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Moments Embarrasstis; Having a bad day? It could be worse...
Topic Started: Mar 15 2008, 05:06 AM (72 Views)
Cougar
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If you think Education is difficult....

So worth the read.....


A guy who purchased his lovely wife a Pocket Taser Stun Gun for their anniversary submitted this as a 'short' story for his alumni newsletter.



Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety. WAY TOO COOL!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!! (Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave!)

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?! !?? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. 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???

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another.
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 major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would reportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.

Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

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 triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dumbass,' reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for heck of it I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button and...



:arrowdown





:arrowdown





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HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!!




I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the sidedoor, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!
The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, 'Do it again, stupid, 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 will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three-second burst would be considered conservative.

SON-OF-A-*%#... That hurt like **% !!!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel o f the fireplace. How did they get up 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.
I'm still looking for my testicles! I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!



P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid :whistle
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Bad day for this Bank Manger once he shows this to head office - a classic!!


A 98 year old woman in the UK wrote this to her bank.

The bank manager thought it sufficiently amusing have it published in the Times.

Lets hope he also did the right thing by his customer.



Dear Sir,
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three 'nanoseconds' must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my Pension, an arrangement, which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person.

My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application for Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Solicitor, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:

1 - To make an appointment to see me.

2 - To query a missing payment.

3 - To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.

4 - To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.

5 - To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.

6 - To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.

7 - To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.)

8 - To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through to 8.

9 - To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.
Your Humble Client



(Remember: This was written by a 98 year old woman;
DOESN'T SHE MAKE YOU PROUD!)
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IF LIFE WAS MEANT TO BE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES,,
HOW COME I GOT THE SHIT SANDWICH.??




A man owned a small farm in Queensland. The Australian Taxation Office claimed he was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to interview him.

"I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them," demanded the agent.

" Well," replied the farmer, "there's my farm hand who's been with me for 3 years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board.

"The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $150 per week plus free room and board.

"Then there's the half-wit who works about 18 hours every day, and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of scotch every Saturday night.
He also sleeps with my wife occasionally."


"That's the guy I want to talk to --- the half-wit," says the agent.



"That would be me," replied the farmer."



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He may not think this is embarrassing now - but dont you just get the feeling it will come back to haunt him one day?


Long-winded MP sets 8-hour record

A record has been set for the length of an MP's speech to the Upper House of the South Australian Parliament.

Legislative Council members have sat through a speech by Greens MP Mark Parnell lasting more than eight hours, outlining his opposition to a bill to reduce workers' compensation payments.

Mr Parnell has made no apology for his long speech, saying the bill is the most important he has had to deal with.

"This government is proposing to take $1 billion out of the pockets of injured workers," he said.

Independent MP Ann Bressington also gave a five-hour speech to the Upper House against the WorkCover bill.

She finished just before 4:00am.

SA Government Minister Paul Holloway says the filibustering will not stop the WorkCover bill getting through the Opposition-controlled Upper House.

Debate has been adjourned until next month.



:thud Yes, im sure it has!
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And now for someone with no fear of embarrassment - aren't children grand?? :dogrun


The "Middle Wife" - by an Anonymous 2nd grade teacher

I've been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself,
but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second grade
classroom a few years back.

When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions
with my students. It helps them get over shyness and usually,
show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model
airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never,
ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it
in to school and talk about it, they're welcome.

Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid,
takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow
stuffed under her sweater.

She holds up a snapshot of an infant. "This is Luke, my baby brother,
and I'm going to tell you about his birthday."

"First, Mom and Dad made him as a symbol of their love, and then Dad put
a seed in my Mom's stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine
months through an umbrella cord."

She's standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I'm trying not to
laugh and wishing I had my camcorder with me. The kids are watching her
in amazement.

"Then, about two Saturdays ago, my Mom starts saying and going, 'Oh, Oh,
Oh, Oh!' Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. "She walked
around the house for, like an hour, 'Oh, oh, oh!' (Now this kid is doing
a hysterical duck walk and groaning.)

"My Dad called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn't
have a sign on the car like the Domino's man. They got my Mom to lie
down in bed like this." (Then Erica lies down with her back against the
wall.)

"And then, pop! My Mom had this bag of water she kept in there in case
he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like
psshhheew!" (This kid has her legs spread with her little hands miming
water flowing away. It was too much!)

"Then the middle wife starts saying 'push, push,' and 'breathe, breathe.
They started counting, but never even got past ten. Then, all of a
sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff that they
all said it was from Mom's play-center, so there must be a lot of toys
inside there."

Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat.
I'm sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, when it's
show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder, just in case another "Middle
Wife" comes along.



Now you have two choices...laugh and close this page or pass this along
to someone else to spread the laughs I know what I did!!!

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oh dear....... how embarrassing :jester





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Room with a view; You wouldn't want to be shy -





Posted Image - but at least there is no ventilation problmem!
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This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal: More embarrassing for ABBA I would say :lol:

... I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenteritis, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.
A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.
I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavour. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one- litre plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a litre is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return outs of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologise to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, Feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER
Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.
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Ferrari will never be quite the same :ph43r:



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