You know how these newspapers sometimes have a help column, usually they use the term "advocate" I was thinking along the same line except we'll call it "Sucks to be you." For example, this guy applies to Bofa for a loan, the three credit agencies all return credit reports to the bank listing the guy as deceased. He notifies "sucks to be you" for help. After numerous callls in his behalf and a 500 word column, the guy has no loan, still listed as deceased with the reporting agencies and ta da "sucks to be you" case closed. Part two. Granite curbs. The guy writes in for help, seems DOT replaced the curbs in the town streets with granite and he hit the curb with his tire and ta da, sliced that mofo like butter. The "sucks to be you advocate checks around with tire shops yada yada and whoa!! there are hundreds of replacement tires sold due to being cut by granite curbs. DOT comment: "Sucks to be you" Some lady wrote in with a lost bank accoutn problem. I thought Hey, that happened to me, so I sent her an e mail. She wrote -"That's hokey". "Sucks to be me" huh? "What?" "Never mind".......
Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it had been so horrendously genetically modified in a lab that it had taken on almost human-like intelligence. Growing up in the lab, among hippy scientists and political idealists talking about the socialist revolution and liberation he thought one day, one day, he would have his freedom. Later that year, in an act of civil defiance within the chicken coop, he refused to eat the chicken feed alloted to him. As the scientists opened the cage to seize the dissident chicken, he pecked him in the eye and liberated his brothers and sisters. However, the real world was not what the chicken had expected. The rampant commercialism he saw upon his release disillusioned the young chicken to the extent that he decided to take his own life. Rising in the morning, at his usual time at 6 a.m., he leaned over and kissed his wife delicately upon the cheek, a solitary tear running down his eye as he imagined the child he knew he would never meet. The chicken stepped into the cold Boston, Mass morning, the frost chaffing his cheeks, the sleet crashing against his breast. Taking one step onto the busy dual-interstate, he closed his eyes and imagined utopia....... but, before it was all over, he reached the other side.
We awarded Grandad first prize at our family costume party for his impression of Elvis. It was only after 40 minutes of him sitting slumped on the toilet that anyone thought of calling the paramedics.
Dear Ma and Pa: I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay... practically nothing. Men got to shave but it's not so bad... there's warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you 'til noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much. We go on "route marches," which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes. Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join up before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding on in. Your loving daughter, Alice
lmao, remember snl? <iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WH_b9XwloHE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Once upon a time, a Marine Corps Pilot asked a beautiful Princess, "Will you marry me?" The Princess said, "No." Thereafter, the Marine pilot lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles, made many cruises to cool places like Key West and the Philippines and Thailand and Portugal where he screwed skinny big-titted broads and went drinking with his friends and flew around blowing shit up and having adventures and after that he came home and hunted and fished and raced cars and went to titty bars and dated women half his age and drank whiskey, beer, tequila, and rum and did shooters and Flaming Hookers and smoked cigars and never heard any bitching and never paid child support or alimony and chased cheerleaders, almost movie stars, barmaids and kept his house and guns and never got cheated on while he was at work or on cruise and all his friends and family thought he was friggin' cool as hell and he had tons of money in the bank and he left the toilet seat up. The end
After way too much to drink last night, I woke up this morning feeling like shit and lying next to the ugliest woman I'd ever seen. I quickly got dressed and was creeping towards the stairs when a little girl appeared: "Daddy, if you're going out to get the Sunday paper, can I go with you please?"
My wife cheated on me, but then I got back with her and we went to the park, had a picnic and started giggling and kissing. Then she got struck by lightning. I just love happy endings.
I was playing with my Three year old son today when he said, "Shit" I asked him if he knew what it meant, he said yes, so I made him spell it for me. He said, "S.H.I.P" I said "That's Ship, not shit, you silly little bastard"