Firm enough to hold it's shape, the hotter it gets the more it oozes, melts in your mouth and your hand...but ya don't wanna get it on your blue dress, it'll leave a stain...Comes in a can, ya gotta open it, that'll get your cats attention, but the pussy won't eat it...not even the dog...
Step away from the plate pilgrim. You're causin' global warming... Fowl odors are emitted from every one of your orifices... yet you bipeds study, blame the effects of us cows, amish horses, even pigs on global warming.
Once we roamed the earth is vast herds. Buffalo filled the horizon. Passenger pigeons blotted out the sun in our skies... Yet We had little effect, until you came Flatulently along by the billions...
That being said, beware the man who won't eat meat your bible says, though we bovines idolize, have a hero worship thing for vegan's they stink too!
Your politicians blame us, spend your tax dollars on wasteful studies, but they fail to see, they're the biggest producers of noxious hot air, the worst offenders of your biped species...
So Continue, enjoy your day of thanx, we're thankful for that moo, for today's like Christmas to cows,just remember we're watching you....
Bleary eyed, and not so bushy tailed... definitely hungover, I made coffee, no sugar so I reached for the Raspberry syrup to soften the bitter taste....I didn't notice at first, well until the cup was empty but damn it was sour... unfortunately the syrup and the Balsamic Vinegar were side by side, exact same bottles, nearly the same labels, definitely different contents and taste...it wasn't a savory sensation to say the least... but a taste that brought back memories from holidays long past...
My great Aunt was legally blind, ninety years old and a bit of a wino... one didn't mess with things in her kitchen, she knew right where everything was at, move it and ya might get salt on your cereal instead of sugar.. tasty little surprises like that...
But Beyond that she was a great cook, we grew everything on the farm she even made her own wine... unfortunately a few of us kids decided to get into her home brew one Thanksgiving... A heavy bodied vintage it was, rather strong bouquet of well, stinky feet, and a flavor more like piss and vinegar, with a hint of cheese...
She strained her grapes through old nylon panty hose, the same hose she made cheese with... nothing went to waste on the farm back then, not even an old incontinent woman's worn out pantyhose..
Amazing the memories that aromas and flavors stir up...
My poor ol' car's 20 years old, the flatulent bumblebee sounding batmobile looking buick's had more than a few owners, all who've left their fair share of trash and stink inside, it's never been cleaned out. Some say it's a rolling landfill, others call it a mobile archaeological dig.... but it's my car and I like it just as it smells... or smelled.
Today I went out to get more smokes and there they were, hanging everywhere like ornaments on a christmas tree.... little pine tree and leaf air fresheners.... The Wench thought my car need an olfactory makeover, that and she decorates any surface that stands still long enough for the holidays... so now my humble little ride looks and smells like a New York City Taxi cab...or a rolling summer's eve douche commercial, quite possibly like the Avon Lady committed suicide or her sample bag blew up inside... There's not much left to do but paint it pink, slap on a Mary Kay sticker... roll down the windows and drive teary eyed , gagging merrily along the highway...
Kermit sat on his lily pad, patiently awaiting his mid day meal to fly by, The Colorado River was calm this peaceful spring day and all his kin that hadn't croaked sunned nearby. Suddenly an evil darkness blocked out the sun. The naked apes dirty trembling hand snatched him away, ripping him from the solitude of his back water home... Kermit's life was about to forever change...
The naked ape couldn't wait, there knee deep in the slack water shallows it drew kermit to it's whiskery,grizzled face, the bloodshot eyes,dilated pupils mere pinpoints of empty,craving darkness... staring impatiently at the prize grasped tight between those dirty,trembling hands..
Drawing him ever closer kermit could smell the creatures foul breath, breath that smelled like old frog slime, before he knew what was happening, the naked apes tongue darted out, slathering, licking his back, his white soft under belly... with a satiated fulfilling moan, almost an euphoric sigh, the apelike creature shoved him into it's pockets....
Seems Kermit and his kin The Colorado Green River Frog were well Hallucinogenic, the toxins in his skin sent those that licked him either to heaven or hell, but for the naked apes, big foots... Man kind, Kermit and his kin were a ticket to ride the magic bus, a stairway to euphoric mind altered heaven... that is if they didn't lick to much, he was a toxic toad after all, not a tootsie pop (a little lick or two will do ya, go for the center it'll slew ya)
Okay enough, A man in Kansas was just arrested for possession, possession of a hallucinogenic frog.... Gah! Who discovered ya could get high by licking frogs? How many did they lick before finding the right one? Now we know where they story of the princess turning the frog into a prince came from, she was trippin'... The head of the mormon church getting his divine instructions written upon a golden tablet from a white frog? Go ask Alice, he was a frog licker to...
