Hey, a friend of mine blew off his middle finger loading primer cord. Does that count? He called his wife to tell her…
“Honey, I just blew my finger off.”
“What? Which one?”
“My hole finger.”
“Which one?”
“My hole finger.”
“I know your whole finger but which one?”
I swear this is true. He keeps the dessicated finger on a necklace along with a coon penis and just wears it on… you know… special occasions.
Nothing says “well dressed” like a coon penis necklace.
Happy birthday Welby. No matter what your wife thinks, you deserve Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
Well Thank You, Rue.
Um, you weren’t planning on sending me any gifts, were you? If so, go ahead and keep 'em for yourself. I, um, don’t wear jewelery.
Long time lurker, first time poster to the MMP.
And I get to jump in just when the subject of coon penises comes up. (Snort! Comes up! I crack myself up.) But it reminds me of the DVD we watched Sunday. Blue Collar Comedy Tour. It’s the ultimate redneck jokefest, truly. We laughed our butts off. Well, not really. but you know what I mean. You might be a redneck if…you’ve ever had your nipple bitten off by a beaver! You have to rent it if you haven’t seen it…
My husband has tons of tools. Chainsaws, table saws, hack saws, miter saws, drilling thingies, pneumatic hammer…he loves his tools. He just bought a new weedeater because he didn’t like mine. (We’re newlyweds.) His is gas-powered. Well, la-dee-dah! I tried to use his, and tore up two of the little plastic string thingies immediately. So now he will get to do all the weedeating. But he likes it. He loves working in the yard. Sometimes I wonder about him.
Happy birthday, Welby!
We don’t have any weapons, except an old .22. It hasn’t even been cleaned in forever.
I need to clean out my closet. Spring cleaning time, you know? Besides, I’ve put on 30 pounds, and I can’t wear any of my clothes. I blame it on quitting smoking.
OK…back to work.
I suppose because they knew I like weapons. Particularly bladed weapons. I was in the SCA at the time, but a lot of my friends had weapons and did SCA-type fighting before SCA existed. So some of the weapons I got were SCA stuff–rattan for fighting, blunt arrows for wars, etc., and some of it was real. I had several friends who were (and are still) armourers and one who was a pretty good swordsmith–he made me the sweetest little dagger. What they couldn’t make, they knew where to buy.
Think of it this way: I’m the type of girl who thinks the first Conan movie, Conan the Barbarian, is one of the most romantic movies ever made. And that’s the type of girl you give weapons to. And big ol’ jewels. Preferably stolen from a temple or an evil king.
Happy Birthday Welby! Many lavendar unicorns and rainbow kites to you. Now, what I want to know is how you know Ex wears pink lacy undies. The mind boggles at how you came by this info. Also, I’ll gladly take any jewelry Rue sends your way. Except for the coon penis, I’ll pass on the penis. In this case at least.
My dad wore pink boxers, but only when my sister washed a red t-shirt in with the whites that one time. Dad was secure and didn’t fuss about the girly color. He almost completely cut the tip of one finger off once, doing something in the garage. Where he was also nearly bitten by a baby sidewinder. He thought the hissing noise was a leaky tire, but nope, angry snake.
Usually the cats (we had a herd of nine at one point) kept snakes away, but that one sneaked through. Now that I think about it, why did we have so many kangaroo rats and not snakes? Were the snakes wimpy, or the kangaroo rats unusually stealthy? My mom fed them Cheerios and they’d come right up onto her feet to get them. The rats that is, not the snakes. They also stole all the silver balls out of my sister’s pachinko game. Also rats, not snakes. In fact, as far as I can tell, the snakes just sat around and maybe occassionally ate stuff while waiting to hiss at people from under the cars in the garage. Wow! How’s that for off-topic?
Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, Kallessa, you and your sister need a front loading washer like mine. Those top loaders are terribly tall, you’re absolutely correct. Being at the tall end of the girl scale, I can reach in no problem. Doesn’t stop me from worrying about falling in. What if I fell in headfirst and then somehow the machine turned itself on and my arms were trapped and I couldn’t get out? I’d be very clean and dead, that’s what. I think maybe you should have some sort of harness for your sister, like rock climbers use, because you can’t be too careful. At least a bell like they used to use for people who were accidently buried alive. Scary thing is, I’m only half kidding. Welcome to my neurosis. Have some safety goggles and elbow pads. Helmet optional.
