Gail’s Pic of the Week
Dogs and Cars
When I first brought Gail home from the farm, she threw up on me. For the next several months Gail would just about always get car sick within a mile or two. She was even unsure of how to get into the car, and I had to help her into the vehicle up until a few months ago.
The good news is that Gail is now an old pro at getting into the car. She can even hop up into the Envoy without any trouble. Keep in mind that Gail is only 1 year and 10 months old at this time. I'd say she is doing pretty good for a gal her age.
Practically all dogs love to go for car rides. They love sticking their head out the window, and they love the sights and smells. Even if you are merely going to the store, the dog loves it when you let them tag along for the ride.
Of course some people don't like it when you take your dog out for a ride. They like to point out that the temperature in a car can soar to over 104°F in under 10 minutes even on mildly warm days. And yes, people who leave dogs in hot cars for an extended time should be held accountable, but it's the 21st century you fucking overzealous busybodies.
Whether it is my Leaf or my Envoy, I can leave the AC running while I run into the store. It could be over 90°F outside, and the dog is doing just fine. In fact, my vehicle's AC is probably cooler than my house. I'm cheap, and I keep my home thermostat on 80°F in the summer, meanwhile the car is blowing out an icy blast that can give my cheeks frostbite.
So before you get all judgmental because you see a dog left in a car, take a moment to notice if maybe, just maybe the the car is humming, and that maybe the AC is on, and the dog is fine. Take a moment to check for that before you get all sanctimonious in the parking lot, you attention seeking narcissistic bag of shit.
Once again, thanks to Big D. I really appreciate that you're keeping the jokes queued up for me on the submission page.
The Golden Soapbox
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Flush Twice is a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes are published every Monday through Friday (midnight EST). There is also a comic and a personal blog in the sidebar that updates on the weekends. We’ve been operating since May of 2003.
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It all boils down to a sudden shift in perception. The story starts you thinking one way, then the punchline turns that thinking on its ear. The art of the joke is to craft a short story that isn’t overly contrived, then deliver a punchline that suddenly shifts your perception about the story you were being told.
Many of the jokes on this site are offensive, and we make no apologies for it. Offensive jokes work by making the reader uncomfortable through the use of a taboo subject thus enhancing the underlying humor. Without the offensive element, the joke would simply not be as funny.
(Just thought you might like to know.)
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A woman heard her husband cussing up a storm from behind the bathroom door. She knocked and asked, “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Her husband emerged from the bathroom and explained, “The doctor prescribed these suppositories, and no matter what I do, I just can’t get the little sucker to go up my ass. Even the doctor had to shove the first one in to show me how it was done, and I tell you, it took forever for him to get it up there and it hurt!”
“You were probably nervous and tense, and he probably wasn’t very gentle with you,” soothed the wife. “Here, let me give you the suppository. I don’t mind, and I’ll promise to be gentle.”
Still grumbling, the husband bent over. His wife put her left hand on his left shoulder to brace him, and with her right hand she quickly and easily slipped the pill up her husband’s rear end.
The husband suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“My God!” said his wife. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”
“No!” cried the man. “But I just realized that when the doctor did it, he had both hands on my shoulders!”
Brian looked down in the dumps, and his friend Larry asked him what was the matter.
“My wife is pregnant again,” signed Brian. “This is the eighth one. I have no idea how I’m going to afford another mouth to feed!”
Larry realized Brian’s predicament and suggested, “Perhaps you should consider getting a vasectomy.”
“I already did,” replied Brian. “All it did was change the color of the babies.”
A man went into a restaurant in Paris with his girlfriend and ordered the 1928 Mouton.
The waiter returned with a bottle of wine, and poured a small amount in the glass for tasting.
The customer picked up the glass, smelled the wine, and put it down on the table with a thud. “This is not the 1928 Mouton.”
The waiter assured him it was, and soon there are another twenty people surrounding the table, including the chef and the manager trying to convince the man that the wine is the 1928 Mouton. Finally someone asked him how he knew that it is not the 1928 Mouton.
“My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I make the wine.”
Finally, the original waiter stepped forward and admitted that he poured the Clerc Milon 1928. “I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. You know Clerc Milon, it is in the same village as Mouton, you pick the grapes at the same time, the same cépage, you crush in the same way, you put them into similar barrels. You bottle at the same time, you even use eggs from the same chickens to fine them. The wines are the same, except for a small matter of geographic location.”
Rothschild beckons the waiter forward, and whispers to him, “When you return home tonight, ask your wife to remove her underwear. Put one finger in each opening, then smell both the fingers. Perhaps then you will understand what difference a small distance in geographic location makes.”
Did you hear about the lunatic who seduced the laundry woman to get her keys so he could escape from the asylum?
The headline in the daily paper read: Nut Screws Washer and Bolts!