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Retired Husband
Old 08-16-2011, 06:34 PM   #2741
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Retired Husband

RETIRED HUSBAND

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Target.

Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse.

Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from the local Target:

Dear Mrs. Harris,

Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Harris, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras:

1. June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute
intervals.

3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money.

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.

9.. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the ' Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his 'Madonna look' by using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'

And last, but not least:

15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here.' One of the clerks passed out.
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Old 08-18-2011, 10:11 PM   #2742
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be prepared to laugh so hard you will cry........

**********************************

A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good ****, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a ****. I went to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.

I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of **** at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over **** no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of **** the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The **** wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.

Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the **** wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, like what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of **** remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...

While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles.

In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in **** that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid ****. All while thick **** was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.

And there was no ****ing toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.

Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
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Old 08-19-2011, 08:02 AM   #2743
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The world's most brilliantly pointless street flyers. The Most Brilliantly Pointless Street Flyers | Happy Place
Warning: language and images are a bit offensive, but some are hilarious.
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Old 08-19-2011, 08:27 AM   #2744
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One Friday afternoon an old cowboy walks into a bar in a small dusty town in Texas. He goes up to the bartender and orders three glasses of beer, picks them up, takes them to a table, sits down and silently enjoys them. When he finishes he drops off the glasses off at the bar and leaves.

Every Friday afternoon the old cowboy repeats the same routine. After a few visits the bartender says to him you know, I can serve these beers one at a time. That way each one will be cooler when you drink it

But the cowboy answers I could never do that. I have a brother in New Mexico and another in Arizona. Years ago, when we moved away from each we made a pact to always drink together, and since then, whenever I drink a beer I order for them as well.

One afternoon the cowboy enters the bar and only orders two beers, then like always, walks over to an empty table and sits down. Everyone sees this and the whole bar becomes quiet. The bartender walks over to the table, and very softly says to the cowboy I dont want to invade your privacy, but on behalf of everyone here I want to express our deepest condolences for your loss.

The cowboy looks up, sees the serious faces, realizes what they all are thinking, smiles and says Oh no, its not what you are thinking. You see, my wife just found religion, and the first thing she did was ask me to stop drinking, so I promised I would. But she didnt ask my brothers to
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Old 08-19-2011, 03:00 PM   #2745
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Quote:
Originally Posted by MichaelB View Post
The world's most brilliantly pointless street flyers. The Most Brilliantly Pointless Street Flyers | Happy Place
Warning: language and images are a bit offensive, but some are hilarious.
You got that right. I was laughing out loud at a few of them.

On a similar topic, here's a great headline for a news story.

Dick-Snip Vic to Cock Chop Doc: You Prick
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Old 08-20-2011, 10:58 AM   #2746
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I kinda miss some parts of the old days... old non-PC ads:

You’ll never see these ads again
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Old 08-20-2011, 03:31 PM   #2747
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I didn't Ray Stevens was still alive...his take on the federal budget

YouTube - Ray Stevens - Obama Budget Plan
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Old 08-21-2011, 10:19 AM   #2748
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When you're from the country, your perception is a little different.......

A Missouri farmer in his pickup, drove to a neighbor's, and knocked at the door. A boy, about 9,opened the door
"Is your Dad home?"
"No sir, he isn't; he went to town."
"Well, is your Mother here?"
"No sir, she went to town with Dad."
"How about your brother, Larry? Is he here?"
"No sir, He went with Mom and Dad."
The rancher stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other, and mumbling to himself.
"Is there anything I can do for you? I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one, or I can give dad a message."
"Well,"said the rancher uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to your Dad. It's about your brother Larry getting my daughter, Suzie, pregnant."'
The boy thought for a moment. "You would have to talk to Dad about that. I know he charges $500 for the bull and $50 for the hog, but I don't know how much he charges for Larry."
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Old 08-21-2011, 10:31 AM   #2749
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Old 08-21-2011, 12:24 PM   #2750
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Originally Posted by TromboneAl View Post
It's not displaying in the post, and when I enter the URL on its own in a separate tab I get:
Quote:
You are not logged in or you do not have permission to access this page. This could be due to one of several reasons:
Now the suspense is killin' me.
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Old 08-23-2011, 09:06 AM   #2751
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The best brutally honest liquor store signs Brutally Honest Liquor Store Signs | Happy Place
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Old 08-23-2011, 09:52 AM   #2752
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Nords View Post
It's not displaying in the post, and when I enter the URL on its own in a separate tab I get:

Now the suspense is killin' me.
That image was an attachment on a thread on the bike forums, so I guess it only shows up if you're logged on -- good to know.

