A man is walking home alone late one foggy Halloween night, when behind him he hears:


BUMP...



BUMP...



BUMP...




Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.



BUMP...




BUMP...




BUMP...




Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.




FASTER...



FASTER...




BUMP...




BUMP....




BUMP....



He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, rushes in, slams and locks the door behind him. However, the casket crashes through his door, with the lid of the casket clapping.


clappity-BUMP...



clappity-BUMP..


clappity-BUMP...


on his heels, as the terrified man runs.



Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, he locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.



With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door.








Bumping and clapping toward him.





The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws the cough syrup at the casket...


and,

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(hopefully you're ready for this!!!)

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.PLEASE Don't hate me!!!
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Okay. Here's what happens
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The coffin stops.

Very Good. But I much prefer the ORIGINAL version.....

A woman, heavily pregnant with triplets enters a bank to withdraw some cash.
As she was standing in the queue, two masked robbers burst into the bank, and demanded money from the cashier. On their way out, she was not fast enough in moving out of their way, and, unfortunately, one of the robbers shot her three times in the stomach.
She awoke in hospital to find that the swelling in her belly was no longer there. Hysterically, she started screaming for her children.
The doctor quickly reassured her that her children had been saved, and that there was nothing to worry about; apart from one thing.
Each of her children had been hit by the bullets, and they had lodged in inoperable areas. But she need not worry, because, during the passage of time, the bullets would dislodge and exit in a normal fashion.

12 years later, the first of the womans children, a daughter, came to her and said,
"Mum, I'��ve done something that I can't explain."��
"��What is that?"
asked her mother.
"I went to the toilet, and this came out."
It was, of course, a bullet.
Her mother explained what had happened 12 years earlier, and not to worry.
Everything would be fine.
A couple of weeks later, her second child, also a daughter, came to her mother and said,
"Mummy, I've done something I can'��t explain, or understand."
Her mother said,
"��What. You went to the toilet for a pee, and a bullet came out?"
"Yes."
Replied her daughter.
Once again, the mother explained what had happened, and that everything would be fine, and that she had nothing to be concerned about.
A couple of days later, her third child, a son, came to his mother and said,
"Mum, I've done something bad!"
His mother said,
“I know what. You went to the toilet for a pee and a bullet came out?"
"No."
replied her son.
"I was jerking off, and I shot the cat!"

Lynx

A rather confident man walks into a bar and takes a seat next to a very attractive woman.
He gives her a quick glance, then casually looks at his watch for a moment.
The woman notices this and asks,
'Is your date running late?'
'No',
he replies,
'I just bought this state-of-the-art watch and I was just testing it.'
The intrigued woman says,
'A state-of-the-art watch? What's so special about it?'
'It uses alpha waves to telepathically talk to me,'
he explains.
'What's it telling you now?'
'Well, it says you're not wearing any panties...'
The woman giggles and replies,
'Well it must be broken then because I am wearing panties!'
The man explains,
'Damn thing must be an hour fast.'

A woman goes into a Fishing n tackle shop to buy a rod and reel for her grandson's birthday.
She doesn't know which one to get, so she just picks one and goes over to the counter.
The salesman is standing there, wearing dark glasses.
She asks,
"Excuse me. Can you tell me anything about this rod and reel?"
"Madam, I'm completely blind; but if you'll drop it on the counter, I can tell you everything you need to know from the sound it makes."
he replies.
She doesn't believe him but drops it on the counter anyway.
"That's a six-foot Shakespeare graphite rod with a Diawa reel and 10-lb..Test line. It's a good all around combination, and it's actually on sale this week for $44." said the salesman.
"That's amazing that you can tell all that, just by the sound of it dropping on the counter.
"I'll take it!"
she said smiling.
As she opens her purse, her credit card drops on the floor.
"Oh, that sounds like a Visa card,"
says the salesman.
As the lady bends down to pick up the card, she accidentally farts..
At first she's really embarrassed, but then realises there is no way the blind salesman would tell exactly who had farted.
The man rings up the sale and says,
"That'll be $57 please."
The woman is totally confused and asks,
"Didn't you tell me it was on sale for $44.
How did you get $57?"
"Well the Duck Caller is a ten bucks, and the Fish Bait is three."
he replied

As we progress through the year 2014, I want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year.
I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a bathroom door without using a paper towel, or have the waitress put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking one's nose.

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public restroom.

I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about rat poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every drinks can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money, but that will change once I receive the $150,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.

I can't have a drink in a bar because I'll wake up in a bathtub full of ice with my kidneys gone.

I can't eat at KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes, feet or feathers.

