Give me head or the monkey gets spanked.

...which is about as redundant as an 'orange orange

Guess what happened to me? Cause stuff like this always happens to me. My Dad and I come out of the hardware store to see my car driving out of the parking lot. Dad shouts "Someone is stealing your car!". We run up to the car to see that the security club is still on the steering wheel, but the car is driving away. Well, not too far away as it is being very intimate with a concrete light pole. I drop my shopping and dash for the car. Running along side it, I open the drivers door (what's left of it) and jump in the car and hit the brakes. The driver's side mirror and most of the body panels are ripped off. The emergency brake was on the whole time but it was also in gear. What happened? The remote start went haywire. Why do we have remote start? It came with the alarm. The car just started itself and drove into a concrete pole. And remote starts should never EVER engage when the car is in gear. I was just a little mad. Dad's comment "If I hadn't seen it, I would have called you a liar". Heavy words from my Dad and foreshadowing too. At the grocery store about 10 minutes later it did it again. While I was sitting in the car, with the keys in my hand. This time it wasn't in gear so it just sat there and ran the engine. Wife not very happy, but understanding and trusting. Forward 3 days, the car is at the dealership. They agree to remove the remote start but smarmy mechanic says to the Wife, "I'm not sure about this, remote starts don't work when the car is in gear". Forward 2 hours later, the staff and ICBC are discussing the situation about the car and then right in front of them the car (now named Christine) starts up and runs into another car inside the garage. They promptly yanked the remote start wiring out of it. To wrap up, we have to make an ICBC claim and pay the costs because they still won't take the blame. And yes, there is a class action suit against Honda by other owners this has happened to and we are joining them. I hate cars, cars hate me.

A Worse Mousetrap

As I type, the mouse climbs my shoulder and leaps into my breast pocket. I laugh when his furry gray head pops out. He twitters his whiskers, watching as I finish my apology. I hug him against my heart. Later, I will sign my note as the rat poison makes it way through my system.

100 Jolts: Shockingly Short Stories by Michael A. Arnzen

My brother came home from living in Bolivia and Ecuador with a new game. I don't know spanish, but it was something like 'pase del gato', or 'Passing of the Cat' in english. The premise of the game being that a group would sit in a circle and pass a cat around. Eventually the cat would want out of the game, and would therefore claw its way out. The clawee would be the loser, and the players would find something else to do (or another cat).

Fear is realizable. Fear can only be overcome through diligence and patience. Winnie the Pooh wasn't named after Winston Churchill, but Winston Churchill did say, 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.' I like Winston Churchill. He wrote a lot of great books.

My girlfriend is the daughter of the Edinburgh Zoo Warden.


She lives right in the middle of the zoo, which makes coming and going at night on foot hair-raisingly interesting.


Her room is even more interesting, with an enormous coal fire, mounted heads on the walls, and about 20 different big animal pelts lying around.


Of course, we make it our mission to perform a comparison study of which is the best pelt to place in front of the fire and make love on.


Zebra is way too harsh and itchy.


Gnu is too small and wiry.


Grizzly bear is just wonderful.


But our hands-down favourite was snow leopard.


So, if your love-life needs a spark, go bag yourself a snow leopard.


Better be quick, though -- there's only about three left...

"Good rice, good curry, good Gandhi, let's hurry" is not an acceptable form of Grace. Apparently.

Standing behind a 50-ish Mexican man at the liquor store. He was buying about 200 single-shot bottles of vodka, scotch and rum, etc.

The cashier: "you know, you can buy large bottles of these..."


The Mexican man simply pointed outside.


In the bed of his truck was an enormous naked-woman pinata.


I love living this close to the border.

One time in high school a clerk turned his back on my friends so they stole an entire roll of scratch tickets from the counter.
They drove really fast to other stores so they could cash them all before they were looking for them.

The entire roll of over 500 tickets cashed out at less than $150.

Don't buy scratch tickets.

I have a broken rib right now.

Never throw a bunch of wire coat hangers into a lamaze class.

One morning I wake up to find my roomate, standing in front of the refrigerator, freezer door open, sniffing the top of a plastic milk jug and giggling hysterically.


"Smell this," he insists.


I'm still half asleep, so when he holds the open bottle up to my nose, I take a deep whiff.


Mistake.


The stench wafting up from that bottle was enough to unhinge my knees. I collpased in a heap on the floor, eyes watering, snorting like a mad bull to clear the vile odor from my nostrils. I'd literally been knocked down, the smell was so bad.


"What was that?" I gasped. The bottle seemed completely empty except for a thin glaze of ice at the bottom.


He laughed crazily. "Last night when I was studying, every time I had to fart I'd hold this bottle up to my asshole and fart into it. Then I stuck it in the freezer overnight to see what would happen."


So that was it. Frozen farts.


More disturbing than the smell, perhaps, was the ice build up on the bottom of the bottle. I guess all that humidity coming out of his ass had condensed and frozen into pure fart crystals.


"Want to smell it again?" he giggled.


"Sure, why not."

"if you wanna come over and fuck, that's cool... but if you just wanna come over, well... that ain't cool."

He is not so different, I suppose, from a young girl I saw last week in a grocery checkout line. She was with her mother. She couldn’t have been more than six. She was white. As her mother paid the bill, she looked up at the cashier, a black woman, and in a loud, clear voice, said, “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you black?” Her mother gasped. But the cashier, who knew where the question was coming from, merely smiled and said, “Why, yes, young lady! I am!”.

procrastination is like masturbation, it feels good while ur doing it but in the end you're only fucking yourself.

The Girls (chronlogically):

#1 - Debra (the bestest and only one for me!)
#2 - Alexandria (fmdfm)
#3 - Maria (angry)
#4 - Linda (fishtank)
#5 - Lisa (blonde)
#6 - Cornelia (born again)

And the really weird thing. All of their names end in 'A'.

Weird.

La Salsa Hombre
Onan's Bearnaise
Love Pollution
Saint Mayo's Spread of Desperation
Instant Daddy Mix

1. I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with human sacrifice?

2. Seriously, will you still be this interested in me after we've dated for a while?

3. Would you be able to tell if I were defecating right now?

4. I am French. Your money means nothing to me.

5. I can smell your panties through the phone.

The hand-job was perfect...she had lube...he was hot...and just as he reached the pinacle of orgasm...he farted.

My wife just called me in to the living room.
'Come check out this chicks rack!'
Marriage can be a good thing.