I baked one this weekend but it wasn’t up to my usual standards. It rose really high, then plummeted as soon as it came out of the oven. The texture was almost brownie-like. Not that there’s any left by now…
swampbear, I neither revved nor threatened. I don’t have to. He knows… “the boy” knows…
Hmmmm. Now that I’ve had a moment to reflect, your plan does seem failry devious FCM. The boy wants to please, you work him like a dog, and he’s too tired to want anything else. Wise move.
I’ve been criticized often by Welbywife over the way I deal with boys coming over to date Welbydaughter. For example, when her first boyfriend came to the house to go to the movies on thier first date, I was going over my targets from the firing range in the living room.
I splurged on the targets that are actually pictures of people. I pointed out the massive collection of shots in the crotch, and the head shots from 60 feet that were nicely grouped. I told him that I’d been shooting for years and years and that the entire process was almost automatic for me.
Then I drove the kids to the movies. It was nice to be called “Mr. Welby” and sir all the time.
So none of “the old Mrs. Robinson”, eh? What a disappointment. I check in for something salacious, and I get the Tinman and Dorothy. Sheesh.
I bet he’s already writing to Penthouse Forum about the shower with his girlfriend’s mother. Fantasy, it’s a powerful tool in the hands of a teenaged boy.
Sorry to disappoint, Shibb, but even if I were inclined to dabble with a teenager (ick ick ick) “the boy” is not now, nor would he ever have been, my type. And if I work into any of his fantasies, the lad has more issues than I ever imagined! :eek:
welby, you’re evil. My husband once told one of her former boyfriends “I have a gun, a shovel, and 5 acres - they’ll never find you.” He said that in front of the kid’s mother. He was kidding. We didn’t have 5 acres.
No gun either, but we have several shovels.
I remember one time I went to pick up my Homecoming date. She was supposed to have someone else drive her there, but her dad went hunting that day so her mom let me pick her up. I went, got her and as we were leaving her father came home, gun in hand! :eek: Parents sure can be scary.
I hate to scare you, but I got laid a lot watching TV. A lot.
And it’s not going to take 15 minutes for anything to happen, anyway, not with a teenage boy. 
Good work, FCM! My dad used to get lots of work out of my boyfriends. One even took down a very large dead tree (he got to keep the wood). Another time he convinced a whole cadre of my friends to move a pile of fieldstone from one end of the property to the other!
Did you ever see the Saturday Night Live episode co-hosted by Steven Seagal? They did a sketch based on a kid coming to pick up Seagal’s teenage daughter for a date with remarkably similar themes …
A Posthole digger! What, are you attempting to be cruel to this boy? Having him spend the day thrusting long hard objects into the soft, moist hole? I mean, a little torture is good for the soul, but that seems a bit much. And let me guess, you’d offer to let him shower again while you shower at the same time. Cruel Cruel woman 
Ahh nothing like being your gf’s parents source of slave labor.
This is why dating is Soooo much better in and after college.
God no but I wish I had, I might have gotten a few more ideas about how to terrify the kid. He was one of those types that you just don’t feel comfortable around, ya know?
And the crazy thing is, only me and Welbyson found it funny. All of the wimmens were horrified.
EEWWWW!
Looks like I’ll be taking care of the fence without his help. You are deeply warped and twisted. Normally I admire those traits in a person, but this time - EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
Now let’s stop this slave labor talk. I didn’t ask - he offered. I was going to make my kid help me. Of course, I’m not going to decline a sincere offer - I’m not stupid! Her last boyfriend helped us build the workshop in our basement. I think more than anything, he was looking to hang with my husband. The boy’s parents were divorced and his dad lived 8 hours away, so I think he was just looking to fill that void. I was kinda sorry when they borke up - he was a good worker.
Good one FCM.
My dad just offers them a drink…he has some secret dad code, which correlates their drink choices to their character.
He never liked my sister’s ex, apparently because he chose the last can of lager in the fridge.
irishfella was forewarned, and sensibly asked for whatever dad was drinking.
My mum is happy if they like her cooking, and offer to set the table.
Again, forewarned is forearmed.
My parents love my guy.
My images of FCM are in a constant state of flux from her stories. Right now I’m picturing her walking around their property wearing Carhaarts and grunting “Aaargh aargh aargh” Tim Allen style.
Could a woman possibly be any more desirable?
He’s a great guy, and you like him.
I expect your daughter will be dumping him soon.
lieu - I don’t grunt. It’s more like gasping and wheezing. Did I mention it’s been in the 90s here? I spend the day in air conditioned comfort, then go home to labor under the late afternoon sun, trying to get my chores done before the skeeters declare that dinner is served. What the heck are Carhaarts?
Lizard, well, by this time next year, he may well be history - she’ll be going to college in Orlando (we hope) and he has no such ambitions. What may transpire in the interim is anyone’s guess.
We’ll be building our retirement home in Maryland. Even if she gets a bf who’s in construction, we’ll be too far away to take advantage. Bummer.
Carhaarts are to the working class what the Shroud of Turin was to the baby Jesus… what we can aspire to.
Darn comfortable and tough as Sally Hansen.
Wonderfull, I suggest something, people run and scream in terror…sigh… (marks FCM off list of people to flirt with)
The problem with a post hole digger is that it’s just not as intimidating as a chainsaw. Unless it’s one of those gasoline-powered auger things. Those can be really intimidating in the proper context, like when you fire it up while he’s bent over examining the hole.
Those articulated double spade things are just laughable.
“Whataya’ think yer gonna’ do with that, lady?”
And here I thought you’d accidentally flashed him or something…