The terminal velocity thing is something you might want to challenge her on. Hurl her to the ground at 400 mph and see what happens.
As I understand it, one Joseph Kittinger exceeded 600 miles per hour during a skydive in 1960, so it’s certainly possible.
DudleyGarrett, did your sister-in-law happen to mention if she dove from the gondola of a helium balloon floating at 102,800 feet? 
You said the visit was a package deal – no FIL without SIL. Does that mean that SIL lives with the poor man? If so, then he deserves an even bigger award than yours.
She sounds like she should be on Twitter. Or at least YouTube so we all can enjoy her lectures.
Perhaps her speedometer was measuring dm/sec. That would work out about right. I’m sure dm/sec is a common unit for skydiving speedometers. :rolleyes:
How about without a strap-on?
Bahahaa!
You joke, but I wonder if being able to vent online might help her a little. Although part of me wonders whether she’s already the type to spend half her life seeking drama on LiveJournal and Facebook.
You are indeed a good man.
Are the crotchfruit salvageable? How about being the cool uncle and taking them (sans mother) somewhere for the afternoon? How about taking the 12 year old to a shooting range?
No, it was just a really heavy speedometer.
Holy shit, it’s fucking GOOD to be at work today. I need a weekend from my weekend.
So here’s what we did last night: We put on Best in Show. My wife and I love this movie and still crack up at most of it. SIL and the kids? They found it boring (this was all part of the plan). SIL started yapping about other films (of course, all foreign and subtitled, just to show us how urbane and polished she is) that she finds more interesting, but all that got was a stern look from my wife with the unspoken “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Guess what? The festering pile of shit took her two dingleberries upstairs to bed. At 9PM! Hallelujah.
Today they went into Washington DC to look at the sights. God bless my wife. I mean seriously. I’m going to give that girl an orgasm tonight.
To respond to some of the thread:
Notice I said the terminal velocity of the “average” is 120MPH. Just about every google search confirms this, as well as my freshman physics professor. We can talk about Johnny Missile, the contortionist/gymnast who was 7’5", weighed 300lbs and had 21" waist, but that’s not her. She’s at best average.
She said 400MPH. But here’s the rub: Bitch never went skydiving. It’s all made up. Skydving costs money; something of which she’s only had once. When her mother died a couple years ago. You know what she did with that cash? Bought a Saab, took pimply-faced crackhead to Vegas to marry him, bought a MacBook and an iPod touch. But she didn’t have enough money to pay rent afterward.
Her kids are not salvageable. One is 12 and has more issues than Time Magazine. He’s got manboobs and pretends he’s a girl (like a totally separate person, with a different name and everything). The other terror is 7 who sneezes without covering his mouth, at the table, toward the table, without comment from his mother. He once said, “My PATIENCE is RUNNING THIN!” when my wife had the DVR stopped for 5 minutes while she told her dad a story. That statement almost caused him to bleed. What was his mother doing? Uploading pictures of her enormous pregnant ass to Facebook.
Tomorrow my life begins again.
Oh, BTW: Thanks for the support. Some of your posts made me smile. I needed to smile.
Wait – so you think your nephew could be transgender?
No telling. He’s really obese, so I don’t know if they’re really female-like boobs or just huge fat pockets.
What does that have to do with whether he’s transgender or not? 
Dudley, sorry about your situation, but I’m glad you were able to craft it into that OP. Anyone else get the same Bugs Bunny hit off that menage of subject matter?
Contract law, mathematics, computer programming, automatic transmissions, magic, libraries, politics, potatoes, silk, German Shepherds, hockey, Arabic, spaghetti, frisbee golf, mowing the grass, astronomy, fingernail-clipping, the stock market, Alcatraz, The Volkswagen Beetle, Ponce de Leon, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Steve Fucking Martin… and other picture postcards.
I don’t fucking know! As far as I know, he’s clearly a he. With issues.
No, but if he’s calling himself by a female name and such, you might want to talk to your sister-in-law about it.
Have you read what I said about her? She’s 100% unapproachable on any adult level.
Am I the only one who’s thinking of Ron?
No need. I have it on good authority that she is an expert on tween boys with moobs and possible gender-identity issues.
(Aside to Dudley: that pretty much also describes the Guinster.)
Cite?