George R. R. Martin
You’re mine and I’m yours. And if we die, we die, but first we’ll live.
``````````
Yesterday I was at my local Walmart buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Fred, the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant?
On impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stopped to pee on a fire hydrant and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard.
Walmart won't let me shop there anymore!
``````````
When I was a rookie police officer, I was flustered by citizens who got upset if I gave them a traffic ticket. They would accuse me of trying to complete my quota for the month. Then a veteran officer gave me some useful advice.
The next motorist I stopped sarcastically commented, “I guess this will help you reach your quota.”
I smiled and, repeating my mentor’s words, replied, “No, sir, they took our quota away. Now we can write as many as we want.”
```````````
When Fred Phillips, retired public-safety director and police chief of Johnson City, Tennessee, was a regular police officer, he and his partner pulled over an unlicensed motorist. They asked the man to follow them to the police station, but while en route they spotted a North Carolina vehicle whose license plate and driver matched the description in an all-points bulletin. The officers took off in a high-speed chase and finally stopped the wanted man’s car.
Minutes later, as the felon was being arrested, the unlicensed motorist drove up. “If y’all will just tell me how to get to the station, I’ll wait for you there,” he said. “I’m having a heck of a time keeping up with you.”
`````````
I had just pulled over someone for driving under the influence when another car pulled up behind us. I stopped what I was doing and ventured back to see if the driver needed assistance.
“No, I don’t need any help,” he said, reeking of booze. Then, pointing to the flashing cherry top on the roof of my cruiser, he continued, “I just stopped for the red light.”
````````````
Living in a household with eight indoor cats requires buying large amounts of kitty litter, which I usually get in 25-pound bags—100 pounds at a time. When I was going to be out of town for a week, I decided to go to the supermarket to stock up. As my husband and I both pushed shopping carts, each loaded with five large bags of litter, a man looked at our purchases and queried, “Bengal or Siberian?”
`````````````
My boyfriend and I were taking his 19-year-old niece to a weekend festival. When we arrived at her house to pick her up, she appeared in tasteful but very short shorts, and a tank top with spaghetti straps. A debate began immediately about appropriate dress. I took the girl’s side, recalling that when we began dating, I dressed the same way.
“Yes,” said my boyfriend sternly, “and I said something about it, didn’t I?”
Everyone looked at me. “Yeah,” I replied. “You said, ‘What’s your phone number?'”
`````````
As a single, never-married woman in my 40s, I have been questioned endlessly about my status by friends, relatives and co-workers. Over the years I’ve noticed a subtle change in the nature of their inquiries.
In my teens, friends would ask, “Who are you going out with this weekend?”
In my 20s, relatives would say, “Who are you dating?”
In my 30s, co-workers might inquire, “So, are you dating anyone?”
Now people ask, “Where did you get that adorable purse?”
`````
My husband bought an exercise machine to help him shed a few pounds. He set it up in the basement but didn’t use it much, so he moved it to the bedroom. It gathered dust there, too, so he put it in the living room.
Weeks later I asked how it was going. “I was right,” he said. “I do get more exercise now. Every time I close the drapes, I have to walk around the machine.”
`````````
One rainy morning, my mother went for her daily run. As she returned to the house, she slipped and fell, hitting her head on the driveway.
I called the paramedics. When they arrived, they asked my mom some questions to determine her coherency. “What is today?” inquired one man.
Without hesitation, Mom replied, “Trash day.”
``````````````
Good morning everyboomie.
I'm not really sure what day this is, but I'm sure of one thing, I don't care.
I got some new pills from my psychiatrist, and everything is A-ok hunky dory.
I don't even care that the government has tapped my phone, and bugged my house.
The government has been bugging me for years, along with most employers I've worked for.............and my sister.
My regular doctor gave me a pill to use to boost my stamina for exercise, but when I took it, it lasted for over 4 hours.
When I went to Walmart for groceries it was rather embarrassing.
Also it almost gave me a stroke..........or two.
I feel great now though, exhausted but great.
Have a happy day everyone.
joe