Bob Denman
New member
I've got a buddy out in Utah who gets off of his Outlander 800 MAX once in a while to send me some tidbits... :thumbup:
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There were many reasons for the change of the site software, the biggest was security. The age of the old software also meant no server updates for certain programs. There are many benefits to the new software, one of the biggest is the mobile functionality. Ill fix up some stuff in the coming days, we'll also try to get some of the old addons back or the data imported back into the site like the garage. To create a thread or to reply with a post is basically the same as it was in the prior software. The default style of the site is light colored, but i temporarily added a darker colored style, to change you can find a link at the bottom of the site.
Missing---Joke Forum, so I'll just start a thread.
- Thread starter ThreeWheels
- Start date
Bob Denman
New member
Hello, is this the Sheriff's Office?
''Yes, What can I do for you?''
'' I'm calling to report 'bout my neighbor Virgil Smith.... He's hiding marijuana inside his firewood! Don't quite know how he gets it
inside them logs, but he's hidin' it there.'' ''Thank you very much for the call, sir.'' The next day, the Sheriff's Deputies descend on
Virgil's house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood. but find no marijuana.
They sneered at Virgil and leave. Shortly after the phone rings at Virgil's house. ''Hey, Virgil, This here's Floyd.... Did the Sheriff come?''
'Yeah!'' '' Did they chop your firewood for the winter?'' ''Yep!'' ''Happy Birthday buddy!''
''Yes, What can I do for you?''
'' I'm calling to report 'bout my neighbor Virgil Smith.... He's hiding marijuana inside his firewood! Don't quite know how he gets it
inside them logs, but he's hidin' it there.'' ''Thank you very much for the call, sir.'' The next day, the Sheriff's Deputies descend on
Virgil's house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood. but find no marijuana.
They sneered at Virgil and leave. Shortly after the phone rings at Virgil's house. ''Hey, Virgil, This here's Floyd.... Did the Sheriff come?''
'Yeah!'' '' Did they chop your firewood for the winter?'' ''Yep!'' ''Happy Birthday buddy!''
Bob Denman
New member
Farmer Joe decided his injuries from his recent accident were serious
enough to take the trucking company responsible for the accident to
court. In court, the trucking company's fancy lawyer was questioning
farmer Joe.
"Didn't you say, at the scene of the accident, that you were fine?"
''Well, I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule
Bessie into the--"
''I didn't ask for any details,'' the lawyer interrupted. ''Just answer
the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, that you
were fine?"
''Well I had just got Bessie into the trailer and was driving down the
road--''
''Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the
accident, this man told the State Trooper on the scene that he was just
fine. Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my
client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the
question.'' By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Joe's
answer and told the lawyer so.
''Well," said the farmer, "as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my
favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway
when this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my
truck right in the side. I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was
thrown into the other. I was hurting real bad and didn't want to move.
However, I could hear ol' Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in
terrible shape just by her groans. Shortly after the accident a State
Trooper came on the scene. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so
he went over to her. After he looked at her he took out his gun and shot
her between the eyes. Then the Trooper came across the road with his gun
in his hand and looked at me. He said, 'Your mule was in such bad shape
I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?'" :shocked:
enough to take the trucking company responsible for the accident to
court. In court, the trucking company's fancy lawyer was questioning
farmer Joe.
"Didn't you say, at the scene of the accident, that you were fine?"
''Well, I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule
Bessie into the--"
''I didn't ask for any details,'' the lawyer interrupted. ''Just answer
the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, that you
were fine?"
''Well I had just got Bessie into the trailer and was driving down the
road--''
''Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the
accident, this man told the State Trooper on the scene that he was just
fine. Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my
client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the
question.'' By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Joe's
answer and told the lawyer so.
''Well," said the farmer, "as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my
favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway
when this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my
truck right in the side. I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was
thrown into the other. I was hurting real bad and didn't want to move.
However, I could hear ol' Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in
terrible shape just by her groans. Shortly after the accident a State
Trooper came on the scene. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so
he went over to her. After he looked at her he took out his gun and shot
her between the eyes. Then the Trooper came across the road with his gun
in his hand and looked at me. He said, 'Your mule was in such bad shape
I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?'" :shocked:
Bob Denman
New member
My sex life is just like a Ferrari...
I don't have one of those either! :shocked:
I don't have one of those either! :shocked:
sounding board again ???
It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That’s when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two.
