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|-- A heart-warming pilot's story
-- Are you from the South
Letter from someone who writes, and farms.
-- The Broken Lawn Mower
Summer in Texas
-- Pocket Tazer Stun Gun
The Broken Lawn Mower
Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is usually the husband.
When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first: the truck, the car, e-mail, fishing, always something more important to me.
Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a few minutes, when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush. 'When you finish cutting the grass,' I said, 'You might as well sweep the driveway."
The doctors say I will walk again, but I'll always have a limp.
| Are you from
Southern women appreciate their natural assets:
A winning smile.
That unforgettable Southern drawl.
Southern women know their manners:
"Why, no, Billy!"
Southern women have a distinct way with fond expressions :
"Y'all come back!"
"Well, bless your heart."
"Drop by when you can."
"How's your Momma?"
Southern women know their summer weather report:
Southern women know their vacation spots:
Southern women know the joys of June, July, and August:
Colorful hi-heel sandals
Strapless sun dresses
Iced sweet tea with mint
Southern women know everybody's first name:
Southern women know the movies that speak to their hearts:
Fried Green Tomatoes
Driving Miss Daisy
Gone With The Wind
Southern women know their religions:
Southern women know their country breakfasts:
Mouth-watering homemade biscuits with momma's homemade jelly
Southern women know their cities dripping with Southern charm:
Southern women know their elegant gentlemen:
Men in uniform..
Men in tuxedos
Southern girls know their prime real estate:
The Country Club
The Beauty Salon
Southern girls know the three deadly sins:
Having bad hair and nails
Having bad manners
Cooking bad food
Only a Southerner knows the difference between a hissie fit and a conniption fit. You have a hissy (or hissie) fit - but you throw a conniption fit (as in she caught him right in th head with th skillet).
Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip
greens, peas, beans, etc., make up "a mess."
Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general
direction of "yonder."
Only a Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is, . as in:
"Going to town, be back directly."
Even Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a
request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty
little bowl in the middle of the table.
All Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is. They might not
use the term, but they know the concept well.
Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of
solace for a neighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken
and a big bowl of cold potato salad. If the neighbor's trouble is a
real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin!
Only Southerners grow up knowing the difference between "right near"and "a right far piece." They also know that just down th road is the distance you can ride a horse in about an hour in a general leisure pace. That would be about 4 miles, as th crow flies. Anything near that would be purty close.
Only a Southerner, both knows and understands, the difference
between a redneck, a good ol' boy, and po' white trash.
No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the
flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.
A Southerner knows that "fixin" can be used as a noun, a verb,
or an adverb.
Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines, ... and
when we're "in line," we talk to everybody!
Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover
they're related, even if only by marriage.
In the South, y'all is singular, all y'all is plural.
Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.
Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and
coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast
food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.
When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin'," you
know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!
Only true Southerners say "sweet tea" and "sweet milk." Sweet
tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it -- we do not like our
tea unsweetened. "Sweet milk" means you don't want buttermilk.
And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at
little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say,"Bless
her heart" ... and go your own way.
To those of you who are still a little embarrassed by your
Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call
me in the morning.. Bless your heart!
And to those of you who are still having a hard time
understanding all this Southern stuff, ... bless your hearts, I hear
they are fixin' to have classes on Southernness as a second language!
And for those that are not from the South but have lived here
for a long time, all y'all need a sign to hang on y'alls front porch
that reads "I ain't from the South, but I got here as fast as I could."
Now...... Shugah, send this to someone who was raised in the
South or wish they had been!
If you're a Northern transplant, Bless your little heart, fake
it. We know you got here as fast as you could!
Names have been removed to protect the stupid !
Actual Letter from someone who writes, and farms.
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.
The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.
I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope.
The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back.
They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up -- 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me.
I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation.
I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.
The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.
That deer EXPLODED.
The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I
could fight down with a rope and with some dignity.
A deer-- no chance.
That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined.
The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.
A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.
I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere.
At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.
Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have it suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute.
I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.
Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head --almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.
The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective.
It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.
Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp.
I learned a long time ago that, when an animal -- like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.
This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy.
I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.
The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head.
Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.
I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope so that they can be somewhat equal to the Prey.
heart-warming pilot's story...!
From Charles Cain
During a commercial airline flight an Air Force Pilot was seated next to a young mother with a babe in arms.
When the baby began crying during the descent for landing, the mother began nursing the infant as discreetly as possible.
The pilot pretended not to notice and, upon disembarking, he gallantly offered his assistance to help with the various baby-related impedimenta.
When the young mother expressed her gratitude, the pilot responded, "Gosh, that's a good looking baby....and he sure was hungry!"
Somewhat embarrassed, the mother explained that her pediatrician said nursing would help alleviate the pressure in the baby's ears.
The Air Force Pilot sadly shook his head, and in true pilot fashion exclaimed, "And all these years, I've been chewing gum."
I found this summer poem and thought
it might help make your day.
It did mine, and it's very well written.
From Linda Freeman
' Summer in Texas '
It's Hot !
| Just try
reading this without laughing till you cry!!!
Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....?? WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie 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, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving 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 cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
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, and 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 major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
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 possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best . . .
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . .
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs? The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
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 will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor, a three second burst would be considered conservative?
IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses where on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
P.S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it! If you think education is difficult, try being stupid.