Metallica - Enter Sandman
One of my favorite song by Metallica! Enjoy the lyrics (you probably have to cli!
Showing posts with label Funnies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funnies. Show all posts
Poor girl... but nice try!
Found this on the web... thought it was hilarious! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did...You can actually see this on the Seattle craigslist by clicking here.
Vasectomy: $400. Speechless look on her face: priceless.
Date: 2007-02-06, 2:24PM PST
I'll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:
I got a vasectomy.
I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.
I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.
We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.
Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby". She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.
At this point, I'm just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri.
So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again. I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.
Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically.
It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready.
I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.
She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?"
Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.
I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.
I tell her simply, "You're screwed".
Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.
I continue. "I am sterile"
Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women's logic. "You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it."
I hold up the letter and the test results. "Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine."
This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. "Bullshit, those are fakes."
I was ready for that. "No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine."
I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.
I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.
Epilogue -
I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.
The Moral of the Story -
Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.
PostingID: 274495936
I got a vasectomy.
I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.
I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.
We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.
Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby". She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.
At this point, I'm just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri.
So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again. I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.
Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically.
It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready.
I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.
She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?"
Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.
I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.
I tell her simply, "You're screwed".
Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.
I continue. "I am sterile"
Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women's logic. "You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it."
I hold up the letter and the test results. "Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine."
This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. "Bullshit, those are fakes."
I was ready for that. "No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine."
I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.
I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.
Epilogue -
I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.
The Moral of the Story -
Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.
- Location: Manhood
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Entertaining Music Videos...
Just wanted to share these cause I found them funny.Nickleback - Rock Star (Lots of guests in the video):
KSE - Holy Diver Remake (So fucking funny!)
Great Mushroom Article
Notes on the Ingestion of Amanita MuscariaBy Lawrence Millman and Tonya Haff
Reprinted from the SOMA
Boiled to remove its toxins, Amanita muscaria can usually be eaten with impunity. David Arora serves it on his forays; Russians call it mukhumor and delight in its nutty flavor; and the Japanesereputedly prefer it to Boletus edulis. Recently, Lawrence Millman and Tonya Haff had an experience of A. muscaria somewhat different from the purely culinary experience they intended to have.
Tonya cut two large (18 x 8 cm) muscaria buttons into ¼" strips and placed them in two quarts of boiling water. The mushrooms were cooked for 3 ½ minutes (they were actually in the boiling water for 5 minutes), and after they were drained, both of us sampled a few pieces. We found the taste pleasant, indeed agreeably nutty, although Lawrence thought they also had a slightly metallic aftertaste. We browned several more slices in olive oil and found them quite pleasant, too. The remaining slices were breaded, then browned. Altogether we ate almost all of the two buttons.
Twenty minutes later both of us started to feel distinctly "off." Lawrence found himself staring vacantly at some LBMs we were trying to identify. Tonya noticed that he was holding his stomach and looking uncomfortable. Once we agreed that muscaria was the culprit, we called David Arora and asked him what we should do. "Take notes!" David said. So what follows are the notes we took during the experience:
18:56. We ate A. muscaria at 6:00PM. Tonya was initially feeling hot, but now she's feeling cold. Her sense of smell is heightened. Lawrence can't seem to concentrate on identifying our mushrooms.
19:09. Tonya is slurring her words. Her pupils are dilated, and there's a lump in her throat. She finds the cedar-like odor of Camarophyllus russo-coriaceus quite cloying. Her upper lip is sweaty. Her stomach is mildly queasy, while Lawrence's stomach is very queasy.
19:15. Tonya's fingers are clammy. She says her arms are unusually goose bumpy. The cedar-like odor of the waxy cap is really bothering her now. Music is bothering her, too ("Bob Dylan driving me up a wall"). Lawrence retreats to the bathroom.
19:23. Having vomited up some of the muscaria, Lawrence says he feels a bit better. Or at least his stomach feels a bit better. The rest of him feels buzzed and more or less out of it. He also feels quite hot.
19:27. Tonya is experiencing a heightened sense of touch. Lawrence's fingers on her forehead seem to be burning a cold hole in her. There's an acute pain in her eye, but it soon goes away. Lawrence still has a slight buzz, very different, he says, from the experience of being drunk. He remarks that he's glad he's not a Siberian shaman. (Note: Siberian shamans eat muscaria for ritualistic purposes.)
19:38. Our "highs" seem to have stabilized. Lawrence is again trying to identify some of our mushrooms. Tonya says she feels almost normal, whereas Lawrence says he can't feel normal because he isn't.
19:53. Tonya is starting to feel a bit hungry. Lawrence's head feels like foam.
20:00. Tonya feels dizzy when she rolls her eyes. Also sort of sleepy. Lawrence succeeds in identifying a Mycena.
20:30. Tonya's feeling clumsy and poorly coordinated, but otherwise okay. Lawrence can't seem to dial a friend's phone number, and likewise can't close the sliding door without getting his hand stuck in it. Also, he says the mushrooms we're trying to I.D. are talking to him.
21:15. Lawrence has been silent for a while, listening to the mushrooms. All of a sudden he's very talkative, although he's not making much sense. "Smooth circus" --neither of us knows what that means. "Mushrooms are people, too," he says.
21:29. Both of us feel euphoric, Lawrence especially so --he says he hasn't felt this good in years. We decide to go out to dinner, but first we call David Arora to tell him that we're all right. "Whatever you do," David says, "don't drive." So we appoint Tonya's roommate Mikey the designated driver.
21:54. At a Chinese restaurant. Tonya thinks our food has a consciousness of its own as well as a texture that's "very real." She also thinks everyone in the restaurant is high, and that Lawrence likes Republicans, although he's earlier made it clear that he doesn't.
22:10. Lawrence is drinking a beer and says he can relate to the bottle, that the bottle can relate to him, and that the two of them are actually enjoying each other's company.
22:15. Our food feels very textured, and we seem able to commune with each grain of rice. We also feel that we're moving fast, but that our thoughts are moving slowly. Lawrence keeps dropping his chopsticks. Coordination is difficult for both of us.
22:10. Both of us seem to be suffering from short term memory loss. Lawrence feels that his critical sense, usually very much in evidence, has gone on vacation. The word "euphoria" keeps popping up in our conversation.
At 23:00 we leave the restaurant. Lawrence says that objects have no meaning, but simply exist. We see a dead deer on the road, and he says the difference between a dead deer and a living one is negligible. Tonya still feels elated, exuberant but at the same time relaxed. She falls asleep around midnight without any difficulty. For the next three days her right ring finger tingles when she hits it with her thumb, but otherwise she notices no symptoms relating to the muscaria ingestion. Lawrence has a deep sleep and wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed.
Later we asked David Arora why we experienced the ups and downs of an A. muscaria trip when all we'd wanted todo was experience the culinary delights of a muscaria hors d'oeuvre. His explanation: that the mushrooms were far too big for the pot in which they were boiled, with the result that only as much of the toxins were dissolved in the water as the water itself could hold. Thus our trips included a certain disarray of the senses, but not the full disarray experienced by Siberian shamans; and thus, too, our trips did not require a different sort of trip --i.e., to the hospital.
Editor’s Note: As they say on TV, “Do Not Try This in Your Own Kitchen”. For a great culinary experience, I think I will stick with so many good and safe edibles.
Funny News Articles
Since I feel really lazy this morning and don't feel like writing up about how much I hate cold mornings (37 Degrees to be exact), I'm going to post some pictures to get your morning going. Enjoy!
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