Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Monday, April 21, 2014

Good Ole Kansas Boy

NOTE: Received in my email from my cousin that lives in Kansas

A 70 year-old Kansas Farmer goes to the Mayo clinic in Rochester for a check-up.

The doctor is amazed at what good shape the guy is in and asks, 'How do you stay in such great physical condition?'

'I'm from Kansas and in my spare time I like to hunt and fish says the old guy, 'and that's why I'm in such good shape. I'm up well before daylight feeding cattle, mending fences, planting, baling hay, and when I'm not doing that, I'm out hunting or fishing. In the evening, I have a beer and all is well.'

'Well' says the doctor, 'I'm sure that helps, but there's got to be more to it. How old was your father when he died?'

'Who said my father's dead?'

The doctor is amazed. 'You mean you're 70 years old and your father's still alive? How old is he?'

'He's 87 years old,' says the old Kansan. 'In fact he worked with and hunted with me this morning, and then we went to a local bar for a while and had a little beer and that's why he's still alive. He's a Kansas farmer and he's a hunter and fisherman too.'

'Well,' the doctor says, 'that's great, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. How about your father's father? How old was he when he died?'

'Who said my grandpa's dead?'

Stunned, the doctor asks, 'you mean you're 70 years old and your grandfather's still alive?'

'He's 104 years old,' says the man.

The doctor is getting frustrated at this point, 'So, I guess he went hunting with you this morning too?'

'No, Grandpa couldn't go this morning because he's getting married today.'

At this point the doctor is close to losing it. Getting married!!...???? Why would a 104 year-old guy want to get married?'

'Who said he wanted to?'


Sunday, April 20, 2014


I hope the music plays for you

CLICK HERE
From our house to yours

Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Rules of Chocolate


If you get melted chocolate all over your hands,
you're eating it too slowly.

Chocolate covered raisins, cherries, orange slices and strawberries all count as fruit, so eat as many as you want.

The problem:
How to get two pounds of chocolate home
from the store in a hot car.
The solution: Eat it in the parking lot.

Diet tip: Eat a chocolate bar before each meal.
It'll take the edge off your appetite and you'll eat less.

A nice box of chocolates can provide your total
daily intake of calories in one place. Isn't that handy?

If you can't eat all your chocolate, it will keep in
the freezer. But if you can't eat all your chocolate,
what's wrong with you?

If calories are an issue, store your chocolate on top of the fridge. Calories are afraid of heights, and they will jump out of the chocolate to protect themselves.

Money talks. Chocolate sings.

Chocolate has many preservatives.
Preservatives make you look younger.

Why is there no such organization as
Chocoholics Anonymous?
Because no one wants to quit.

Put eat chocolate at the top of your list of things to do today.
That way, at least you'll get one thing done.





Friday, April 18, 2014

Good Friday

Thursday, April 17, 2014

YOU HAVE TO LOVE A GOOD NURSE……

A policeman was rushed to the hospital with an inflamed appendix. After his operation the doctors advised him that all was well. However, the patrolman kept feeling something pulling at the hairs in his crotch.

Worried that it might be another surgery needed that the doctors hadn't told him about yet, he finally got enough energy to pull his hospital gown up sufficiently, that he could look at what was making him so uncomfortable.

Taped firmly across his pubic hair and private parts were three wide strips of adhesive tape, the kind that doesn't come off easily --- if at all...!!!!!!!!

Written on the tape in large black letters was the sentence, "Get well soon, from the nurse in the Ford Explorer you pulled over last week and gave a ticket to!"

Kind of brings tears to your eyes doesn't it?


Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Ladies Restroom

I've seen this before, but it is soooooo funny, wanted to post it again!

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.

Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers"(invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty!

You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't -- so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless (God I should have gone to the gym!!!) thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday -the one that's still in your purse.(Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That will have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.

The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.

It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper -- not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom ever touched a public toilet seat because, frankly dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get".

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in, too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.

You're e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors . . . so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this".

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom.

Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!).

It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse, and hand you Kleenex under the door!

Send this to all women that understand what bonding in the bathroom is all about!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...

Hard to Find...

Supportive....

Comfortable ...

Always Lifts You Up...

Never Lets You Down, or Leaves You Hanging, And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

Share with anyone who needs a good laugh!