He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good.
He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I’m not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn’t
want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms.
We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. I didn’t want to be “that girl” so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit
. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love?
That’s when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways – uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told
Rob I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and probably needed to head home.
On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn’t having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed
with a bunch of tiny forks. Then I realized …My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach
and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard.
“Seriously, you need to hurry – I’m in a lot of pain.” I managed to say through gritted teeth.
“Wow, it’s that bad? What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”
How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you’re writhing in pain is because you have to fart? Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.
People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out. The more I tried to stop it,
the more it forced it’s way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it.
Maybe I’m home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a, “am I smelling something?” sort of way. More like a “is someone dead and rotting
in your trunk and am I in hell?” sort of way.
Suddenly, I panicked. “Roll down the windows!” I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).
“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.
“I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!”
“What’s going on?” Rob yells back to me, “Why are you …” then it hit him. I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids,
“Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.
“Roll down the windows!” As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either
by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.
It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.
Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on
the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.
We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way.
He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, “Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” and ran in to my
apartment like I was running from the cops.
I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.
Then I heard it. Rob’s voice......... Right....... Outside........ My.......... Bathroom........ Door.
“Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Get away from the door!” I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist.
“Ok, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*
“I’m fine, Rob – just leave the shoes there. I’ll call you later okay?”
“Okay, are you sure you’re …”
“I’m fine! Get away from the door!”
This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin’ hint!
Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I’d hear from him. I didn’t think it was possible to ever see a man again after he
screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours.
But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we’re married and he’s laying on the couch while I type this … “It was your rack that saved you,” he just lovingly reminded me.
Well, thank you boobs. You saved us. You saved our destiny.
You’re welcome…..and when you’re done laughing read it again!
It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That’s when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two.
He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good.
He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I’m not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn’t
want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms.
We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. I didn’t want to be “that girl” so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit
. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love?
That’s when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways – uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told
Rob I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and probably needed to head home.
On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn’t having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed
with a bunch of tiny forks. Then I realized …My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach
and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard.
“Seriously, you need to hurry – I’m in a lot of pain.” I managed to say through gritted teeth.
“Wow, it’s that bad? What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”
How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you’re writhing in pain is because you have to fart? Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.
People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out. The more I tried to stop it,
the more it forced it’s way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it.
Maybe I’m home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a, “am I smelling something?” sort of way. More like a “is someone dead and rotting
in your trunk and am I in hell?” sort of way.
Suddenly, I panicked. “Roll down the windows!” I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).
“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.
“I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!”
“What’s going on?” Rob yells back to me, “Why are you …” then it hit him. I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids,
“Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.
“Roll down the windows!” As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either
by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.
It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.
Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on
the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.
We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way.
He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, “Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” and ran in to my
apartment like I was running from the cops.
I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.
Then I heard it. Rob’s voice......... Right....... Outside........ My.......... Bathroom........ Door.
“Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Get away from the door!” I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist.
“Ok, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*
“I’m fine, Rob – just leave the shoes there. I’ll call you later okay?”
“Okay, are you sure you’re …”
“I’m fine! Get away from the door!”
This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin’ hint!
Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I’d hear from him. I didn’t think it was possible to ever see a man again after he
screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours.
But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we’re married and he’s laying on the couch while I type this … “It was your rack that saved you,” he just lovingly reminded me.
Well, thank you boobs. You saved us. You saved our destiny.
You’re welcome…..and when you’re done laughing read it again!
Arr MiHardies
New member
Haha that was funny. 
Bob Denman
New member
Ahhh... A true lover story!
Last edited:
Bob Denman
New member
It's funny...
When my Missus gives me the silent treatment; she thinks that it's punishment...
I'd hate to spoil her fun!
When my Missus gives me the silent treatment; she thinks that it's punishment...
I'd hate to spoil her fun!
Bob Denman
New member
Men have feelings too... :shocked:
For example: we feel hungry! :thumbup:
For example: we feel hungry! :thumbup:
FrankPa
New member
True story...
I used to work at at tire store a long time ago... a guy walked up to the counter and said, "I need to get tires for my Midget." Without missing a beat I answered, "Great! What kind of car does he drive?"
I used to work at at tire store a long time ago... a guy walked up to the counter and said, "I need to get tires for my Midget." Without missing a beat I answered, "Great! What kind of car does he drive?"
Rando
New member
Bran flakes and prunes!
