I thought it was a cracker Plassy...... laughed my A off.......Originally Posted by Plasnart
I thought it was a cracker Plassy...... laughed my A off.......
Prozac
DEAR DIARY
DAY 1: Just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with not much to celebrate. When it came time to re-enact our wedding night, he locked himself in the bathroom and cried.
DAY 2: Today, he says he has a big secret to tell me. He's impotent, he says, and he wants me to be the first to know. Why doesn't he tell me something I don't know! I mean, he actually thinks I haven't noticed.
DAY 3: This marriage is in trouble. A woman has needs. Yesterday, I saw a picture of Nelson's Column and burst into tears.
DAY 4: A miracle has happened! There's a new drug on the market that will fix his 'problem.' It's called Viagra. I told him that if he takes Viagra, things will be just like they were on our wedding night. I think this will work. I replaced his Prozac with the Viagra, hoping to lift something other than his mood.
DAY 5: What absolute bliss!!
DAY 6: Isn't life wonderful but it's difficult to write while he's doing that.
DAY 7: This Viagra thing has gone to his head. No pun intended! Yesterday, at Burger King, the manager asked me if I'd like a Whopper. He thought they were talking about him. But, have to admit it's very nice - I don't think I've ever been so happy.
DAY 8: I think he took too many over the weekend. Yesterday, instead of mowing the lawn, he was using his new friend as a weed whacker. I'm also getting a bit sore down there.
DAY 9: No time to write. He might catch me.
DAY 10: Okay, I admit it. I'm hiding. I mean, a girl can only take so much. And to make matters worse, he's washing the Viagra down with neat whisky! What am I going to do? I feel tacky all over....
DAY 11: I'm basically being screwed to death. It's like living with a Black and Decker drill. I woke up this morning hot-glued to the bed. Even my armpits hurt. He's a complete pig.
DAY 12: I wish he was gay. I've stopped wearing make-up, cleaning my teeth or even washing but he still keeps coming after me! Even yawning has become dangerous ...
DAY 13: Every time I shut my eyes, there's a sneak attack! It's like going to bed with a scud missile. I can hardly walk and if he tries that "Oops, sorry" thing again, I'll kill the bastard.
DAY 14: I've done everything to turn him off. Nothing is working. I even started dressing like a nun but this just seems to make him more horny. Help me.
DAY 15: I think I'll have to kill him. I'm starting to stick to everything I sit on. The cat and dog won't go near him and our friends don't come over any more. Last night I told him to go and **** himself and he did.
DAY 16: The bastard has started to complain about headaches. I hope the bloody thing explodes. I did suggest he might try stopping the Viagra and going back on Prozac.
DAY 17: Switched the pills but it doesn't seem to have made any difference... Christ! Here he comes again.
DAY 18: He's back on Prozac. The lazy sod just sits there in front of the TV all day with that remote control in his hand and expects me to do everything for him. Bliss!!
Western Patrol Club member
GQ with 5.7 Gen 111 V8, Dual ARB airlockers, 33" Coopers, 9000lb Premier winch, Black Widow draws
Top read, Top marks....ROFLMAO
Just read this one, it was posted by Hogman on The 4WD Show forum, really appealed to my strange sense of humor.
Proud to be an Aussie
After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, British scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago.
Not to be outdone by the British , in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times: "American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 50 years earlier than the British".
One week later, Australia's Northern Territory Times , reported the following: "After digging as deep as 30 feet in his backyard in Tennant Creek , Northern Territory, Lucky Bunji, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely bugger all. Lucky has therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Australia had already gone wireless."
Just makes ya feel bloody proud to be Australian!
LOLOLOLOL........................Mine too Doggy........Top marks.......lololol
Love it mate, still laughing my ass off!!!
________________________
______ 2017 D-Max _______
I don't have a short temper. I just have a quick reaction to bullshit
WARNING: Towballs used for recoveries can, and do kill people and damage property.
If Men Got Pregnant...
* Maternity leave would last for two years...with full pay.
* There'd be a cure for stretch marks.
* Natural childbirth would become obsolete.
* Morning sickness would rank as the nation's number one health problem.
* All methods of birth control would be improved 100 percent effectiveness.
* Children would be kept in the hospital until they were toilet trained.
* Men would be eager to talk about commitment.
* They wouldn't think twins were quite so cute.
* Fathers would demand that their sons be home from dates by 10:00pm.
* Men could use THEIR briefcases as diaper bags.
* They'd have to stop saying, "I'm afraid I'll drop him."
* Paternity suits would be a line of clothes.
* They'd stay in bed for the entire nine months.
* Menus at most restaurants would list ice cream and pickles as an entree.
Western Patrol Club member
GQ with 5.7 Gen 111 V8, Dual ARB airlockers, 33" Coopers, 9000lb Premier winch, Black Widow draws
and the human race would be extinct !!!
The Perfect Job
My first job was working in an orange juice factory, but I
got canned...couldn't concentrate.
After that I tried to be a tailor, but I just wasn't suited
for it...mainly because it was just a sew-sew job.
Then I tried to be a chef -- figured it would add a little
spice to my life, but I just didn't have the thyme.
Next I tried working in a muffler factory but that was too
exhausting.
I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance
company, but the work was just too draining.
I attempted to be a deli worker,but any way I sliced it,I
couldn't cut the mustard.
Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just
couldn't hack it, so they gave me the ax.
I was fired from a job at a zoo feeding the giraffes because
I just wasn't up to it.
Next was a job in a shoe factory; I tried but I just didn't
fit in.
So then I got a job in a workout center, but they said I
wasn't fit for the job.
I found being an electrician was interesting, but the work
was shocking.
After many years of trying to find steady work I finally got
a job as a historian until I realized there was no future in
it.
I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn't have
the patients to finish.
My very best job was being a musician, but eventually I
found I wasn't noteworthy.
I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I
couldn't live on my net income.
Western Patrol Club member
GQ with 5.7 Gen 111 V8, Dual ARB airlockers, 33" Coopers, 9000lb Premier winch, Black Widow draws
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!).
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me (again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug.
It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 000?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs.Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen.
"Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um . . . um . . .masturbate.
"Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just... just... excited?" my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle.
And giggle
And then even laugh loudly. :lol: :lol:
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just.. that... I'm picturing you pulling on its... its... teeny little....."
She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie:
Priceless!
Moral of the story:
Pay attention in biology class -
lizards lay eggs
Western Patrol Club member
GQ with 5.7 Gen 111 V8, Dual ARB airlockers, 33" Coopers, 9000lb Premier winch, Black Widow draws
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