I love this one, it comes around every year

An extremely modest man was in the hospital for a series of tests, the
last
of which had left his bodily system extremely upset. Upon making
several
false alarm trips to the bathroom, he decided the latest episode was
another and stayed put. He suddenly filled his bed with diarrhea and
was
embarrassed beyond his ability to remain rational.

In a complete loss of composure he jumped out of bed, gathered up the
sheets & threw them out the hospital window.

A drunk was walking by the hospital when the sheets landed on him. He
started yelling, cursing and swinging his arms violently trying to get
the
unknown things off and he ended up with the soiled sheets in a tangled
pile
at his feet.

As the drunk stood there, unsteady on his feet, staring down at the
sheets,
a hospital security guard, (barely containing his laughter) who had
watched
the whole incident walked up and asked "What the hell is going on
here?".

The drunk, still staring down, replied:
"I think I just beat the **** out of a ghost".

 

u said **** wtf

 

Ok read this even tho it's long trust me it's worth it....we both know your bored at work anyways!

Dear Friends, My wife Toni is fond of saying that my last words on this
earth will be something akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!"
Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true
story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes.

Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my
fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought
something really cool for Toni. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and
I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came
across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For
those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a
less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an
assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you
flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no
long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time
to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed
assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering,
goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've
never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing
out--way too cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two
triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was
so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin'
directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would
not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire
for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it
against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting
back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did
so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee . . I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet
to explain to Toni what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it
couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc.
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Gracie) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie for a fraction of a
second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet kitty, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Toni to protect herself against a
mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I
wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time.

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses
perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer
in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and
disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle
spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly
make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the
while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than
3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy,
bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" Friggin'
way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those
of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm
sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as
to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a
tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking
under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a
one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision
is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a
bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time.
Don't ya hate that?)

I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY
**************! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran
in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body
slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up
on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, ********* nowhere to be
found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest
position. Gracie was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never
heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it
again, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself
with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second
burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing
until it is dislodged from your hand by ! a violent thrashing about on the
floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4"
deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-***** that hurt! A minute
or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point),
I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the
landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How
did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both ******* were still
twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my
bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.

By the way, has anyone seen my *********? I think they ran away. I'm
offering a reward. They're round, rather large, kinda' hairy, and handsome
if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.

 

Fawk, I ain't reading all that! Summerize woman!!!!

 

no! learn to read Don't act like you have anything better to do

 

I'm sitting here nekkid with nothing on but a towel!


So it's not "I don't have anything better to do", I'm lazy!!!


So SUMMERIZE WOMAN!!

 

I'm waiting!

 

GAY!.... dumb joke!