Upside is, he’s a much more courteous driver.
Susan
Hey ho Dolores; you’re doing better than I am. I’ve got a closet stuffed with clothes I can’t wear anymore but I can’t bring myself to toss them out.
My sword is short and sort of stabby Rue. Well, it’s actually kind of blunty right now but it could be sharpened up pretty quickly.
My brother has a morning star and boy, is that thing heavy. Also really pointy. I almost hurt myself just looking at it. I wonder how knights avoided bonking themselves in the head with stuff like that?
My, my Rue, all that sucking and blowing has got me all worked up!! :eek:
Rue,
I’ve been looking at the combo Shop Vacs too. I’m kinda torn; I like those backpack blowers 'cause I can go a long way with them, but a shop vac/blower would be a much better value (see, that’s kind of a girly way of looking at things, even though manly stuff is involved).
I don’t have any swords, sabers, maces, glaives, or anything like that. 
We had a fake sword for Halloween because hubby dressed up as a Roman soldier. Does that count?
Happy Birthday Welby! Hope you’re enjoying your day. Go ahead, play a round of pin the tail on the donkey for me! I am also curious (maybe I don’t really wanna know) as to how YOU know Ex wears pink, lacy underwear. That is rather, er…disturbing.
Speaking of washers, (sort of a womanly tool) I want that new Maytag Neptune. You know, where they show the washer sitting on a bunch of rocks with the ocean waves breaking over it. No agitator, AND it washes a lot of clothes at once AND it’s self balancing! This is what I NEED, but, well, we’ve got to let old one die. Hopefully, it will shake itself to death. The damn thing always goes off balance when anything heavy like towels or jeans are washed and it’s not loaded EXACTLY right. So, I’m sitting downstairs and have to run hell bent for leather UP the stairs whenever I hear that KA-THUMPA, THUMPA, THUNK THUNK KA-WHUMPA sound. This is nearly every day! You’d think I’d drop some poundage with all that stair running I do!
Um…I think I’ll pass on any coon penis or shriveled up finger jewelry. My taste is a little more…uh…classy. I like emeralds and diamonds.
Taters
Stair Runner Extraordinaire
No, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.
You started a thread, all but dedicated it to me (well, okay, it’s the MMP thread, but you did say “this is for Ex” in the first line), and I MISSED IT?
For almost two whole days? I’m torn between grateful and ashamed. Mostly ashamed, but leaning towards grateful. There’s also some anger, mostly aimed at the weirdo who wraps himself in an old tablecloth, paints his face green, and runs off to whack other people on the head with a foam-rubber sword, and then disparages me (nay, libels me) in my absence, but it’s a small anger. After all, he doesn’t have an official Battlestar Galactica Cylon Helmet complete with the oscillating LED thingy in the eyeslot, so I figure he’s just jealous.
Back to the OP: manly stuff at Casa del Exgineer.
Not much to report, since the ground is just thawing and it wouldn’t be prudent to walk about the yard picking up the annual fallen tree branches just yet. I also have to hedge against the freak dreaded freak April snowstorm, so there ain’t no serious yardwork to be done yet. No necessary home improvements/ maintenance/expansions either. So, I have nothing to mention unless you want to hear about my wall.
The wall in question would be one wall in my living room that is currently uncluttered with girly crap, and I need to make a space claim soon or there will be girly crap up there. Therefore, I need to present a proposal for the creation of a Man Wall.
My plan, in broad outline, is to create a sort of art installation on this wall that consists of Man Stuff, specifically, Exgineer Man Stuff. Since I am an engineer by training, I intend to present an actual propsal, complete with cost estimate, instead of… whatever it is artists do.
I propose a Heritage Wall, which shall both look really cool and contain toys that I can take down and play with. For this I will require:[ul]
*A rifle. Not just any rifle (I already have two, and I’m much more of a shotgun type of guy), but what is commonly known as a Pennsylvania or Ketucky rifle. An upstate New York, long octagonal barreled, small caliber (.45 or so) ,brass-fitted flintlock rifle. It has to be a shooter, mind you, because I’m not going to just put it on the wall and leave it there. We’re talking quality repro here.
*Possibles bag, with beadwork, containing Irish linen (for patches), patch knife, worm, jag, and scraper tips for the rod, a jar of grease, spare flints, and other stuff.
*Shot bag. With ball, duh.
A flintlock pistol the same caliber as the rifle.