Tony and Yvonne were 85 years old and had been married for sixty years. Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they carefully watched their pennies.
Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to Yvonne's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade.
One day, their good health didn't help when they went on yet another holiday vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven.
They reached the pearly gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favorite clothes in the closet. They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.'
Tony asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. 'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'
Tony looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth..
'What are the greens fees?,' grumbled Tony..
'This is heaven,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free, every day.'
Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch.
'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to Tony. This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.'
Tony looked around and nervously asked Yvonne 'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods and the decaffeinated tea?'
'That's the best part,' St. Peter replied. 'You can eat and drink as much as you like and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!'
'No gym to work out at?' said Tony
'Not unless you want to,' was the answer.
'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...'
'Never again'
Tony glared at Yvonne and said, 'You and your Bran Flakes. We could have been here ten years ago!'
Have A Happy Life And Give someone A Smile.
Tony and Yvonne were 85 years old and had been married for sixty years. Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they carefully watched their pennies.
Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to Yvonne's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade.
One day, their good health didn't help when they went on yet another holiday vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven.
They reached the pearly gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favorite clothes in the closet. They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.'
Tony asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. 'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'
Tony looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth..
'What are the greens fees?,' grumbled Tony..
'This is heaven,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free, every day.'
Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch.
'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to Tony. This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.'
Tony looked around and nervously asked Yvonne 'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods and the decaffeinated tea?'
'That's the best part,' St. Peter replied. 'You can eat and drink as much as you like and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!'
'No gym to work out at?' said Tony
'Not unless you want to,' was the answer.
'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...'
'Never again'
Tony glared at Yvonne and said, 'You and your Bran Flakes. We could have been here ten years ago!'
Have A Happy Life And Give someone A Smile.
Rando
New member
Spyder oil change for women
Spyder Oil Change instructions for Women:
1. Pull up to your local Spyder Dealership when the mileage reaches 3,000 miles since the last oil change.
2. Relax in the waiting room while enjoying several cups of coffee and watching TV.
3. Approximately 2 hours later, scan debit card and leave, driving a properly maintained Spyder.
Money spent:
Oil Change:$136.00
Coffee: Complementary
TOTAL: $136.00
Oil Change instructions for Men:
1. Wait until Saturday, drive to local Spyder Dealership and buy a Spyder oil change kit. On the way home, stop buy your local Walmart and pick up kitty litter, hand cleaner and a scented tree. Use your debit card. Total $150.00.
2. Stop to buy a case of beer, (debit $24), drive home.
3. Open a beer and drink it.
4. Jack Spyder up. Spend 30 minutes looking for jack stands.
5. Find jack stands under kid's pedal car.
6.. In frustration, open another beer and drink it.
7. Place drain pan under Spyder engine.
8. Look for hex tool.
9. Give up and use a torx.
10. Attempt to unscrew and end up stripping out drain plugs.
11. Cuss.
12. Crawl out from under Spyder to wipe hot oil off of face and arms. Throw kitty litter on spilled oil. Log onto SpyderLovers and find out how to remove stripped out drain plugs.
13. Have another beer while watching oil drain.
14. Spend 30 minutes looking for correct size of hex tool to remove oil filter cover.
15. Give up but you find that a torx seems to fit O.K. See #10 above.
16. Crawl out from under Spyder with dripping oil filter splashing oil. Cleverly hide old oil filter among trash in trash can to avoid environmental penalties. Drink a beer.
17. Install new oil filter making sure to apply a thin coat of oil to gasket surface.
18. Dump first quart of fresh oil into engine.
19. Remember drain plugs from step 11.
20. Drive to Spyder dealer to purchase replacement drain plugs.
21. Drink beer.
22. Discover that first quart of fresh oil is now on the floor. Throw kitty litter on oil spill.
23. Get drain plugs back in with only a minor spill. Drink beer.
24. Crawl under Spyder getting kitty litter into eyes. Wipe eyes with oily rag used to clean drain plugs. Slip with stupid torx wrench tightening drain plug and bang knuckles on frame removing any excess skin between knuckles and frame.