I can't use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains. (TRUE)

I no longer buy gas without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer doesn't crawl in my back seat when I'm filling up.


I no longer use Cling Wrap in the microwave because it causes seven different types of cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face. Disfiguring me for life.

I no longer go to the movies because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS when I sit down.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

And I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan ...

I no longer buy cookies from Woolies since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big black snake could be lurking under the seat and cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I can't ever pick up a €2.00 coin dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting to grab me as I bend over.

I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the Violin Spider and my hand will fall off.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon, and the fleas from 120 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's best friend's beautician . .

Oh, by the way.....

A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.

Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.



P. S.: I now keep my toothbrush in the living room, because I was told by e-mail that water splashes over 6 ft. out of the toilet.




NOW YOU ALL HAVE YOURSELVES A VERY GOOD DAY......AND A HEALTHY LIFE.

Why is this in the humour section?

1. Man-Flu is more painful than childbirth.
This is an irrefutable scientific fact*.
*(Based on a survey of over 100,000 men.)

2. Man-Flu is not 'just a cold'.
It is a condition so severe that the germs from a single Man-Flu sneeze could wipe out entire tribes of people living in the rainforest.
And probably loads of monkeys too.

3. Women do not contract Man-Flu.
At worst they suffer from what is medically recognised as a
'Mild Girly Sniffle'
which, if a man caught, he would still be able to run, throw a ball, tear the phone book in half and compete in all other kinds of manly activities.

4. Men do not 'moan' when they have Man-Flu.
They emit involuntary groans of agony that are entirely in proportion to the unbearable pain they are in.

5. Full recovery from Man-Flu will take place much quicker if their simple requests for care, sympathy and regular cups of tea are met.
Is that really so much to ask? Florence Nightingale would have done it

6. More men die each year from MFN (Man-Flu Neglect) than lots and lots of other things. (Like rabbit attacks or choking on toast).

7. Men suffering from Man-Flu want nothing more than to get out of bed and come to work, but they are too selfless to risk spreading this awful condition amongst their friends and colleagues.
In this sense, they are the greatest heroes this country has ever known.

8. In 1982 scientists managed to simulate the agonising symptoms of full blown Man-Flu in a female chimp.
She became so ill that her head literally fell off.

9. Man-Flu germs are more powerful than He-Man, The Thundercats and The A-Team combined. They are too strong for weak, nasty tasting 'lady medicines' like Lemsip, so don't bother trying to force them on a victim of Man-Flu.

10. While it may seem like a Man-Flu sufferer is just lying around enjoying
'Diagnosis Murder'
it is a commonly recognised medical fact that the exact pitch and frequency of Dick Van Dyke's voice has remarkable soothing powers.

Every 27 seconds in this country one man at least is struck down by Man-Flu.
Women, all we ask is that each of you offers them a cup of tea, some kind words and your undivided attention and care.
Then maybe, just maybe, we'll beat this monstrous disease together.

I always believed that algebra was dangerous.
Now there is proof

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:
"Maybe should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet."
So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.
(YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees.
("Cold wax,"
yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!
OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this!
Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I
drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....
RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....
OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and
RIPP!
Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...must stay conscious.
Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it.
Where is the hair???
WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip...it's not! I touch. I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself
"Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!"
What can I do to melt the wax?
Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
*WRONG!!!!!!!*
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to
torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water.
Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter
"So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal it she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?"
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions.
I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor . Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counselling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving
grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
The scream probably woke the kids and scared the **** out of my friend.
Its sooo painful, but I really don't care.
"IT WORKS!! It works !!"
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.
I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....
THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair colour......

Dear Abby,

My husband has a long record of money problems.
He runs up huge credit card bills and at the end of the month, if I try to pay them off, he shouts at me, saying I am stealing his money.
He says pay the minimum and let our kids worry about the rest, but already we can hardly keep up with the interest.
Also he has been so arrogant and abusive toward our neighbours that most of them no longer speak to us.
The few that do are an odd bunch to whom he has been giving a lot of expensive gifts, running up our bills even more.
Also, he has gotten religious.
One week he hangs out with Catholics and the next with people who say the Pope is the Anti-Christ, and the next he's with Muslims.
Finally, the last straw.
He's demanding that before anyone can be in the same room with him, they must sign a loyalty oath.
It's just so horribly creepy!
Can you help?
Signed,

Lost

Dear Lost,

Suck it up and stop whining, Michelle.
You're getting to live in the White House for free, travel the world, and have others pay for everything for you.
You can divorce the jerk any time you want.
The rest of us are stuck with the idiot for at least another year.

