Hey! I Can See Your House From Up Here!

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
161

Listen, dwyr.

You are not a lurker. You used to be a regular participant, but then you quit for some reason. Maybe it was “regular but infrequent” but still, you are an MMP’er. It’s not a hard club to join. You’ve been holding out on us. Stop it.

Just go back through this thread and read my posts. If your first reaction isn’t “damn, that was retarded” I’ll buy you a cookie. One of those BIG ones, about the size of a pizza, with the macadamia nuts and the chocolate chips and everything. You can do better than I can, and I know this because I’ve read your posts.

If I can post here, with all my failings, why can’t you?

162

Was cat poo what you intended to have for lunch? :eek: I guess, if you must eat cat poo for lunch while at work, it’s probably best to take the non-alcoholic kind. :stuck_out_tongue:

163

I think we need a little clarification here, because I can’t think of any good reason to save cat poo, much less stick it into a lunch bag.

164

Then again, I’m taking a pimento cheese sammich to work for lunch tomorrow. I like pimento cheese alright, but really, how many steps above cat poo is it?

165

dwyr, clarification is indeed needed:

Where did you get the cat poo? Is it with or without cat litter debris? Did you plan to collect the cat poo, or did the opportunity just arise and you went for it?

How did the cat poo get into your lunch bag? Was it an unexpected present from your cat, or did you put it into your lunch bag?

If it was an unexpected present from your cat, are you going to pay more attention to what’s in a bag before you use it for your lunch, or are you getting rid of the cat?

If you put it into your lunch bag, is it in a container or just loose?

Do you intend it to be part of your lunch? If so, I recommend alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Perhaps a full-bodied red. I’d stay away from white wine with cat poo.

Is it intended for someone else’s lunch? A dog, perhaps?

If, as a reult of this poll, you discover that most people do indeed find it strange that you went to work with cat poo in your lunch bag, will you stop taking cat poo to work, or will you march to a different drummer and continue with the cat poo?

If you decide to cease taking cat poo to work in your lunch bag, what will happen to the cat poo? Will you still take a lunch bag?

166

I think the thing we can all learn from dwyr’s cat poo lunch is to politely decline all invitations to dine in dwyr’s home. :smiley:

167

I think you’re missing an important line of inquiry here, Kallessa.

Namely, did she or did she not bring the cat poo to work in her lunch bag on purpose, or was it just some sort of bizarre accident? And why is it that women like cats anyway?

We’re waiting, dwyr. And you know how patient we are.

168

No, Ex I didn’t miss “an important line of inquiry”. You missed a day or two of reading comprehension. :stuck_out_tongue:

Compare this:

to this:

It is my contention that these questions are essentially the same, to wit: was the act deliberate or unintended?
Hint–don’t try to parse words with a lawyer. :wink:

169

Ex it’s a gay men phenomenon too. I didn’t inherit that part of the gay gene, myself. I mean, cats are ok, some are cool. My mom had a cool cat named Groucho (his face is white but he has this black patch right under his nose that looks like a Groucho Marx moustache), who I get a large kick out of. But, I don’t want to own a cat. However, many, many, many of my gay friends have cats that they are just fools for. Huge, spoiled, obnoxious, let me jump up in your lap, shed all over you and get in your face cats. Two friends in particular come to mind. Wonderful people. Been together 26 years. I hate going to their house because of two enormous cats that will not leave me alone. They come visit me a lot as a consequence. The pleasure of their company, sans the damn cats, is always welcomed. Ok, enough rambling. I’m gonna go turn the sprinklers off now.

170

We interrupt this joke fest to announce that we may have found our house. There’s a contract on it, but the financing is supposedly shaky. So we’ll know next week. Fingers crossed!

Resume jollity.

PS - Rue, my spousal unit loved your polar bear story!

171

Found a house??? We’re not building one? swampy confused. swampy need details. NOW!

172

Swampy! :dubious:

173

What? You’d rather have a cat poo sammich Tupug? :stuck_out_tongue:

174

I must stop forgetting to add details to my posts. :slight_smile:

The cat poo was in a small container of formalin and in my lunch bag because I needed to keep it refrigerated. I brought it to work to do an ova/parasite exam on it, thus saving myself a few bucks at the vet’s office. After all I do O & Ps on people poo all the time so why not? (You don’t wanna know what you can find in people poo…really.) It just kind of struck me today that not everyone goes to work with cat poo in their lunch bag. Probably. I’m guessing here.

Oh, and even if the pollees agree it’s strange, in all likelihood I’ll continue to carry cat poo in my lunch bag in the future (as circumstances dictate). You can take the woman out of the lab, but you can’t… well, you know.