Now Freakie frog frenching get high guy's in jail, where his frog lickin' days will soon be replaced by suckin' cell mate bubba's trouser snake.... Kermit's been confiscated where he'll hopefully be rehabilitated and released back into the wilds..
Seriously, google....I really gotta quit looking up oddnews...
Ever have an argument ya just knew ya couldn't wouldn't win, one where no matter how right ya were, the other party was to stubborn, to stupid to admit they were wrong? An argument that one day you knew you'd be able to say I told ya so?
Well I'm having one of those right now, a few people here have been feeding a stray kitty that lives in the brush behind our building, they buy it canned cat food, pet it, even carry it around... They've even named it Pepe, it's kinda smelly, that they agree but it's a skunk I keep tellin'em and they just can't see...
I like skunks, I've had a few of the cute critters as pets, but their stinkers were removed... this one's still fully armed, a little weapon of gaseous mass destruction just waiting for someone to rub it's fur the wrong way...
Sometimes there's no point in arguing, it's best to just walk away... far away...
Nov 14, 2007 10:39 am Mood: Emancipated, 6185 Views
Under the cloak of darkness, The flatulant bumblebbee sounding, batmobile lookin' buick and I sped north ( one step ahead of the sheriff,Mr Goodwrench, the evil princess and her kid, "momma should've worn a condom boy"... the arson investigation still continues). Having thrown of the yoke of indentured servitude and escaping before fratricide was commited.... the thought is still there...
But I'm back, there's no place like home, clean clothes, coffee,A bed to sleep instead of that broke back couch... I've missed alot... especially my baby, I yearned to touch her, push her buttons, that response only my touch can bring... With near orgasmic delight she's nestled on my lap, her smooth curves I caress, touch so light.. Dayum I've missed my computer....
If you’ve seen the Hitchcock movie or Throw Momma from the Train, you know what Jeff’s talking about.
Things are driving him so nuts down there that he feels like wrapping his little sis up with tape and a 50-pound lawn & leaf bag and losing her out in Amish country… but he knows that he’ll be the first suspect, him and everyone that sis works with, being the joy that she is.
SO, he’s looking for someone else who has a family member who needs to be taken care of...
Can I reserve any train tickets for anyone out there???
Under the cloak of darkness, Jeff may be able to throw off the yoke of indentured servitude and escape tomorrow. He should be back on-line tomorrow night.
Nov 6, 2007 10:06 pm Mood: Gilligan w/o The Redhead, 5452 Views
Jeff is stuck in Marion for the next several days. The transmission dropped on his flatulent-bumblebee-sounding, Bat-Mobile-looking Buick with a John Deere steering wheel.
His sister, who is unaffectionately known as The Bitch, keeps giving him a ‘to do’ list. He doesn’t have his computer or books, and his Mum loves TV Land shows. Let’s just say that he ain’t a happy camper. But Henri has suddenly turned into a lap cat and holds him prisoner on the broken couch, demanding attention. Tiffy glares at Henri from across the room, stretching and meowing for Jeff‘s attention, begging to be pet. It sounds like Jeff has an abundance of pussy to keep him busy.
For those who have a transmission for Jeff’s flatulent-bumblebee-sounding, Bat-Mobile-looking Buick with a John Deere steering wheel, please send it to The Save Jeff Foundation, Marion, Ohio.
The Wench
All donations are tax-deductable, and proceeds will go to The Save Jeff Foundation.
My dad died three years ago last night… it was fitting that he died at the stroke of midnight, the night clocks were to be set back…You see he was into clocks big time, When he went to Europe with Patton’s third army, when all the soldiers were given 24 hour leave to go make time with the Parisian ladies , he spent his in the black forest buying cuckoo clocks, England buying mantle clocks, clocks that chirped and played the west minister chimes every quarter hour…
Over the years he filled the house with clocks, grandfather clocks wall clocks, mantle clocks, pocket watches, here a clock there a clock everywhere a tick tock….everyday was an hourly chore just to wind those clocks… no two set at the correct time, they had to be a little off just like him…. 12 noon and the midnight hour drove everyone in the house insane with those chirping,chiming tick tocking clocks… not to mention half the block…
When the funeral arrangements were made, the family didn’t want to waste a valuable pocket watch.. But they were his clocks not theirs so I snuck one of his favorites in the watch pocket of his suit and another on his wrist… a self winding talking watch ….jiggle it and the time would be heard in a Stephen Hawkins electronic voice… guaranteed for life…a perpetual time piece, one fitting his untimely memorial….
The day of the showing came… grievers walked away from his casket with horrified looks, I didn’t make the connection, not then, not yet…
The funeral service over, the Pall Bearers carried his coffin to the hearse, they had that same shocked look… The military funeral complete with twenty one gun salute… the pastor said a few words then they started to lower the casket, that’s when all heard… “ It’s 1:42 pm” in that electronic stephen Hawkins voice…that’s when I realized all those shocked horrid looks at the time were hearing his watch announce the time, every time they touched him goodbye… he answered them back….
