Once upon a time, a guy asked a beautiful girl, “Will you marry me?”
The girl said, “No!”
And the guy rode motorcycles and went fishing and hunting and played golf a lot and drank beer and scotch and had tons of money in the bank and left the toilet seat up and farted whenever, wherever he wanted and lived happily ever after.
The end.
(Thanks Donna!)
Phillip
March 12, 2010 at 10:21 am
You mean you can’t fart whenever you want to? Go way, b’y!
Steve
March 12, 2010 at 10:32 am
I’m already living the fairy tale life!
kevin
March 13, 2010 at 2:04 pm
Id like to leave a comment but sometimes, I’m told, that I have a habit of going on and on. Now most of my faults, and apparently I have numerous, have been realized by my beloved and brought to light at times when either I haven’t been living up to my part of said responsibilies or when I hear those 5 little words that would bring any man, no matter how big or strong to his knees, “Honey, we need to talk”. It’s not that I forget my duties in regard to proper bathroom edequette and toilet seats or the strain on certain internal organs that overtakes someone from time to time and you know you can’t let one go in mixed or present company, it’s the looks that get me wondering. You know the looks I mean. You’re doing something quite innocent in your mind, maybe just moving a few tools around the the shed or picking up the fishing rod that fell of the hook and there she is and you get the look that’s telling you “don’t think you’re gonna do nothing all day while I’m slaving in here” or “I thought you were gonna help today and not laze around”. You know . . . those looks. I’m not a hunter and the amount of fish I’ve landed wouldn’t be near enough to feed the multitudes as has been done in biblical times but sometimes not doing anything is as relaxing as any of the manly fixations as is out there. Sitting around sometimes watching the grass grow can be as soothing to me as most guys find it relaxing rifling through brush and countless bushes for that elusive little white ball. Where is it written that enjoying one’s own company is temptation itself to be treaded lightly in the event that it may happen to often and how then would I get anything done. Sometimes this slothful extravagence on my part is due, I believe , to the fact that I have on any given day a house full of women or shall we say personages of the female gender. It’s trying at best to me to get in tune with things that they deem inportant, Sales at the local Shopper’s Drug Mart, recent hair colourings, and does these pants make me look fat, (don’t ever go there), so this time of year I go to my place of solitude and wait for the grass to arrive only to be caught in the perverbial headlights and be given the look. It wears on a fella and yet I don’t know what it really means, and lets face it, I’m not gonnna ask cos maybe I don’t want to know in the first place. I know it’s not good news anyway. So like the old saying goes . . .”here I sit broken hearted, paid a dime and only. . . .” Coming dear!