Signed,
Abby

An attorney arrived home late, after a very tough day trying to get a stay of execution.
His last minute plea for clemency to the governor had failed and he was feeling worn out and depressed.
As soon as he walked through the door at home, his wife started on him about,
'What time of night to be getting home is this?
Where have you been?
Dinner is cold and I'm not reheating it'.
And on and on and on.
Too shattered to play his usual role in this familiar ritual, he poured himself a shot of whiskey and headed off for a long hot soak in the bathtub, pursued by the predictable sarcastic remarks as he dragged himself up the stairs.
While he was in the bath, the phone rang.
The wife answered and was told that her husband's client, James Wright, HAD been granted a stay of execution.
Wright would not be hanged tonight.
Finally, realizing what a terrible day he must have had, she decided to go up stairs and give him the good news.
As she opened the bathroom door, she was greeted by the sight of her husband, bent over naked, drying his legs and feet.
'They're not hanging Wright tonight,'
she said.
He whirled around and screamed,
'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN, DON'T YOU EVER STOP!!!?'

Something to keep in mind when you're doing all that yard work

Garden Grass Snakes also known as Garter Snakes (Thamnophissirtalis) can be dangerous. Yes, grass snakes, NOT rattlesnakes.
Here's why:

A couple in Sweetwater, Texas, had a lot of potted plants. During a recent cold spell, the wife was bringing a lot of them indoors to protect them from a possible freeze.
It turned out that a little green garden grass snake was hidden in one of the plants. When it had warmed up, it slithered out and the wife saw it go under the sofa.
She let out a very loud scream.
The husband (who was taking a shower) ran out into the living room naked to see what the problem was.
She told him there was a snake under the sofa.

He got down on the floor on his hands and knees to look for it. About that time the family dog came and cold-nosed him on the behind. He thought the snake had bitten him, so he screamed and fell over on the floor.
His wife thought he had had a heart attack, so she covered him up, told him to lie still and called an ambulance.
The attendants rushed in, would not listen to his protests, loaded him on the stretcher, and started carrying him out.
About that time, the snake came out from under the sofa and the Emergency Medical Technician saw it and dropped his end of the stretcher. That's when the man broke his leg and why he is still in the hospital.

The wife still had the problem of the snake in the house, so she called on a neighbor who volunteered to capture the snake. He armed himself with a rolled-up newspaper and began poking under the couch. Soon he decided it was gone and told the woman, who sat down on the sofa in relief.
But while relaxing, her hand dangled in between the cushions, where she felt the snake wriggling around.
She screamed and fainted, the snake rushed back under the sofa.
The neighbour man, seeing her lying there passed out, tried to use CPR to revive her.

The neighbour's wife, who had just returned from shopping at the grocery store, saw her husband's mouth on the woman's mouth and slammed her husband in the back of the head with a bag of canned goods, knocking him out and cutting his scalp to a point where it needed stitches.
The noise woke the woman from her dead faint and she saw her neighbour lying on the floor with his wife bending over him, so she assumed that the snake had bitten him. She went to the kitchen and got a small bottle of whiskey, and began pouring it down the man's throat.
By now, the police had arrived.


***** Ok Breathe here *****


They saw the unconscious man, smelled the whiskey, and assumed that a drunken fight had occurred. They were about to arrest them all, when the women tried to explain how it all happened over a little green snake.
The police called an ambulance, which took away the neighbour and his sobbing wife.
Now, the little snake again crawled out from under the sofa and one of the policemen drew his gun and fired at it. He missed the snake and hit the leg of the end table.
The table fell over, the lamp on it shattered and, as the bulb broke, it started a fire in the drapes.
The other policeman tried to beat out the flames, and fell through the window into the yard on top of the family dog who, startled, jumped out and raced into the street, where an oncoming car swerved to avoid it and smashed into the parked police car.
Meanwhile, neighbours saw the burning drapes and called in the fire department.
The firemen had started raising the fire ladder when they were halfway down the street. The rising ladder tore out the overhead wires, put out the power, and disconnected the telephones in a ten-square city block area (but they did get the house fire out).
Time passed! Both men were discharged from the hospital, the house was repaired, the dog came home, the police acquired a new car and all was right with their world.
A while later they were watching TV and the weatherman announced a cold snap for that night.
The wife asked her husband if he thought they should bring in their plants for the night?

And that's when he shot her!

