Shocking, Go to the bathroom first!!!

My First Taser Experience (make that ONLY)... MY words... LOL...

My wife is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to "Well, I have out-done myself once again." No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a Lifetime movie in the near future. Here goes...

Last weekend I spied something at the pawnshop that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 18th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl.
What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Taser gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived with no long-term
adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions) I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop! Yipeeeeee! I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to her what that burn spot on the face of her microwave is.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, etc. etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the dog) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the dog for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. He is such a sweet pup, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? It seemed reasonable to me at the time.
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser in the other. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.
All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy bitsy AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "No friggin' way!"
Friggin' way - trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, the dog looking on with his head cocked to one side as to say, "Don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing
couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-- always 20-20. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya just hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY*! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, and then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, "Do it again, do it again!"
(NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Taser, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't lodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep into your thigh like yours truly.)
SON-OF-A-* that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My glasses were on the TV across the room. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain,
and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.
By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em; sure would like to get 'em back.

Never Touchin' the Taser Again!

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(This is not my story, got it off an email)                 &nb sp;            WAX is NOT your friend
CAUTION: Be prepared to laugh out loud... I laughed till I almost cried as I could just see this happening! (And I feel it too!)

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal- The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair, and now... the wax.

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 I 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.

(Y A 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 me 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 one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my *hoo-hoo* and stretching down to t he inside of my butt cheek.

(Yes, it was a long strip)
I inhale deeply and brace myself... RRRRIIIPPP!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!... OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!!!!

Another deep breathe and RRIIPP!!

Everything is swirly and spotted.

I think I may pass out... 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.

I touch. I am touching wax.

CRAP!

I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, wh ich i s now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake... remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet?

I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.

DANG!!!!!

I hear the slamming of a cell door.

"hoo-hoo"? Sealed shut!

Butt?? 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 th ing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together a n d 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 cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few moths 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 who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or who-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. YE AH!!!! RIGHT! !!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various sol ut ions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then 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 counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace... the lotion the 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 ens out of my friend.

It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.

"IT WORKS!! It works!!"

I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice t o my grief and despair... THE HAIR IS STILL THERE... ALL OF IT!!!!

So I recklessly sh ave 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 color.... Now thats funny...... Notttt.

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Chili Cook Off
If you can read this whole story without laughing then there's no hope
for you. I was crying by the end. Note: Please take time to read this
slowly.
(I've read this probably 5 times and it never fails to reduce me to
tears of laughter). Hope it does the same for you!!!
If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third
judge is even better. For those of you who have lived in Texas , you
know how true this is. They actually have a Chili Cook Off about the
time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major portion of a parking
lot at the San Antonio City Park .. Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chili
Taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield , IL ...
Frank: 'Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili
 cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I
happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions
to the Coors Light truck, when th e call came in. I was assured by the
other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that
spicy and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the
tasting, so I accepted.'

Here are the scorecard notes from the event:
*****************************************************
CHILI # 1 - MIKE'S MANIAC MONSTER CHILI...
Judge # 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 - Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) -- Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could
remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the
> > flames out. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
> > *****************************************************
> > CHILI # 2 - AUSTIN 'S AFTERBURNER CHILI...
> > Judge # 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
> > Judge #2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken
> > seriously.
> > Judge # 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what
> > I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who
> > wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer
> > when they saw the look on my face.
> > *****************************************************
> > CHILI # 3 - FRED'S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI...
> > Judge # 1 -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
> > Judge # 2 -- A bit salty, good use of peppers.
> > Judge # 3 -- Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels
> > like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get
> > me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my
> > backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced from
> > all of the beer.
> > *****************************************************
> >
> > CHILI # 4 - BUBBA'S BLACK MAGIC...
> > Judge # 1 -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
> > Judge # 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or
> > other mild foods not much of a chili.
> > Judge # 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable
> > to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beermaid,
> > was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-LB woman is starting

