicker. You too, my friend, are sagging, regardless of your age. You might not be sagging as badly as some, but it's happening. And I doubt you'll be as lucky as my utility room door. It had a loose screw and I was able to fix it…at least for a while. I seriously doubt that fixing one of your loose screws will yield the same results.
.
But take heart. There is a silver lining to this story. Much of you" is migrating south, inching ever closer to the ground, and should you ever fall, much of you won't have far to go. A wise man once said, "It's not the fall that hurts...it's that sudden stop". Thus, the shorter distance you have to go, the better off you'll be. Embrace your sagginess. It's certainly embracing you.
.
.
Quasimodo goes to a doctor for his annual checkup.
"I think something is wrong with your back," the doctor says.
"What makes you say that?" Quasimodo asks.
"Just a hunch", the doctor replied.
.
.
A friend of mine acquired two new dogs and named them Rolex and Timex. They're watch dogs.
.
.
Punny stuff…
.
A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
.
She was only a simply country whisky maker but he loved her still.
.
It's better to love a short girl than not a tall.
.
To some - marriage is a word ... to others - a sentence.
.
Sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center: 'Keep off the Grass'.
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Some of you might be guessing "hair loss". That certainly would have been a valid guess, with the exception of my utility room door. Perhaps you're guessing "weight gain". No way. Not going there. It's actually a very small word containing only three letters but carrying a heavy punch. Quite frankly, it might as well be classified as one of our dreaded four letter words not be used in social situations. I can attest that it has certainly done its fair share of damage to me. And quite frankly, from my vantage point, many of you haven't escaped its snare either. It's a word with many synonyms including "drooping, wilting, floppy, baggy, slumped, dropped, lolling, dipping or hanging down" Yes, folks, I have "sag". And don't be so quick to snicker. You too, my friend, are sagging, regardless of your age. You might not be sagging as badly as some, but it's happening. And I doubt you'll be as lucky as my utility room door. It had a loose screw and I was able to fix it…at least for a while. I seriously doubt that fixing one of your loose screws will yield the same results.
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But take heart. There is a silver lining to this story. Much of you" is migrating south, inching ever closer to the ground, and should you ever fall, much of you won't have far to go. A wise man once said, "It's not the fall that hurts...it's that sudden stop". Thus, the shorter distance you have to go, the better off you'll be. Embrace your sagginess. It's certainly embracing you.
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Quasimodo goes to a doctor for his annual checkup.
"I think something is wrong with your back," the doctor says.
"What makes you say that?" Quasimodo asks.
"Just a hunch", the doctor replied.
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A friend of mine acquired two new dogs and named them Rolex and Timex. They're watch dogs.
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Punny stuff…
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A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
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She was only a simply country whisky maker but he loved her still.
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It's better to love a short girl than not a tall.
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To some - marriage is a word ... to others - a sentence.
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Sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center: 'Keep off the Grass'.
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