I just read an article on the dangers of heavy drinking....
Scared the stuffin out of me.
So that's it!
After today, no more reading.

 

<TABLE class=MsoNormalTable cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 border=0><TBODY><TR><TD style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; PADDING-TOP: 0in" vAlign=top>A winter statistic: 98% OF AMERICANS SCREAM BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD. THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM COLORADO AND THEY SAY, 'HOLD MY SODA AND WATCH THIS'











NOW:

You're from Colorado if You'll eat ice cream in the winter.

When the weather report says it's going to be 65 degrees, you shave your legs and wear a skirt.

It snows 5 inches and you don't expect school to be cancelled.


You'll wear flip flops every day of the year, regardless of temperature.


You have no accent at all, but can hear other people's. And then you make fun of them.


'Humid' is over 25%.


Your sense of direction is: Toward the mountains and Away from the mountains.


You say 'the interstate'and “ Boulder Turnpike” and everybody knows which one.


You think that May is a totally normal month for a blizzard.

You buy your flowers to set out on Mother's day, but try and hold off planting them until just before Father's day.


You grew up planning your Halloween costumes around your coat.


You know what the Continental Divide is.


You don't think Coors beer is that big a deal.


You went to Casa Bonita as a kid, and as an adult.


You've gone off-roading in a vehicle that was never intended for such activities.


You always know the elevation of where you are.


You wake up to a beautiful, 80 degree day and you wonder if it's going to snow tomorrow.


**You don't care that some company renamed it, the Broncos still play at Mile High**


Every movie theater has military and student discounts.


Everybody wears jeans to church.


You actually know that ** South Park ** is a real place not just a show on TV.


You know what a 'trust fund hippy' is, and you know its natural habitat is Boulder .


You know you're talking to a fellow Coloradoan when they call it Elitches, not Six Flags.


A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you.


Your two favorite teams are the Broncos and whoever is beating the crap out of the Raiders.


When people out East tell you they have mountains in their state too, you just laugh.


You go anywhere else on the planet and the air feels 'sticky' and you notice the sky is no longer blue.


</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>

 

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"Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judges' table asking for directions to the beer wagon when the call came. I was assured by the other two judges, both native Texans, that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy and, besides, they told me that I could have free beer during the tasting. So, I accepted."

Here are the scorecards from the event.

----------------------------------------

CHILI #1: MIKE'S MANIAC MOBSTER MONSTER CHILI

JUDGE ONE: "A little too heavy on tomato. Amusing kick."

JUDGE TWO: "Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild."

FRANK: "Holy ****, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. It took me two beers to put out the flames in my throat. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy!"

----------------------------------------

CHILI #2: ARTHUR'S AFTERBURNER CHILI

JUDGE ONE: "Smokey, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang."

JUDGE TWO: "Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously."

FRANK: "Keep this out of the reach of children! I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush me more beer when they saw the look on my face."

----------------------------------------

CHILI #3: FRED'S FAMOUS BURN-DOWN-THE-BARN CHILI

JUDGE ONE: "Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans, though."

JUDGE TWO: "A bean less chili, a bit salty, good use of peppers."

FRANK: "Call the EPA! I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now -- get me more beer before I ignite. Some barmaid pounded me on the back and now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting ****-faced from all the beer."

----------------------------------------

CHILI #4: BUBBA'S BLACK MAGIC

JUDGE ONE: "Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing."

JUDGE TWO: "Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili."

FRANK: "I felt something scraping across my tongue, but I was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the barmaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-lb ***** is starting to look HOT -- just like this nuclear waste I'm eating. Is chili an aphrodisiac?"

----------------------------------------

CHILI #5: LINDA'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER

JUDGE ONE: "Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, add a considerable kick. Very impressive!"

JUDGE TWO: "Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement."

FRANK: "My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead, and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from a pitcher. I wonder if I am burning my lips off? It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks!"

----------------------------------------

CHILI #6: VERA'S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY

JUDGE ONE: "Thin, yet bold, vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice and peppers."

JUDGE TWO: "The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb!"

FRANK: "My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I **** myself when I farted and I'm worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except Sally. I can't feel my lips at all anymore. I need to wipe my *** with a snow cone!"

----------------------------------------

CHILI #7: SUSAN'S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI

JUDGE ONE: "A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers."

JUDGE TWO: "Ho hum, it tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should take note that I am worried about judge number three, he appears to be in a bit of distress as he is now cursing uncontrollably."