> > to look HOT. Just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an
> > aphrodisiac?
> > *****************************************************
> > CHILI # 5 LISA'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER...
> >
> > Judge # 1 -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding
> > considerable kick. Very impressive.
> > Judge # 2 -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must
> > admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
> > Judge # 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I
> > can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed
> > paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her
> > chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by
> > pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my
> > lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop
> > screaming. Screw those rednecks.
> > *****************************************************
> > CHILI # 6 - VERA'S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY...
> >
> > Judge # 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of
> > spices and peppers.
> > Judge # 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and
> > garlic. Superb.
> > Judge # 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous,
> > sulfuric flames. I shit on myself when I farted and I'm worried it will
> > eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except
> > that Sally. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a
> > snow cone.
> > *****************************************************
> > CHILI # 7 - SUSAN'S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI...
> >
> > Judge # 1 -- A mediocre chili with to o much r eliance on canned peppers.
> > Judge # 2 -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of
> > chili peppers at the last moment. **I should take note that I am worried
> > about Judge # 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing
> > uncontrollably.
> > Judge # 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I
> > wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds
> > like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which
> > slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my
> > shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've
> > decided to stop breathing it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting
> > any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the
> > 4-inch hole in my stomach.
> > ***************************************** ******* *****
> > CHILI # 8 - BIG TOM'S TOENAIL CURLING CHILI...
> >
> > Judge # 1 -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too
> > bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
> > Judge # 2 -- This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild
> > nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted,
> > passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself.
> > Not sure if he's going to make it. poor feller, wonder how he'd have
> > reacted to really hot chili?
> > Judge # 3 - No Report

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Medium sized pumpkin (4 pounds) 1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef 1/3 cup chopped green pepper 3/4 cup chopped celery 3/4 cup chopped onion 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon pepper 1/4 cup soy sauce 2 tablespoon brown sugar 1 (4-ounce) can mushrooms 1 (10.5-ounce) can condensed cream of chicken soup 2 cups cooked rice Black olives Steamed carrot Whole cloves Fresh parsley

1. Using a sharp knife, cut lid from pumpkin and scoop out pumpkin seeds and excess membrane with a scraping tool.
2. In a large skillet, combine ground beef, green pepper, celery and onion; cook over medium heat until ground beef is browned. Add next seven ingredients to skillet. Mix well and place mixture into pumpkin cavity.
3. Place lid on pumpkin. Place pumpkin on a foil-lined cookie sheet and bake at 350*F (175*C) for 1 1/2 hours.
4. Just before serving, embellish pumpkin by placing (with toothpicks) black olives to make eyes, a steamed carrot to make a nose and whole cloves to make a mouth. Use fresh parsley leaves to make hair around the opening.

To serve, scoop out part of the baked pumpkin, along with the meat mixture, onto each plate.

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Bubba died in a fire and his body was burned pretty badly…

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When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. 

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. 
You get in to find the d oor won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.' 

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.' 

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more. 

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah , the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail 

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that t here was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.' 

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused th at it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. 

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. 

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. 

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.' 

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?' 

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door! 

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately! 

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I have spent the last 6 hours in putor mayhem! Just getting everything out of the boxes was like a feat itself! and this Vista thing is soooooo different that XP, jury is still out on wheter I like it or not. Took so long to get going had to hit the laptop to make me feel better! Anyway, I think I shut down and restarted more today than I have in a couple of months...geesh!  BUT I did learn how to do a "patch" thingy cuz the moniter driver was missing something so it could do this pivot thingy...lol  I don't even understand myself at this point so that sentence doesn't make sense!  My hat is off to chicken trucker and wiseone and all the people behind them that understand the dynamics of computers!!!   

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I am watching that msnbc show called "Predator Raw" "the unseen tapes" where they have these stings for internet porn live. I guess pretend young girls talk online as 15 year olds and arrange to meet these guys where they are questioned by the host guy and then arrested by police when they step outside! How cool is this!!! (although some people with issues might call it entrapment...~~~~thumbing nose to them) Just saw a white semi truck pull up (guy said he was a company driver....no job any more I bet!) These guys turn into stammering idiots with their hands almost caught in the cookie jar (so to speak) The host, can't think of his name, has full documentation of their online conversations and the b.s. that they try to give to get out of this is almost hysterical! Youth director from a church, high ranking military etc. All walks of life! What are these people thinking??? I think maybe they ought to do these in every city and every state, get all these potential predators off the streets (looked up pedophiles, molesters, etc. not sure what to call them) Anyway, gonna go finish watching the show. Just needed to vent!

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Well, I had snakes around my wood pile that were driving me nuts cuz they blocked the path to the pool soooooooo brillant me got some of the "snake be gone" granules (they're garden snakes, harmless so hubby says but look like giant cobra's with fangs to me!!!) Before we left on vacation I sprinkled it around the wood pile like the bottle said hoping they would move out! They did!!!!  Right into my garage!!!!!! I opened the garage door and there they were hanging on that metal track that rests on the floor when the door is closed! Talk about freaking out and cussing in seven different languages! I have put myself under house arrest and am not leaving until hubby gets home whenever to remove them!!!  Two of them even had the nerve to drop down when I was freaking out which made me do the freak dance out of the garage! The nerve! I can handle swimming with sharks in the water and even trying to catch them but noway to snakes. Trapped in the house I am! Send help! LOL

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