25. Begin cussing fit.
26. Throw stupid torx wrench.
27. Cuss for additional 5 minutes because wrench hit truck and left dent.
28. Beer.
29. Clean up hands and bandage as required to stop blood flow.
30. Beer.
31. Dump in additional oil, start engine, shutdown and top of oil to fill line.
32. Beer.
33. Lower Spyder from jack stands.
34. Move Spyder back to apply more kitty litter to fresh oil spilled during any missed steps.
35. Beer.
36. Test drive Spyder.
37. Get pulled over: arrested for driving under the influence.
38. Spyder gets impounded..
39. Call loving wife, make bail. 40. 12 hours later, get Spyder from impound yard. Money spent:
Parts: $150.00
DUI: $2,500..00
Impound fee: $75.00
Bail: $1,500.00
Beer: $20.00
TOTAL: $4,245.00
But you know the job was done right!
Spyder Oil Change instructions for Women:
1. Pull up to your local Spyder Dealership when the mileage reaches 3,000 miles since the last oil change.
2. Relax in the waiting room while enjoying several cups of coffee and watching TV.
3. Approximately 2 hours later, scan debit card and leave, driving a properly maintained Spyder.
Money spent:
Oil Change:$136.00
Coffee: Complementary
TOTAL: $136.00
Oil Change instructions for Men:
1. Wait until Saturday, drive to local Spyder Dealership and buy a Spyder oil change kit. On the way home, stop buy your local Walmart and pick up kitty litter, hand cleaner and a scented tree. Use your debit card. Total $150.00.
2. Stop to buy a case of beer, (debit $24), drive home.
3. Open a beer and drink it.
4. Jack Spyder up. Spend 30 minutes looking for jack stands.
5. Find jack stands under kid's pedal car.
6.. In frustration, open another beer and drink it.
7. Place drain pan under Spyder engine.
8. Look for hex tool.
9. Give up and use a torx.
10. Attempt to unscrew and end up stripping out drain plugs.
11. Cuss.
12. Crawl out from under Spyder to wipe hot oil off of face and arms. Throw kitty litter on spilled oil. Log onto SpyderLovers and find out how to remove stripped out drain plugs.
13. Have another beer while watching oil drain.
14. Spend 30 minutes looking for correct size of hex tool to remove oil filter cover.
15. Give up but you find that a torx seems to fit O.K. See #10 above.
16. Crawl out from under Spyder with dripping oil filter splashing oil. Cleverly hide old oil filter among trash in trash can to avoid environmental penalties. Drink a beer.
17. Install new oil filter making sure to apply a thin coat of oil to gasket surface.
18. Dump first quart of fresh oil into engine.
19. Remember drain plugs from step 11.
20. Drive to Spyder dealer to purchase replacement drain plugs.
21. Drink beer.
22. Discover that first quart of fresh oil is now on the floor. Throw kitty litter on oil spill.
23. Get drain plugs back in with only a minor spill. Drink beer.
24. Crawl under Spyder getting kitty litter into eyes. Wipe eyes with oily rag used to clean drain plugs. Slip with stupid torx wrench tightening drain plug and bang knuckles on frame removing any excess skin between knuckles and frame.
25. Begin cussing fit.
26. Throw stupid torx wrench.
27. Cuss for additional 5 minutes because wrench hit truck and left dent.
28. Beer.
29. Clean up hands and bandage as required to stop blood flow.
30. Beer.
31. Dump in additional oil, start engine, shutdown and top of oil to fill line.
32. Beer.
33. Lower Spyder from jack stands.
34. Move Spyder back to apply more kitty litter to fresh oil spilled during any missed steps.
35. Beer.
36. Test drive Spyder.
37. Get pulled over: arrested for driving under the influence.
38. Spyder gets impounded..
39. Call loving wife, make bail. 40. 12 hours later, get Spyder from impound yard. Money spent:
Parts: $150.00
DUI: $2,500..00
Impound fee: $75.00
Bail: $1,500.00
Beer: $20.00
TOTAL: $4,245.00
But you know the job was done right!
Bob Denman
New member
Oh wait... this happened to you??
Bob Denman
New member
A single guy decided that life would be more fun if he had a pet.
So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy an unusual pet.
After some discussion, he finally bought a talking centipede, (100-legged bug),
which came in a little white box to use for his house.
He took the box back home, found a good spot for the box, and decided he would start off
by taking his new pet to church with him.
So he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to church with me today?
We will have a good time."
But there was no answer from his new pet.
This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked again, "How about going
to church with me and receive blessings?"
But again, there was no answer from his new friend and pet.
So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation.
The guy decided to invite the centipede one last time.