FRANK: "You could put a grenade in my mouth and pull the pin and I wouldn't feel a damned thing. I've completely lost the sight in one eye and the world sounds like it's made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili that slid unnoticed by me from my mouth where my lips used to be. My pants are full of lava-like **** that match my damned shirt. At least during the autopsy they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful. I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck in through the four inch hole in my stomach. If they want to cremate me after I die, they'll need an act of Congress to waive the EPA rules and to compensate everyone six counties downwind. Maybe they can bury me in an atomic bomb test site in Nevada."
__________________
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o></o>

 

-Importance of Walking

Walking can add minutes to your life.
This enables you at 85 years old
to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing
home at $7000 per month.

My grandpa started walking
five miles a day when he was 60..
Now he's 97 years old
and we don't know where he is.

I like long walks,
especially when they are taken
by people who annoy me.
The only reason I would take up walking
is so that I could hear heavy breathing again

I have to walk early in the morning,
before my brain figures out what I'm doing..

I joined a health club last year,
spent about 400 bucks.
Haven't lost a pound.
Apparently you have to go there.

Every time I hear the dirty word 'exercise',
I wash my mouth out with chocolate.

I do have flabby thighs,
but fortunately my stomach covers them.

The advantage of exercising every day
is so when you die, they'll say,
'Well, she looks good doesn't she.

If you are going to try cross-country skiing,
start with a small country.

I know I got a lot of exercise
the last few years,......
just getting over the hill.
We all get heavier as we get older,

because there's a lot more information in our heads.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

AND

Every time I start thinking too much
about how I look,
I just find a Happy Hour
and by the time I leave,
I look just fine.

You could run this over to your friends
But just e-mail it to them!

 

THOUGHT MAYBE YOU'D ENJOY THESE LITTLE KNOWN FACTS










Subject: Today's Economy





If you had purchased $1,000.00 of Delta Air Lines stock


one year ago you


would have $49.00 left.


With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original


$1,000.00.





With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left.





But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer one year


ago, drank all of


the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum


recycling REFUND, you


would have $214.00 cash.





Based on the above, the best current investment advice is


to drink heavily


and recycle.





It's called the 401-Keg





A recent study found the average American walks about 900


miles a year.





Another study found Americans drink, on the average,


22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means, on average,


Americans get about 41


miles to the gallon.





Makes You Proud To Be An American

 

THOUGHT MAYBE YOU'D ENJOY THESE LITTLE KNOWN FACTS










Subject: Today's Economy





If you had purchased $1,000.00 of Delta Air Lines stock


one year ago you


would have $49.00 left.


With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original


$1,000.00.





With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left.





But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer one year


ago, drank all of


the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum


recycling REFUND, you


would have $214.00 cash.





Based on the above, the best current investment advice is


to drink heavily


and recycle.





It's called the 401-Keg





A recent study found the average American walks about 900


miles a year.





Another study found Americans drink, on the average,


22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means, on average,


Americans get about 41


miles to the gallon.





Makes You Proud To Be An American

 

There was this young lad that started work his first day at a local drug store where upon he did every thing eagerly as was instructed by his boss until midmorning when he was instructed to set his broom aside and step behind the counter and remain to take orders from customers while the owner stepped out for a bit. Remember lad just take the orders for me and nothing else and lend not advice to which the young man nodded in understanding.

When the druggist returned he asked the lad what he had sold in his absence to which the boy proudly proclaimed that he had sold a bottle of mineral oil to a man with the hiccups. The druggist looked at the boy in disgust and retorted how in the blue blazes did you think selling some one mineral oil would cure the hiccups, the boy simply smiled and said not only did I sell him the bottle but also instructed him to drink all of it on the spot and he would not be plagued by hiccups.

The druggist looked at him in disgust and as he began to reprimand the young fellow he said but sir, it worked because after he did as I told him they were cured in just a few short minutes because if you noticed on the way in here there was that fellow out there clinging to the lamp post in front of your store, well sir right now he is scarred to hiccup.

Disclaimer: That was a joke my granddad told a bunch of years ago and I told it a few times but this is the first time I have ever wrote down a joke in my life.

 

To Whom It May Concern:
You are hereby advised against the posting of the jokes as noted in this thread as a possible health risk. It is hereby noted that the jokes run on this thread can cause asphyxiation, elevated blood flow beyond the capabilities of the circulatory system to maintain, rib splitting fractures associated with severe side pain and can cause loss of control of motorized vehicles.