But, in any case, here's the image I posted:

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Old 08-23-2011, 05:55 PM   #2753
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Originally Posted by TromboneAl View Post
But, in any case, here's the image I posted:
Thanks!
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Old 09-02-2011, 10:07 AM   #2754
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Two little old ladies were sitting on a park bench outside the local town hall where a flower show was in progress.
The older one leaned over and said, ''Life is so boring.
We never have any fun anymore. For $10.00 I'd take my clothes off and streak through that stupid, boring flower show!''
''You're on!'' said the other old lady, holding up a $10.00 note.
The first little old lady slowly fumbled her way out of her clothes and completely naked, streaked (as fast as an old lady can) through the front door of the flower show.
Waiting outside, her friend soon heard a huge commotion inside the hall, followed by loud applause and shrill whistling.
Finally, the smiling and naked old lady came through the exit door surrounded by a cheering, clapping crowd.
''What happened?'' asked her waiting friend.
''I won $1000 as 1st prize for 'Best Dried Arrangement'.''
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So a dyslexic walks into a bra
Old 09-02-2011, 05:53 PM   #2755
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So a dyslexic walks into a bra

and other good dyslexic jokes I harvested from another board I go to. And I know I read this a dozen times and I know I probably did something dyslexic in it!

Did you hear about the agnostic dyslexic who sold his soul to Santa?
or
Did you hear about the dyslexic insomniac agnostic who sits up at night wondering if there's a Dog
or
How many dyslexics does it take to bulb a light change
or
Did you hear about the dyslexic gentleman who wife died in his arms because he kept dialing 119?
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Old 09-02-2011, 06:02 PM   #2756
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I used to know a dyslexic named Otto.
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Old 09-04-2011, 10:11 AM   #2757
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IMPORTANT INFO ON SHAMPOO!!



I just discovered this important info below. Please share
with all your friends.
I don't know WHY I didn't figure this out sooner!!!!!
It's the shampoo I use in the shower!
When I wash my hair, the shampoo runs down my whole body,
and (duh!)
printed very clearly on the shampoo label is this warning:
"FOR EXTRA VOLUME AND BODY."
No WONDER I have been gaining weight!!! Well!
I have gotten rid of that shampoo and I am going to start
using Dawn dish soap instead.
Its label reads, "DISSOLVES FAT THAT IS OTHERWISE DIFFICULT
TO REMOVE."
Problem solved!
If I don't answer the phone . . . I'll be in the shower!
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Old 09-07-2011, 08:27 AM   #2758
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A kindly grandmother's physician retired so she had to go see a new doctor. As part of the first visit he wanted her to bring a list of her current prescriptions. Looking over the list, he asked "Mrs. Jones, why are you being prescribed birth control pills?"

"Well, they help me sleep better at night."

"Mrs. Jones, there is nothing in birth control pills that will help you sleep better at night."

"Oh, yes there is! Every morning I grind one up and put it in my granddaughter's orange juice. Then I sleep better at night."
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Old 09-07-2011, 02:04 PM   #2759
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>The following is an actual question given on a University of Arizona chemistry mid term, and an actual answer turned in by a student.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>The answer by this student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well :
>>>
>>>
>>>Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
>>>
>>>
>>>Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
>>>
>>>
>>>One student, however, wrote the following:
>>>
>>>
>>>First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. There fore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
>>>
>>>
>>>This gives two possibilities:
>>>
>>>1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
>>>
>>>
>>>So which is it?
>>>
>>>
>>>If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct..... ...leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'
>>>
>>>THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.
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Old 09-10-2011, 12:59 PM   #2760
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‎1.Combine the DNA of a pig and a snake.
2.Wait until pigsnake sheds skin.
3.Cut into strips and fry.


UNLIMITED, humane, bacon
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