In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
MARGARET ATWOOD
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About a year had passed since my amicable divorce, and I decided it was time to start dating again. Unsure how to begin, I thought I’d scan the personals column of my local newspaper. I came across three men who seemed like they’d be promising candidates. A couple of days later, I was checking my messages and discovered one from my ex-husband. “I was over visiting the kids yesterday,” he said. “While I was there I happened to notice you had circled some ads in the paper. Don’t bother calling the guy in the second column. I can tell you right now it won’t work out. That guy is me.”
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During World War II my parents had planned a romantic Valentine’s Day wedding. Suddenly my father, then stationed at Camp Edwards in Massachusetts, received orders to prepare to ship out, and all leaves were canceled. Being a young man in love, he went AWOL. He and my mother were married four days earlier than originally planned and he returned to base to an angry sergeant. After hearing the explanation, the sergeant understandingly replied, “Okay, okay!” Then, as an afterthought: “But don’t let it happen again!”
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My friend Mark and I work in a lawn-mower-parts warehouse. Somehow Mark got the idea that his wife did not want a card on Valentine’s Day, but when he spoke to her on the phone he discovered she was expecting one. Not having time to buy a card on his way home, Mark was in a quandary. Then he looked at the lawn-mower trade magazines scattered around the office—and got an idea. Using scissors and glue, he created a card with pictures of mowers, next to which he wrote: “I lawn for you mower and mower each day.”
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My boyfriend Hans and I met online. After dating a long time, I introduced him to my uncle, who was fascinated by the fact that we met over the Internet. He asked Hans what kind of line he had used to pick me up. Ever the geek, Hans naively replied, “I just used a modem.”
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The lingerie store where my aunt works was crowded with shoppers selecting Valentine’s Day gifts for their wives. A young businessman came to the register with a lacy black negligee. My aunt noticed that the next customer, an elderly farmer, was holding a long flannel nightgown and kept glancing at the younger man’s sexier choice. When it was his turn, the farmer placed the nightgown on the counter. “Would you have anything in black flannel?” He asked.
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I met my husband while I was working in a science library. He came in every week to read the latest journals and eventually decided to take out the librarian instead of the books.
After a year and a half of dating, he showed up at the library and started rummaging through my desk. I asked what he was looking for, but he didn’t answer. Finally he unearthed one of the rubber stamps I used to identify reference books. “Since I couldn’t find the right engagement ring,” he said, “this will have to do,” and he firmly stamped my hand. Across my knuckles, in capital letters, it read “NOT FOR CIRCULATION.”
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Driving through Southern California, I stopped at a roadside stand that sold fruit, vegetables and crafts. As I went to pay, I noticed the young woman behind the counter was painting a sign. “Why the new sign?” I asked. “My boyfriend didn’t approve of the old one,” she said. When I glanced at what hung above the counter, I understood. It declared: “Local Honey Dates Nuts”
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I suppose it speaks volumes about the state of my marriage when I admit to nodding knowingly at a remark made by a colleague.
She was telling me about the death of another co-worker’s spouse, when she commented, "How sad. They’d been married only five years, so I imagine she still loved him."
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A man is madly in love with a princess and wants to propose, but an evil witch has cast a spell on him, and now he can say only one word a year. So he waits 14 agonizing years—accumulating all his words—before approaching his beloved.
Finally, the big day arrives. When he sees her, his heart skips a beat. He gathers his nerve, drops to his knees, and intones, “My darling,
I have waited many years to say this: Will you marry me?”
The princess turns around, smiles, and says, “Pardon?”
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At a restaurant one night, the man at the next table was pulling out all the stops to impress his underwhelmed date. He crowned a lengthy list of lifetime achievements by stating, “At least I can say I have been a Hollywood movie producer.”
The woman nodded. “I’ll make a note of that: ‘has-been movie producer.'”
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You know you’re dating the wrong guy when your friend steals your boyfriend and all you can think is, What does she see in him?
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All parents are proud of overachieving children, and one father was no exception. The bumper sticker on his car read "My Kid Made Your License Plate."
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Author Cindy Chupack coined these useful neologisms to help those dating today.
Man-me-downs: Men who are passed on from one woman to another after a failed attempt at romance.
Cupidity: The faulty logic that leads a well-meaning but clueless third party to believe that two random singles are perfect for each other.
DNRR (Do Not Resuscitate Romance): A directive that you are not, under any circumstance, allowed to revive a past relationship.
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Carrying two dead raccoons, a buzzard tries to check in at LAX for the red-eye to New York. "Sorry, sir," says the ticket agent. "We allow only one item of carrion."
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Good morning everyboomie.
Hope everyone is doing well today.
If Margaret is right, then by this afternoon I'll be smelling like dirt......and creek water.....and mosquito and tick repellent. P.U!!
Good thing I can't smell huh?
I'm not saying I can't stink mind you, cause even though I'm a Lilley, I can definitely get smelly. Oh yeah.
Not that I would know that first hand, but I have heard it second hand.
No, I just mean I don't have the sense to smell, hence I can't smell my own B.O. as it were.
Is this making sense?
Time for me to turn in and have some sweet....smelling dreams.
Can dreams smell??
Have a happy day everyone.
joe
Boy I can't keep my days straight can I?