This time, he put his face up against the centipede' s house and shouted,
"Hey, in there! Would you like to go to church with me and learn about God?"
.....YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS......
This time, a little voice came out of the box,
"I heard you the first time!
I 'm putting my shoes on!"
So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy an unusual pet.
After some discussion, he finally bought a talking centipede, (100-legged bug),
which came in a little white box to use for his house.
He took the box back home, found a good spot for the box, and decided he would start off
by taking his new pet to church with him.
So he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to church with me today?
We will have a good time."
But there was no answer from his new pet.
This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked again, "How about going
to church with me and receive blessings?"
But again, there was no answer from his new friend and pet.
So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation.
The guy decided to invite the centipede one last time.
This time, he put his face up against the centipede' s house and shouted,
"Hey, in there! Would you like to go to church with me and learn about God?"
.....YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS......
This time, a little voice came out of the box,
"I heard you the first time!
I 'm putting my shoes on!"
Trickie Dick
New member
Thoughts for the Day
Think about this:
1. Cows
2. The Constitution
3. The Ten Commandments
COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington? And, they tracked hercalves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.
THE CONSTITUTION
They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq ....
why don't we just give them ours?
It was written by a lot of really smart guys,
it has worked for over 200 years,
and we're not using it anymore.
THE 10 COMMANDMENTS
The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse is this -- you cannot post
'Thou Shalt Not Steal'
'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery' and
'Thou Shall Not Lie'
in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians,
it creates a hostile work environment.
Think about this:
1. Cows
2. The Constitution
3. The Ten Commandments
COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington? And, they tracked hercalves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.
THE CONSTITUTION
They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq ....
why don't we just give them ours?
It was written by a lot of really smart guys,
it has worked for over 200 years,
and we're not using it anymore.
THE 10 COMMANDMENTS
The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse is this -- you cannot post
'Thou Shalt Not Steal'
'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery' and
'Thou Shall Not Lie'
in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians,
it creates a hostile work environment.
Bob Denman
New member
The scariest thing is; you're absolutely right!! :shocked: :thumbup:
Bob Denman
New member
I just love those Southern Belles... 
Imagine this
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Finish laundry, fix dinner, have a glass of wine, e-mail the grand kids.
I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours.
'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet before I go to bed.'
So I headed to the site of my demise 'the bathroom'.
It was one of those 'cold wax' kits.
No melting a clump of hot wax...all you do is just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or whatever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss....how hard can it be?
I mean, I'm not a genius, but I can follow directions and I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK !?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out.
It's two strips facing each other stuck together.
Instead of rubbing them together, my genius 'kicks in' so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (Cold wax, 'Yeah right')
I Lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull.
IT WORKS! O.K., so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't toooo bad.
I can do this, I say to myself with a proud smile.
Hair removal no longer eludes me!
I am SHE-RA, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of the smooth skin (extraordinary)!
With my next strip I move north. I prep for the ultimate hair fighting championship.
I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretch down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip).
I inhale deeply and brace myself.......RRRRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPP!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!! OH MY OH MY!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half of the Strip.
CRAP!
Another deep breath and RIPP!
Everything is spinning and spotted with bright stars.
I think I may pass out...M U S T S t a y C O n S c I O U S...... M U S t- S t a y...... Do I hear crashing drums???
Breathe, breathe ____ _______ ______ O.K...... Back to normal!
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it.
I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.
I hold up the strip!
There is NO hair on it!!!
Where is the hair???
W H E R E I S T H E W A X ?????
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair.
The hair that should be on the strip... IT'S NOT!
I touch---
I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
I found the Hair... I found the WAX!!!
Then I make the next BIG mistake....remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet?
I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut!!! My butt is sealed shut!!! SEALED SHUT !@!#*! (not even air can get in there)! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself.
P L E A S E-- PLEASE don't let me get the urge to poop! ..... 'My head may pop off!'
What can I do to melt the wax? WHAT MELTS WAX? My brain is scrambling.
HOT WATER!!! Hot water melts wax. I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub... Get in. I immerse the wax covered parts and the wax should just melt and then I can gently wipe it off, right? Yeah that will work!
WRONG!!!
I get in the tub, the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water!!!
Which, by the way........ doesn't melt cold wax!!!
So - now, I am stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!!
God bless my adult kids who had convinced me a few months ago to bring my cell phone everywhere, even to the bathroom!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone.
