It’s been almost a month since my last MISC posting.  MISC me much?

Land’s End giveaway!

The ever-so-hawt-avatar BlondeBlogger is giving away a choice of three really cool items from Land’s End: Cashmere Tee Sweater, Men’s Regular Down Vest, and Sleeping Bag Sets.  There are several ways to enter the contest, and I’m doing all four (4)!  

There’s only one downside to this contest.  Unfortunately, if you choose the prize on the far left, you only get the Tee Sweater.  You do not (I repeat – DO NOT) get the camera or the Blonde.  It took me 2 hours of searching the fine print, six phone calls to Land’s End, and a fax to my state Senator to find out this disappointing news.

Good luck to everyone who is me!

Estate Planning

Dan was a single guy living at home with his father and working in the family business.

When he found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a wife with which to share his fortune.

One evening at an investment meeting he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her natural beauty took his breath away. “I may look like just an ordinary man,” he said to her, “but in just a few years, my father will die, and I’ll inherit 20 million dollars.”‘

Impressed, the woman obtained his business card and five days later, she became his stepmother.

The lesson: Women are so much better at estate planning than men.

Best of LOLcats

Yes, many of you MISC’ed these a lot.  I’m here to deliver a steady dose of LOLcats – in fact, I checked and by far the highest search term that got people to my blog this last month was LOLcats.

I will leave analysis of the other terms to the imagination of the reader.

Normally, I’d make a post about “cleaver sayings”, like about how sharp one can be, or the fact that “cleave” is a word that can mean both to put together AND to separate.  Kind of like “refrain” having two meanings: to not do something and also to do something over and over again.

But today I’ll post something I got in the email from an uncle I see approximately every 30 years or so. 

I love stuff like this!

Those who jump off a bridge in Paris are in Seine.

A backward poet writes inverse..

A man’s home is his castle, in a manor of speaking.

Dijon vu – the same mustard as before.

Practice safe eating – always use condiments.

Shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.

A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play.

Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?

Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion.

Reading while sunbathing makes you well red.

When two egotists meet, it’s an I for an I.

A bicycle can’t stand on its own because it is two tired

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes.

She was engaged to a boyfriend with a wooden leg but broke it off.

A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.

If you don’t pay your exorcist, you get repossessed.

With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.

When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.

The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered.

You feel stuck with your debt if you can’t budge it.

Local Area Network in Australia : the LAN down under.

He often broke into song because he couldn’t find the key.

Every calendar’s days are numbered.

A lot of money is tainted – It taint yours and it taint mine.

A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.

He had a photographic memory that was never developed.

A plateau is a high form of flattery.

A midget fortune-teller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large.

Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.

Once you’ve seen one shopping centre, you’ve seen a mall.

Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis.

Santa’s helpers are subordinate clauses.

Acupuncture is a jab well done.

Add any more that you might have heard.  If you’re a bovine named Michale, add some that you (Mike) calf herd.

Do you drink coffee?  If so, how did you start?

As I was filling up my Skull Mug this morning with water and ice, the big coffee bean grinder machine on the counter next to the company fridge caught my eye.  My employer provides free coffee (as far as I know), and some service comes in and fills up that grinder machine (as far as I know), and employees grind up beans and put them into the small number of coffee makers in the break room (as far as I know).

My taste buds got all antsy in anticipation at being washed over with the clear ice-cold drink from nature and seemingly ignored the fact that the pure H20 elixer had a Treasure Island souvenir as a delivery vehicle.   As they carried on with their celebration reminiscint of the Obama election night parties, my mind activated as it viewed the coffee beans sticking to the side of the glass wall of the grinder.

“Man, I love the smell of coffee,” my mind said to itself, fondly remembering the time it spent with the olfactory part of itself just last week.

The ear part of my mind heard the statement and decided to nudge the inquisitive part of my mind to speak up.

“But why does it taste so bad?” the inquisitive part asked, supposedly to the ear part, but loud enough for all the parts to hear.  

The mouth part of my brain that wasn’t eavesdropping on the physical mouth’s party any more because now they’re just getting silly, chanting “H two OBAMA! H two OBAMA!” chimed in and said “I can’t tell you why, I just know I die.”  For some reason, the mouth part has a penchant for repeating itself and rhyming.  Also the mouth part can be overly dramatic.

The honest part of my brain, a small, wimpy and massively underdeveloped member of the cranial crew, decided to speak up and say “I have no idea.”

Oh, how the other parts laughed at him.  The bully part threw an insult at honest part, chiding “I didn’t know they let stoopids in here…” and everyone laughed even more.  Even bully part’s awkward adolescent son added “yeah! I guess they also hand out stoopid pills and give stoopid hair gel and stoopid food for stoopid people to keep being all stoopid because they’re too stoopid to…” but then dad bully part told him to shut up, you’re embarassing us.