A tomahawk. This is crucial.
*A really big knife. And a smaller knife
*Possibly a second pistol. And maybe a third.
*A smallsword. I’m unsure, might be overkill.[/ul]
My principal problem is acquiring all this stuff. The rifle alone could set me back almost two grand. What I want from you folks are suggestions for how to hang this stuff on a wall in a pleasant, eye-pleasing pattern, and yet still be able to take an individual piece down to “play” with it.
Any ideas?
Ex,
Hmm, IANAID (I am not an interior designer), but it seems to me you need racks for the guns and little rack thingies for the knives, swords and othe sharp objects. Perhaps you could put thin shelves (with hooks) and put your um…combustibles on the shelves and hang the bag thingies from the hooks. All of these should should be set up in a pleasing design. Remember, odd numbers work best (that’s what they say on those designer shows). So groupings of three or five.
Perhaps, Swampy should be the one to address this design question; if he’s not too busy thinking of loverly designs for FCM.
I can’t believe you did NOT answer to Welby saying that you wear pink, lacy underwear! Did you miss this? Or…is it true and you’re just gonna let it ride? 
:eek:
Welcome, Dolores! I hope you like it here at the MMP. What am I saying? I’m sure you will. 
Exgineer, you are cool. Your Wall of Death sounds a bit dangerous, tho. And stabby. The thread seems to have inexplicably gained a subject, and I don’t have any good tools to contribute, so off I go. ~~~~~~~~
Sheesh, Taters, you challenge me on an unsubstantiated charge of pink-lacy-underpants-wearing made by a known and demonstrated wearer-of-rainbow-colored-tablecloths and completely fail to note that he’s a notorious weirdo? The man interrogates squirrels, for God’s sake.
For the record, I have never actually worn pink lacy underpants, but I’ll try 'em if anybody insists. I’m secure in my maleness, and who knows, I might like 'em.
No, no, Magickly. You can’t leave just yet. Please sit, sir*, and have a glass of this fine port. Care for a cigar? No? Perhaps for later then.
Now then, where do you suppose I should hang the shooty things, in concert with the carry-baggy-things, to accent the cutty/stabby things?
I ask you sir*, where?
*It’s “Ma’am”, isn’t it. Or more likely “Miss”. Then the whole “port and cigars” thing just doesn’t work. It probably should have started with “would you care to step out into the garden, I must speak with you” but that would have been much longer. I always screw these things up, and I’m not just talking about posters’ genders either.
Ex, did you miss the part about supple leather bras, chainmail G-strings and sword fighting in lingerie?
Or perhaps your excitement over flintlocks and smallswords is masking a deeper issue. You know what they say about a man and his gun. Or his rifle, as the case may be. <snigger, snigger, gaffaw, gaffaw>
I’m trying to put that stuff out of my mind. I’ll spend way too much time in the bathroom otherwise.
Wow, FCM, he made chainmail out of coathangers? That’s got to be 12 gauge or so. Tough, unbendy stuff. Mr. Lissar’s shirt is almost knee-length with elbow-length sleeves, done in 16 gauge galvanized wire, I think. I’m not sure about the type of wire. He gets it from a farm supply place in enormous spools.
It weighs 22 lbs. It is not comfy for more than an hour.
My uncle cut his hand of with a circular saw. About eight years ago, I think. He was working on the roof, cut it off, picked it up, somehow got back down the ladder, called 911, and put the hand in the freezer. The paramedics were damn impressed.
They did tons of surgery and put the hand back on.
Good grief Lissla! Your uncle is one tough dude.
I always wondered what it would be like to lose an appendage. What if his hand had been unretrievable? What if they’d had to sew someone else’s hand back on? What if it had been a woman’s hand?
Hey…
Nice try, Ex. All of your pathetic attempts at misdirection aside, please explain to these people your fascination with lacy underwear, or I’ll do it for you.
As for the wall, I guess you’re going for an American heritage wall, which would not be complete without the following:
A buffalo head.
A hat of some sort.
Buckskin clothing. (Though, I guess you’ve got your clothing all picked out, don’t you?)
Thanks for all the birthday wishes, those of you who bothered. The rest of you can go bugger a platypus.
Well, shoot. I was going to suggest that you slap some dead animals on your wall (I’d go for a moose head), but I see that welby beat me to it. Oh well. Guess I’ll just go off and bugger a platypus.