Conditions were perfect...12 below, no feeling in the toes, basic numbness all over...
The
'Tell me when we're having fun'
kind of day.
One of the women in the group complained to her husband that she was in dire need of a rest room.
He told her not to worry, that he was sure there was relief waiting at the top of the lift in the form of a powder room for female skiers in distress.
He was wrong, of course, and the pain did not go away.
If you've ever had nature hit its panic button in you, then you know that a temperature of 12 below doesn't help matters.
With time running out, the woman weighed her options. Her husband, picking up on the intensity of the pain, suggested that since she was wearing an all-white ski outfit, she should go off into the woods and no one would even notice.
He assured her,
"The white will provide more than adequate camouflage."
So she headed for the tree line, began lowering her ski pants and proceeded to do her thing.
If you've ever parked on the side of a slope, then you know there is a right way and wrong way to set your skis so you don't move.
Yup, you got it!!!
She had them positioned the wrong way.
Steep slopes are not forgiving...even during the most embarrassing moments.
Without warning, the woman found herself skiing backward, out-of-control, racing through the trees...somehow missing all of them and onto another slope.
Her derriere and the reverse side were still bare, her pants down around her knees, and she was picking up speed all the while.
She continued backwards, totally out-of-control, creating an unusual vista for the other skiers.
The woman skied back under the lift and finally collided violently with a pylon.
The bad news was that she broke her arm and was unable to pull up her ski pants.
At long last her husband arrived, putting an end to her nudie show, then summoned the ski patrol.
They transported her to a hospital.
While in the emergency room, a man with an obviously broken leg was put in the bed next to hers.
"So, how'd you break your leg?"
she asked, making small talk.
"It was the stupidest thing you ever saw,"
he said.
"I was riding up this ski lift today and suddenly, I couldn't believe my eyes!
There was this crazy woman skiing backward, out-of-control, down the mountain, with her bare a** hanging out of her pants.
I leaned over to get a better look and fell out of the lift. ..
So, how'd you break your arm?

THIS IS AN ACTUAL CUSTOMER REVIEW FROM A MAN ON AMAZON.CO.UK AFTER USING VEET HAIR REMOVAL CREAM FOR MEN.

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.
Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...
Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was.
I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom.
Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen.
I didn't have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.
Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of the meat and two veg.
Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair.
Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.
I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid off and positioned it under me.
The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned.
Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon.
I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so.
I took a handful of them and an tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse.
This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.
The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering “ooooohhh that feels good”
Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction.
I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…so to sum it up,
VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect.

We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable.

No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
This weekend, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating.
I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day.
By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
That morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
"You know where the button is,"
I protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam.
"Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!"
she persisted.
"What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
There was a meaningful pause and then,
"C'mon, it'll only take you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button.
It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs.
She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a
"fight or flight"
syndrome.
Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of
"been-there, done-that"
paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter......and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all.
This morning I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury.
I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.
"What's the matter?"
One asked,
"Cat got your tongue?"
If they only knew!

Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
Hope your week is better than mine!

I'm unsure what possessed me to venture further into the unknown world of baking.
I assume it was a combination of my previous mastering of TV dinners combined with a distorted, optimistic delusion concerning my domestic capabilities.
By no means did it have anything to do with the happy hour special at my local bar....
Right!
I found myself wandering down the isles at the local grocery store searching for that one mystery dish that would propel me into the category of a culinary expert.
You know what I mean; we all look for it.
Fortunately my mechanical aptitude was high so this surely couldn't be beyond my super human skill level.
I blame the store.
There should be a large picture of a man with a circle and slash through it in front of the baking goods isle.
Instead they conveniently locate it right next to the milk so you're drawn in by some invisible, magnetic force.
Oh they're good...they're reallllly gooood.
I'm not a complete cooking stooge.
I had the foresight to check the parts required listed on the box of delicious chocolate cake I had chosen.
Eggs, pffft, oil, pfffft.
This thing was going to just about cook itself!
I could already visualize myself wearing a tall white hat and coat and presenting it to the queen while the crowd applauded. Man I'm good !
I popped open my back door which led directly into the kitchen. Kids could have played in the shower being sprayed by my salvitory glands as I anxiously opened my cake box and set the ingredients on my counter.
Hey wait a damn minute, where's the damn frosting?
The picture showed frosting!
I can't believe they got me...those b*stards!
How was I supposed to know all that frosting above the cake mix at the store wasn't for something else?
There should have been a big label stamped across the front of the box mix that stated,
"FROSTING NOT INCLUDED".
Apparently The Betty Crocker Corp wasn't as sophisticated as the companies that developed products that required batteries!
I closed the door and soon returned wearing an evil grin and holding the circular can of chocolate delight.
I will win this battle.... I willll !!
"Toss ingredients in bowl and mix until smooth?"
Mix?
With a mixer?
Hmmmm...
I've seen those things before.
They look kinda like a drill.
I'm sure I have a large drill bit that would eventually do the job.
Wait, I have a blender!
Blender, mixer, same thing!
Another fifteen minutes and I had the ol blender dug out,
Washed up, and completely decob webbed.
After dumping in the darn cake crap in I popped er on and stared as the eggs quickly dissolved and the powder junk just kind of hovered on top of the mess.
WTF?
What kind of handicap blender is this?
With a wooden spoon in hand I attacked!
Push, jam, stir, push...brown crud flying all over the counter.
I hate cake!
Finally something developed having the consistency of thick mud so I dumped it in a pan and jammed it into my preheated oven.
A few more minutes and it's chocolate heaven time.
Thank God it's already dark outside.
"DING"
Ready, ready, ready!
Yes, yes, yes!
Mmmmmmm, mmmmmm, mmmmmm..
I can't wait!
Let me just pop er out of the old oven and....
"OH NOOOOO".
As the oven door opened the light came on revealing a dis-conformed mess that resembled a hill.
One side of my cake was almost running over the edge of the pan, while the other side was paper thin.
Why didn't the directions say to level my oven??
Where's Betty??
I'm going to strangle the witch!!
They should have had this box from hell next to the hard liquor After letting the cake and myself cool down for awhile I smeared my damn frosting on my damn cake and ate the damn stuff.
Forget the queen, I hate queens anyways.
Now I know why they sell cakes already made....less incidents of baking suicides !!!
I went to bed !