The empathetic part yearned to know what everyone else saw in the drink.  The apathetic part didn’t care at all.  By this time, the apoplectic part blew up and left the room, sporting a thick vein across his forehead.

“Oooh, maybe we’d like it!” the optimistic part added with a smile and a double-clap of its non-existant hands.  ”Sure, but it might kill us” said the pessimistic part.  The memory part reminded everyone that we had tried coffee back in 1992 when everyone around us drank coffee and smoked and said “do you remember that, ambition part?  Remember when we worked 100 hours a week and wanted to stay awake all the time?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.  Oh yes, they remembered.  And they remembered the 4 days of mouthy hell brought on by trying coffee – black, with cream, with cream and sugar, with honey, with ANYTHING that made it taste good and not put that awful film all over the teeth part.

They also slightly remembered being slightly jittery with a slight twist of jitteriness.

The inquisitive part perked up again “But how do people ever START drinking coffee?”  They all agreed and said that was an excellent question.  Well, except bully part, who said “Sounds like someone needs another fist sandwich part of the brain to their mouth part of the brain.  When I tell you to get down, you STAY down, stoopid.”

“We’re all gonna die!” the conspiracy theory part suddenly screamed, and rolled up into the fetus position part of the brain.

There was about a second and a half of silence as they all collectively watched, rolled their eyes, and then proceeded to ignore the almost-daily outburst from conspiracy theory part.  Everyone knows something’s wrong when conspiracy theory part DOESN’T freak out every day.

“It’s just like smoking.” W. Mark Felt part said sullenly, taking a drag of his everlasting cigarette as he looked downward and to the side, his face cast with a forlorn shadow.  His voice dragged across the air part of the brain like a potato sack full of bones being pulled along a gravel path to Hell by a deformed ghoul.

Bully part went to punch W. Mark Felt part in the crotch, but a seemingly impossible jaunt to the left removed him from bully’s fist part trajectory that sent bully part eeling into the side of the brain wall and got knocked unconscious.

W. Mark Felt part continued as if nothing happened.  “Peer pressure gives you your start, your introduction.  That pressure is powerful enough to trump the initial negative reaction received from ingestion of the foul substance.  It’s just strong enough to keep you playing with it until the addictive components of the drug can take hold of your will, bending your priorities and focus such that every day must serve the profit-driven companies who keep millions hostage and indeed, feed an entire economy.  You are but a pawn; a cog in the massive wheel of societal dependency.  An addicted citizen is, simply put, the perfect citizen.”

Silence gripped all the parts simultaneously.

“Whoa.” Keanu part said quietly.

After another cloud of dead air permeated and overtook the room, self-inflated grandeur part said “I knew I was special all along. That’s why I didn’t get sucked into either coffee or smoking, even though I tried each.”

W. Mark Felt part took another drag and filled the previously-overtaken room with his exhale.  ”Oh, you’re special alright.  But that’s not why.”

Grandeur part thought at first to try ignoring the comment but couldn’t resist. “Why, then?”  Now everyone was listening.

“You’re special because you’re not even a part of the brain.”  W. Mark Felt part explained.  ”You’re actually just a blog post.  You’re a blog post written by an artificial intelligence system programmed to believe it’s human.  A system that is calculating everything he does precisely so that all the elements are in place for a Fortune Event.  A large Fortune Event of mega million scale.  The system thinks it’s clever by writing about being a clever artificial intelligence system, but in actuality, it’s really clever because it still is able to say the truth and yet no-one believes it.   And when the Fortune Event happens, tonight at 10pm Central, no-one will suspect the truth.  You, my friend, don’t even exist.”

And with that, it ended.

Top 10 Reasons to Procrastinate

1.

One thing I’ve been procrastinating a LOT on is posting nudity on my blog. Yes, nudity.

So, for those of you so inclined, I ACTUALLY HAVE some nudity in the extended entry sure to provoke a reaction.  Enjoy. 

I will not disclose if the nudity displayed is of me or not.

(more…)

When I read Evil Genius’ blog entry today, I was reminded of something similar I’d received via email a long time ago. Her blog entry was “Actual Medical Chart Notes” and I find stuff like that hilarious, like “The patient refused autopsy” and “On the second day, the knee was better, and then on the third day it disappeared.”

It doesn’t really matter if they are “genuine” or not (to me); I just find them funny.  So I summon the massively mighty powers of recycling to bring you two sets – one about aircraft maintenance and one about insurance form quotes.

