mucho thankso to Rrrose
mucho thankso to Rrrose
When a fellow piano tuner from our company was ill, I was assigned to take over his assignment of tuning a piano in a young ladies’ boarding house. While I was at work, several of the girls strolled casually through the room in various states of undress.
The climax came when a pretty young lady, with startlingly little on, appeared to pay the bill. As I was handing her the receipt, she suddenly gave me a bewildered look, then fled, screaming, “That’s not our regular man!”
Turns out their regular man is blind!
[from Jim Mica] A Tale of Two Parts
A woman named Jill stood up at her church’s Testimony Meeting one Sunday morning, took the microphone from one of the church ushers, and bared her soul to the entire congregation:
“I want to tell you about the awful accident that my husband, John, has suffered this past month. He was riding his bike, lost control, ran off the highway and hit a tree. He was rushed to the hospital, and could have died, but thank the Lord, all he suffered was a broken
The congregation gasped in horror. The men in the congregation were obviously uneasy and writhed in their seats. “John has been in terrible pain all month since the accident. He has trouble breathing. He has trouble swallowing his food. He can hardly lift anything, he’s in so much pain and he has missed work because of it. He can’t lift our children up to hold them and give them the personal love that they need, worst of all, we can no longer cuddle and have intimate relations. He is in constant pain, a pain so terrible that our love life has all but slipped away into oblivion. I would like to ask you all in the congregation to pray for John, and pray for us, that his broken scrotum will soon heal and be as good as new.”
A dull murmur erupted within the congregation as the full impact of this terrible accident sunk in, and the men in the congregation were visibly shaken-up.
Then, as the murmuring settled down, a lone figure stood up in the midst of the congregation, worked his way up to the pulpit, obviously in pain, adjusted the microphone to his liking, then leaned over and said to the congregation:
“My name is John, and I have only one word for my wife, Jill. That word is: STERNUM!”
From BBC News:
The Boeing 737 stuck in city road
By Monica Chadha
BBC News, Mumbai
Residents of the Indian city of Mumbai (Bombay) are wondering how long it will take to remove a disused Boeing 737 that has been abandoned in a busy road.
The decommissioned aircraft was being driven through the city at the weekend when the driver got lost and then abandoned the plane.
It appears that after taking a wrong turn, the driver found himself facing a flyover that was too low for him to take the plane under.
The driver has not been seen since and no-one is assuming responsibility for the 737.
Too good to not share.
From my librarian friend, Miz Legs:
AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. JAMES THATCHER, MARKETING DIRECTOR, PROCTER & GAMBLE
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.
Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from “the curse”? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my “time of the month” is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call “an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.” Isn’t the human body amazing?
As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers’ monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants.
Which brings me to the reason for my letter.
Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: “Have a Happy Period.”
Are you f—ing kidding me?
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness-actual smiling, laughing happiness-is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything “happy” about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and KahlÃºa and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like “Put Down the Hammer” or “Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong”? Or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always.
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