It's not a bad car as cars go, sure it's a flatulant bumblebee sounding batmobile looking buick with a john deere steering wheel, it was getting 37mpg before the muffler fell off, now it's nearly 40... but today I set the emergency brake only to be left with the handle and some two feet of cable in my hand... My car's losing pertinent parts faster then Michael Jackson's face.... Yet I've driven worse, I've owned a Pinto, blue, with an 8-track stereo, quadraphonic at that, doors welded shut because they fell off, ya had to do the Duke's of Hazard thing...
There's been cars I wasn't impressed with, cars I thought were hot at the time.. cars that had no excuse other than that once upon a time I was a pot head... cars that turned peoples heads.. people with mirrored sunglasses, people with shiney badges...people who were impressed I'd managed to shove a hi-performance V-8 motor in a lil blue pinto.. with an 8-track, quadraphonic, stereo...while they wrote me head turning impressive tickets...
But there's one that stands out, one that spent most it's time sitting beside the road, one that spent more miles behind a tow truck than it ever ran on under it's own power... and that was a Dodge truck. A truck allergic to H2o, which here in Ohio is all our weather consists of, rain, sleet,ice, snow, fog... humidity... Ohio, One H, 2 o's... Water, H2o...
When it got wet, that dodge wouldn't start, fart and it wouldn't start, spit and it wouldn't....I didn't even call the fire department when it caught fire, they'd just put it out with H2o and then it wouldn't have started....
What's The Worst Vehicle Ya Ever Owned, Ever Drove, Ever Rode In, Hated To Be Seen In???
The night air hung heavy with fog almost blotting out the harvest moon half risen. The only sounds were the last of autumn's leaves crunching under foot. Through the mists, echoing footsteps were heard, clippity clop clippity clop... in ever increasing nearing staccato trot. Suddenly a black shape materialized, dimmly lit by a single kerosene lantern... a black carriage drawn by a huge coal black horse, steam and froth coming from it's nostrils in the frigid night's air...
The carriage abruptly stopped at the covered bridge's entrance. This was not going as we planned. Dark caped figures, faces lost in the mist climbed out of the carriage, unseen eyes staring eeriely at where we crouched, hidden in the brush...
It was Halloween, and living so far out in bum fuck Egypt as we did, there was little to do, especially in the pranking department. But we were creative. None of that tipping over outhouses or knocking over mail boxes for us. Not even that proverbial myth, cow tipping. We had the ultimate (we thought) prank... wrapping the covered bridge down the road in toilet paper, lots of toilet paper, colored toilet paper. We were artists, and there we were watching, waiting to see how our masterpiece turned out, but we never ever expected what was about to happen next...
The figures turned enmasse and nervously approached the bridge entrance, clawing at the toilet paper streamers. In a flurry they scurried into the brush, one briefly right before us, then hiked it's skirt baring a bright full moon gleaming orange under the harvest moon's light.. and took a squat...
Out of the darkness the figures once again emerged, slowly, carefully unwrapping the masterpiece we'd wrought. With balls of TP in hand, they climbed back aboard. The carriage receded back into the night, but not before leaving us a note under the truck's windshield wipers.... "Happy Halloween, you've just been mooned by the Amish. Thanx for the tp, waste not want not.."
There he sat, muzzled, fifty pounds of log chain holding him fast. A chewed up radial was nearby. Michelins were his favorite chew toy, after my face and, of course, cats. His tail was wagging an open invitation to pet him or bait for the trap.. One things for certain he was glad to see me!
A year ago I adopted Kilo , a german shepherd, alsatian mix. I’d known him since he was a pup. We always got along well, until I got him home and his old owner left. I went to feed him in the garage that night. He’d taken over the Buick as his new home. As soon as I set his food dish down, he went Cujo on my face. It’s hard to be the alpha male when you’ve got a hundred pounds of dog hanging off your face. From owner to being owned, in the flash of a few fangs and dog breath.. Three days later in fear of what the future might hold for my face, the cats and small neighborhood children, I returned Kilo to his old owner after he was tranqued with enough darts to kill a herd of elephants. He finally let me have my car back…
Kilo went on to a new home after that, and the new victim didn’t fare much better. After being trapped on his front porch all night, Kilo wouldn’t let him in his house. Again, Kilo went back to his old drug dealing master, the only one who could handle him, the only one Kilo wanted to be with.
Since then, Kilo’s broken lose and mauled a few joggers, had a few cat snacks and just last week attacked and mauled a pit bull… the law suits are pending.