Ex, you’re right, I will post more often, though I can’t see a bit of retardation in your posts. And if I may say, your only failing appears to be a wee bit of crankiness from time to time.

[sup]*[/sup]Now where’s my damn cookie?

*Did that come off as tongue-in-cheek? 'Cause that’s what I was aiming at; the eyesight’s not what it used to be.

175

Don’t argue specifications with an engineer, Kalley. You’ll just lose, okay? Attempting to meld two separate questions into one just isn’t going to fly.

Hell, swampy, I’ve got a friend who lives in a Bad Neighborhood. He has a scrawny mutant cat that must weigh all of six pounds, and he takes it for walks (on this ridiculous little leash) through said Bad Neighborhood, past the badasses with their pit bulls, on a regular basis. Did I mention that he’s all of five foot nothing and weighs about a buck ten? And he’s quite obviously “graceful” in a pretty non-tolerant area?

I’m convinced he’s going to get killed.

176

For the record, I make a pimento cheese sandwich that is most tasty.

Much better than cat poo.

177

Ok, I admit it. I’ve been lurking in this thread this week. Work has been friggin’ awful (swampy, I feel your pain), and while I haven’t fired anybody yet (oh, but I could. ::evil cackle:: I could fire all you miserable people you don’t do what you’re supposed to) it’s been pretty draining. So, thanks for all the jokes, and I promise to try and post more.

Here’s a couple musician jokes for ya:

How do you get a drummer off your front porch?
Pay him for the pizza.

How do you know when a singer is at your door?
She’s late and she forgot the key.

How do you make a guitar player stop playing?
Put sheet music in front of him.

Some theatre jokes:

Why do sound people only count to two?
Because on Three you have to pick something up.
(While testing mics and things, sound folks say “test - one two” over and over again)

What’s the difference between God and a Sound designer?
God doesn’t think he’s a sound designer.

A shortened but still really long version of a really really long joke that kind of fits in with the others in this thread:

A bear walks into a bar and orders a beer, downs it in one gulp, orders another, drinks it down, orders another … well, you get the idea. This must be a big night out for Mr. Bear, as he’s drinking up a storm. A few stools down (heh. I said stool) there is a middle-aged “lady of the night,” if you will. She doesn’t like the bear all that much because he’s scaring away all her usual customers. After a couple hours of the bear drinking and carousing, she’s had enough, and tells the bear, “Knock it off and get the !@#^ out of my bar! You’re killing my business!” Without a pause, the bear roars, reaches over, and eats the woman in one bite. He then growls to the bartender, “Gimme another beer!”
“No,” says the bartender. “We don’t serve drug addicts here.”
“Drug addicts? I’m a bear! I don’t use drugs!” And with that, the bar started smashing tables. “Now give me a beer!”
“Sorry, but I can’t serve a druggie,” replied the bartender
“Why do you keep calling me a druggie?”
“I just saw you using drugs.”
“When?”
"Just now …

That was a bar-bitch-u-ate!"

Hah! I kill me. I’ll be here all week, try the veal, etc etc.

For the record, there are 7 new posts in this thread since I started writing this post. (Stupid job.) - But I’ve got my fingers crossed, FCM! Good luck!

178

OK, I thought I’d told everyone, but apparently not. We’re not building because there’s a huge building boom in our county so they’ve instituted a $10,000 impact fee per house, plus you have to BID on subcontractors and the builders won’t guarantee a price and they’re so busy, they couldn’t even break ground for 4-6 months… and on and on. So we’re selling our land (at a juicy profit) and buying something. We were looking at condos, but we’re not condo people.

There, swampy, is that better?? Poor baby…

179

I have to admit to being confused by this bit too. What happened to the Dream House?

Now then, dwyr. That’s a little better, except I didn’t understand a single friggin’ word of your explanation. I mean, I know it was all in English because I recognized most of the words, but I just didn’t get it because I’m half an idiot.

I expect a clarification, in detail, shortly. Use smaller words.

Give me a break. I have to get her to post somehow, and as I said, I’m an idiot. This was the best I could do. Sue me. Not you, Kalley.

180

pimento cheese? They still make that stuff? :eek:

I don’t feel so bad about my fried Spam sammich now.

I see we’ve crossed the line from jokes told to us by 8 years olds to jokes of a salacious nature.
Okay, I can live with that.

A little old man is hobbling down the sidewalk with his cane.
Business has been pretty slow for the local ‘ladies’ and one of them decides to have a little fun with the old man. She saunters up to him and, in her most sultry voice, says “For fifty dollars I’ll do anything you can ask me to do in three words, and I do mean anything.”

The old man looks her up and down for a looong moment, his eyes lingering over all of her ample charms.
Finally he seems to make a decision, smiles, looks her straight in the eye and says:

“Paint my house.”