A married man had hired a gorgeous secretary, and and after it was clear she was into him, he decided to “work late” one night and take this girl to dinner.
He called home to tell his wife he’d be late getting home. Without a hint of any concern, she replied, “okay, no problem.”
After dinner with the secretary, it was obvious that he was going to get lucky, so the two went back to her apartment and had “swinging from the chandelier” sex for two hours.
Afterwards, the man went into the bathroom to tidy his appearance when he noticed a huge hickey on his neck. He immediately fell into a state of panic, and he had no idea what he was going to tell his wife. Still he hurried home.
As he unlocked the front door, he heard the dog come barking and scratching at the door to greet him. He thought “Aha!” and entered the house, fell to the carpet and pretended to fight off the affectionate dog.
Holding his neck with one hand, he walked into the living room and exclaimed, “Honey! Look at what the dog did to my neck!”
To which she looked up, opened her blouse, and said, “That’s nothing, look at what he did to my tits!”
Frank was excited about his new rifle and went bear hunting. He spotted a small brown bear and shot it. Just then, there was then a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see a big black bear.
The black bear offered, “You’ve got two choices. I either maul you to death or we have rough sex.”
Not wishing to die, Frank decided to bend over.
Even though he felt sore for two weeks, Frank soon recovered and vowed revenge. He headed out on another trip where he found a black bear and shot it. There was another tap on his shoulder. This time a huge grizzly bear stood right next to him.
The grizzly told him, “That was a huge mistake, Frank. You’ve got two choices. Either I maul you to death or we have REALLY rough sex.”
Again, Frank thought it was better to comply.
Although he survived, it would take several months before Frank finally recovered! Outraged, he headed back to the woods, managed to track down the grizzly and shot it. He felt sweet revenge — but then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find a giant polar bear standing there!
The polar bear sighed, “Admit it, Frank, you don’t come here for the hunting, do you?”
So it’s been another long week for me. Lots of O.T. and lots of stuff at home to take care of. For some reason, optimists cannot resist the opportunity to piss me off when I’m swamped like this. They say shit like, “Oh I bet you’ll really appreciate that paycheck!” or even, “Isn’t it wonderful to keep busy like that.” Just fuck off already.
I’m worn out and tired. Their optimistic take on my situation isn’t something I want to deal with at the moment. It would be nice if they would just give me a nod and say, “Yeah. Been there,” so that I know that they actually understand, then move onto some other topic.
The more I think about it, the more I think I need to work on flipping the subject onto them. Sort of a “Enough about me, tell me how your life is going,” kind of tactic. Something that’s iron clad and air tight so I can reflexively deploy the optimism deflector without them having a clue that I really don’t give a fuck.
Two Russian hunters chartered a small plane to fly them to Siberia to go bear hunting.
On landing, the pilot said, “Remember, this plane can only fly with two hunters, one pilot, and ONE bear.”
The hunters went out and returned with two bears.
Furious, the pilot said, “I told you ONE bear!”
But the hunters point out that the previous year, on payment of an extra 6000 rubles, the pilot had let them put their two bears on board. After a long heated discussion the pilot agreed to take the extra bear for 12000 rubles.
After the plane struggled into the air and fitfully flew for about two hours, it gave out and plummeted to the earth into a snowbank.
Climbing out from under the snow and dead bears, the hunters asked the pilot where he thought they were.
“I’m not entirely certain,” said the pilot, “but it looks like the same place we crashed last year.”
August 4 was Gail's birthday. She's come a long way since she was a little puppy, and she still has a long way to go.
Can I be frank though? I got Gail to help me cope with the loss of my beloved Grace who passed away nearly a year ago. Unfortunately this did not pan out like I'd hoped. Gail is a beautiful Labrador, but when you see her in person, it's apparent she lacks the lovability that Grace had.
She has no impulse control. When you try to pet her she wants to chew on you, or jump on you, or claw/kick you. Not in a mean way, but in an overexcited loss of control way. She also swings her head around like it was a mace on a battle field.
She barks a lot. A LOT. She growls and barks at dogs and cats on the TV. She also howls like a %^&*ing beagle. This can happen out of the blue for no reason, and it's beyond infuriating. It's 3AM, not a creature in the whole neighborhood is stirring, and suddenly this dog starts howling and barking. Oh, the neighbors are not amused.
She's a digger! Yeah, all dogs will dig, but this is done out of spite. It's a shame I don't have the mineral rights to my lot. If I let her out, and don't supervise her the whole time, she will start excavating.
I could go on, but suffice to say, living with Gail has been a rather unpleasant and thus far unrewarding challenge. If I had known then what she would be like at one year, I would not have gotten this dog.
If there's anything good to say, she seems like she's genuinely happy here. She likes the food, the treats, the car rides, the walks, the games of fetch, and torturing the cat. Sometimes she even seems to like me.
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