Anyone that is going to continue to write jokes like these should take notice to place a Warning at the beginning in plain view and use universal warnings to indicate the possible need of oxygen, a phone handy for 911 calls and an Ace bandage to put around your ribs to lessen severity of shock to the rib cage from all the laughing.

Thank you, that was some great stuff so far, wish I had found it earlier.

 

I originally posted this in March of '04.


This is from another place and time but I just had to share;

We always knew there was something sinister about squirrels... Neighborhood Hazard (or: Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street Anymore) Author: Daniel Meyer Posted: 10/26/2003; 7:17:42 PM

I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect ... I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it - it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest.

Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little Tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing...

I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary p*ssed-off squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH ! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.

I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well ... I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle ... my brain was just simply overloaded.

I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant **** attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however.

The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment) so her front end started to drop. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet.

By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ... so to speak. Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and was aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.

So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me, shooting me the finger ... That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And some bandaids.

 

Oh my GOD !!! that was the funniest thing I have read in a LONG time lol !!!!!

 

Something like that would either make you take up Christianity or give it up depending on which side of the fence you were on. It would most certainly be my last trip down that street, ever. The only thing that made that unbearably funny was that it was not happening to me.

 

This is true of Utah also.......maybe even more so.

PHONES IN CHURCH

A man in Topeka, Kansas, decided to write a
book about churches around the country. He started by flying to New York
and started working West from there.

Going to a very large church he began taking
photographs and making notes.

He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule
wall and was intrigued with a sign which read, 'Calls: $10,000 A
Minute.'

Seeking out the pastor he asked about the
phone and the sign. The Pastor answered that this golden phone is, in
fact, a direct line to heaven and if he pays the price he can talk
directly to God.

The man thanked the Pastor and continued on his way. As he continued
to visit churches in Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago ,
Milwaukee, and around the United States , he found more phones with the
same sign and the same answer from each pastor.

Finally he arrived in Colorado . Upon entering St. James church in
Meeker, behold - he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the
sign read, 'Calls: 35 cents.'

Fascinated he asked to talk to the Pastor. 'Reverend, I have been in
cities all across the country and in each church I have found this
golden telephone and have been told it is a direct line to heaven, and that I
could talk to God but in the other churches the cost was $10,000 a minute.
Your sign reads only 35 cents a call. Why?'





I love this part...................




The pastor, smiling benignly, replied, 'Son, you're in Colorado now
..... You're in God's country. It's a local call.'

Sundance ya knew this was gonna make it here!

 

Well shoot, from my angle on things here in Wyo I' am just a state away from a local call.

 

Too Funny and not all that far from the truth....

But everytime somone picks up that phone one of the voices in my head gets the call? Must be a god complex hidden up there...

 

A man and a woman were dating. She being of a religious nature had
> Held back the worldly pleasure that he wanted from her so bad. In
> Fact, he had never even seen her naked.
>
>
> One day, as they drove down the freeway, she remarked about his slow
> Driving habits. I can't stand it anymore,' she told him. 'Let's play
> A game.
>
> For every 5 miles per hour over the speed limit you drive, I'll
> Remove one piece of clothing.
>
> He enthusiastically agreed and sped up the car.
> He reached the 55 MPH mark, so she took off her blouse.
>
> At 60 off came the pants.
>
> At 65 it was her bra and at 70 her panties.
>
> Now seeing her naked for the first time and traveling faster than he
> Ever had before, he became very excited and lost control of the car.
>
> He veered off the road, went over an embankment and hit a tree. His
> Girlfriend was not hurt but he was trapped. She tried to pull him
> Free but alas he was stuck.
>
> 'Go to the road and get help,' he said.
>
> 'I don't have anything to cover myself with!' she replied. The man
> felt around, but could only reach one of his shoes. 'You'll have to
> put this between your legs to cover it up,' he told her.
> So she did as he said and went up to the road for help.
>
> Along came a truck driver. Seeing a naked, crying woman along the
> Road, he pulled over to hear her story.
>
> 'My boyfriend! My boyfriend!' she sobs, 'He's stuck and I can't pull
> him out!'
>
> The truck driver looking down at the shoe between her legs replies,
> 'Ma'am, if he's in that far, I'm afraid he's a goner!'