It's a very good conversation starter....
'So my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub! '
There is a slight pause....she doesn't know any secret tricks for hair removal under water but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located.
She says are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?
She is laughing out loud by now... I can hear her!!!
There is no shame in her disregard for my pain ...
She is rolling over with laughter. ....
I wait. I give her the run down and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!! Right!!!
I say .. I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various possible solutions. I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor.
N O T H I N G eels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in cold wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub, in scalding hot water, and then - try dry shaving the sticky wax off!!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I am pretty sure I am going to need 'Post Traumatic Stress' counselling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me and then I finally see my saving grace...THE BOX… the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax!
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY --OH - OH MOMMASITTA !!@*!
The scream probably woke my husband and scared the ****ens out of my friend.
It's soooo painful, but I really don't care. It feels like an earthquake is forcing my flesh apart.
IT WORKS!!! It works!!! I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and she hangs up laughing while trying to sound soulfully sincere.
I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair......THE HAIR IS STILL THERE... ALL OF IT!!!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color............................................. ...........
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Finish laundry, fix dinner, have a glass of wine, e-mail the grand kids.
I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours.
'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet before I go to bed.'
So I headed to the site of my demise 'the bathroom'.
It was one of those 'cold wax' kits.
No melting a clump of hot wax...all you do is just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or whatever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss....how hard can it be?
I mean, I'm not a genius, but I can follow directions and I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK !?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out.
It's two strips facing each other stuck together.
Instead of rubbing them together, my genius 'kicks in' so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (Cold wax, 'Yeah right')
I Lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull.
IT WORKS! O.K., so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't toooo bad.
I can do this, I say to myself with a proud smile.
Hair removal no longer eludes me!
I am SHE-RA, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of the smooth skin (extraordinary)!
With my next strip I move north. I prep for the ultimate hair fighting championship.
I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretch down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip).
I inhale deeply and brace myself.......RRRRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPP!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!! OH MY OH MY!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half of the Strip.
CRAP!
Another deep breath and RIPP!
Everything is spinning and spotted with bright stars.
I think I may pass out...M U S T S t a y C O n S c I O U S...... M U S t- S t a y...... Do I hear crashing drums???
Breathe, breathe ____ _______ ______ O.K...... Back to normal!
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it.
I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.
I hold up the strip!
There is NO hair on it!!!
Where is the hair???
W H E R E I S T H E W A X ?????
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair.
The hair that should be on the strip... IT'S NOT!
I touch---
I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
I found the Hair... I found the WAX!!!
Then I make the next BIG mistake....remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet?
I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut!!! My butt is sealed shut!!! SEALED SHUT !@!#*! (not even air can get in there)! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself.
P L E A S E-- PLEASE don't let me get the urge to poop! ..... 'My head may pop off!'
What can I do to melt the wax? WHAT MELTS WAX? My brain is scrambling.
HOT WATER!!! Hot water melts wax. I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub... Get in. I immerse the wax covered parts and the wax should just melt and then I can gently wipe it off, right? Yeah that will work!
WRONG!!!
I get in the tub, the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water!!!
Which, by the way........ doesn't melt cold wax!!!
So - now, I am stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!!
God bless my adult kids who had convinced me a few months ago to bring my cell phone everywhere, even to the bathroom!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone.
It's a very good conversation starter....
'So my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub! '
There is a slight pause....she doesn't know any secret tricks for hair removal under water but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located.
She says are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?
She is laughing out loud by now... I can hear her!!!
There is no shame in her disregard for my pain ...
She is rolling over with laughter. ....
I wait. I give her the run down and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!! Right!!!
I say .. I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various possible solutions. I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor.
N O T H I N G eels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in cold wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub, in scalding hot water, and then - try dry shaving the sticky wax off!!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I am pretty sure I am going to need 'Post Traumatic Stress' counselling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me and then I finally see my saving grace...THE BOX… the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax!
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY --OH - OH MOMMASITTA !!@*!
The scream probably woke my husband and scared the ****ens out of my friend.
It's soooo painful, but I really don't care. It feels like an earthquake is forcing my flesh apart.
IT WORKS!!! It works!!! I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and she hangs up laughing while trying to sound soulfully sincere.
I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair......THE HAIR IS STILL THERE... ALL OF IT!!!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color............................................. ...........
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