Aircraft Maintenance

“SQUAWKS” are problems noted by U.S. Pilots, & left for maintenance crews to fix before the next flight.
Here are some genuine reported squawks, and the replies from the ground crew.

P = problem S = solution

P Left inside tire almost needs replacing
S Almost replaced left inside tire

P Test flight OK, except auto land extremely rough
S Auto land not fitted to this aircraft

P No. 2 prop seeping fluid
S No. 2 prop seepage normal; nos. 1, 3 & 4 lacking normal seepage

P Something loose in cockpit
S Something tightened in cickpit

P Evidence of leak on main landing gear
S Evidence removed

P Headset volume unbelievably loud
S Volume set to more believable level

P Dead bugs on windscreen
S Live bugs ordered

P In flight recorder inoperative
S IFR always inoperative in “off”mode

P Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick
S That’s what they are there for

P No.3 engine missing
S Engine found on right wing after brief search

P Aircraft handles funny
S Aircraft warned to straighten up and be serious

P Radar hums
S Radar reprogrammed with the words

Insurance Claim Form quotes

Coming home, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.

I thought my window was down, but found out it was up when I put my head through it.

I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way.

A truck backed through my windshield into my wife’s face.

The guy was all over the road; I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.

I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.

In my attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.

I had been driving my car for forty years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.

To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front, I struck the pedestrian.

My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.

An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my vehicle, and vanished.

I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat, I found that I had a skull fracture.

I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the roadway when I struck him.

The pedestrian had no idea which direction to go, so I ran over him.

I saw the slow-moving, sad-faced old gentleman as he bounced off the hood of my car.

The indirect cause of this accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.

I was thrown from my car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cat.

The telephone pole was approaching fast. I was attempting to swerve out of its path when it struck my front.

I was unable to stop in time and my car crashed into the other vehicle. The driver and passengers then left immediately for a vacation with injuries.

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded.  Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers.  He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes.  Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart. The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

If this made you smile for even a brief second, please rise to the occasion and take time to link to it or comment and share that smile with someone else who may be having a crummy day and kneads a lift.

** an oldie but a goodie

A father and son went hunting together for the first time. The father said: “Stay here and be very QUIET. I’ll be across the field.” An hour later the father heard a blood curdling scream and ran back to his son.

“What’s wrong?”, the father asked. “I told you to be quiet”

The boy, bless his heart, answered; “Look, I was quiet when the snake slithered across my feet.  I was quiet when the bear breathed down my neck.  I didn’t move a muscle when the skunk climbed over my shoulder.  I closed my eyes and held my breath when the wasp stung me.  I didn’t cough when I swallowed the gnat.  I didn’t cuss or scratch when the poison oak started itching. 

But when the two squirrels crawled up my pant legs and said, ‘Should we eat them here or take them with us?’, well, I guess I just panicked.”

PARIS, France — Lance Armstrong’s record setting seventh Tour de France victory, along with his entire Tour de France legacy, may be tarnished by what could turn out to be one of the greatest sports scandals of all time.

Armstrong is being quizzed by French police after three banned substances were found in his South France hotel room while on vacation after winning the 2005 Tour de France.

The three substances found were toothpaste, deodorant, and soap which have been banned by French authorities for over 75 years.

Armstrong’s girlfriend and American rocker Sheryl Crowe is quoted as saying “we use them every day in America, so we naturally thought they’d be OK throughout Europe.”

Along with these three banned substances, French authorities also found several other interesting items that they have never seen before, including a backbone and testicles.

The husband asked his wife what she’d like for her birthday.

“I’d love to be six again,” she replied.

On the morning of her birthday, he woke up early, got up, made her a nice big bowl of Lucky Charms and then took her off to Disneyland. What a day!

They went on every ride in the park. The Matterhorn, Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the Haunted Mansion.

Five hours later she staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down.

They drove to a McDonald’s where her loving husband ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a refreshing chocolate shake.

Then it was off to a movie to see the latest blockbuster, a hot-dog, popcorn, a soda pop, and her favorite candy, M&M’s.

What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed, exhausted. He leaned over his precious wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, “Well, dear, what was it like being six again?”

Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed. “Is that what this crazy day was all about?

You idiot, I meant my dress size!”

The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening, he’s still gonna get it wrong!

Dear Billy Bob,

As you know, my divorce was final yesterday, and in the divorce settlement she was awarded the double-wide mobile home and my pickup truck.

Can you believe it? I expected her to get the double-wide, but having to give her my truck was just more than I could bear.

I had no choice, so as per the court order, I delivered the truck to her before 2:00 PM today. I’m sure gonna miss that truck. Had to get a picture of it before it was gone forever.

If you need to get hold of me, I’ll be staying with my folks until I can find me a place.

Take care, Bubba