So,
I've started spamming Nigerian email addresses with this:

From: ZMappDistributionServices.com

Have 50 boxes of ZMapp experimental Ebola vaccine.
Need to send to you.
Please send deeds and all legal documents for your property to me so I know where to send them.

All the best
ZMapp Distribution Services

We agreed to meet for a picnic on Saturday by the river.
Damn! The green patch in the field by the river where we had planned to meet was covered in cow pats.
On Sunday we agreed to meet at the little pub further down the river.
Sunday arrived, as did we.
Unfortunately, the pub was overrun by bikers on their way to their annual Hells Angel meeting.
On Monday we agreed to meet for coffee in the village cafe.
Sadly. Sunday night brought one of the stormiest nights in years, and the river level rose overnight putting the village cafe in danger of being flooded.
Tuesday. River levels had dropped.
We agreed to meet on the cycle path with our bicycles and to take a ride.
Unfortunately the river levels had not dropped sufficiently and the cycle path was still underwater,
On Wednesday The sun shone once again.
We agreed to go the village cinema.
DAMNIT!!!! The rivers water levels were STILL to high and it flooded the cinema generator room.
Thursday we decided not to meet as you were meeting your girlfriends.
Friday we agreed to go berry picking by the river.
Curses.
Because of the recent floods, all the bushes were washed clean of any fruit.
On Saturday the river levels were back to normal.
The sky was blue...
The sun was shining...
EVERYTHING was perfect.....
Not a cow in sight
No bikers
The village cafe was once again open for business
Friendly bike riders rode by, waved and said
'Hi'
The cinema was once again open for business and the latest Hollywood blockbuster was premiering
Your girlfriends were meeting THEIR boyfriends
Berries on the other side of the river had survived the recent bad weather.
We agreed to meet WITH our bicycles on the bridge by the cafe crossing the river.
You would bring the picnic and I would purchase drinks from the pub.
As I waited outside the pub you appeared on your bike wearing the beautiful blue dress you had on the day we first met.
As you rode over that bridge a Hells Angel who had stayed on in the village after the meeting was going the other way.
Sadly he did not see you as he sped over the bridge skidded through an earlier laid cow pat, knocking you off your bike over the bridge and through the berry bushes into the river.
AFTER I had helped you OUT of the river we went into the pub were the landlord kindly allowed you to dry yourself off.
His wife, also, kindly lent you a pair of jeans and a blouse while your dress dried off.
The local handyman retrieved your bike from the river and the Hells Angel paid for the repairs.
We then decided to go the cinema.
WHEN we got there, we discovered that the film had been cancelled as the projectionist had been taken to hospital due to watching the antics over the course of the week of a couple from a tree when the branch of the tree he had been hiding in had broken and he had fallen into the river, and he had been admitted to hospital suffering a fractured shoulder.
We agreed to meet on Sunday next to the Nuclear power station next to the river.......!!!!!!!!
WHAT could possibly go wrong meeting by the river?