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Post by chicobrownbear on Jul 2, 2007 9:40:07 GMT -5
I'm above average.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Jun 19, 2007 13:00:24 GMT -5
He later died after complications from chronic jock itch.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Apr 17, 2007 7:58:56 GMT -5
To get an IU grad off of your front porch, pay them for the pizza. (sorry dgreyhound!)
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Post by chicobrownbear on Mar 14, 2007 13:34:24 GMT -5
Chico I though your wife made you get rid of that purse!!!!!! ;D ;D ;D Its a man bag I will have you know.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Jan 16, 2007 10:53:51 GMT -5
We also would have accepted dead in heaven.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 29, 2006 15:27:17 GMT -5
Sign me up.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 27, 2006 14:32:46 GMT -5
We don't have a Target, wish this would happen at Wal-Mart! It does, but the women that run the Wal Mart ring are dumb as a mule and twice as ugly.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 22, 2006 9:13:45 GMT -5
Eerily true.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 21, 2006 14:57:40 GMT -5
He made union steward for the 18th year running too. Just wasn't cut out for the HR department.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 21, 2006 10:47:36 GMT -5
They don't make them like that anymore.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 19, 2006 12:58:38 GMT -5
mmmmmm Gluttony.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 14, 2006 8:19:12 GMT -5
As I work for a government entity, I declare this both hilarious and sadly true.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Dec 5, 2006 10:23:37 GMT -5
Little Leroy came into the kitchen where his mother was making dinner. Christmas was coming up and he thought this was a good time to tell his mother what he wanted. "Mom, I want a bike for Christmas."
Little Leroy was a bit of a troublemaker. He had gotten into trouble at school and at home. Leroy's mother asked him if he thought he deserved to get a bike for his birthday. Little Leroy, of course, thought he did.
Leroy's mother, being a Christian woman, wanted him to reflect on his behavior over the last year and write a letter to God and tell him why he deserved a bike for Christmas.
Little Leroy stomped up the steps to his room and sat down to write God a letter.
LETTER 1:
Dear God: I have been a very good boy this year and I would like a bike for Christmas. I want a red one. Your friend, Leroy
Leroy knew this wasn't true. He had not been a very good boy this year, so he tore up the letter and started over.
LETTER 2:
Dear God: This is your friend Leroy. I have been a pretty good boy this year, and I would like a red bike for Christmas. Thank you, Leroy
Leroy knew this wasn't true either. He tore up the letter and started again.
LETTER 3:
Dear God: I have been an OK boy this year and I would really like a red bike for Christmas. Thank you, Leroy
Leroy knew he could not send this letter to God either, so he wrote another letter.
LETTER 4:
Dear God: I know I haven't been a good boy this year. I am very sorry. I will be a good boy if you just send me a red bike for Christmas. Thank you, Leroy
Leroy knew, even if it was true, this letter was not going to get him a bike. By now, Leroy was very upset. He went downstairs and told his mother he wanted to go to church. Leroy's mother thought her plan had worked because Leroy looked very sad. "Just be home in time for dinner," his mother said.
Leroy walked down the street to the church and up to the altar. He looked around to see if anyone was there. He picked up a statue of the Virgin Mary. He slipped it under his shirt and ran out of the church, down the street, into his house, and up to his room. He shut the door to his room and sat down with a piece of paper and a pen. Leroy began to write his letter to God.
LETTER 5: I GOT YOUR MAMA. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, SEND THE BIKE. Signed, YOU KNOW WHO.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 29, 2006 19:43:09 GMT -5
Too true. Too true.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 14, 2006 15:35:09 GMT -5
A big city lawyer went duck hunting in Southern Indiana. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer's field on the other side of a fence.
As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.
The litigator responded, "I shot a duck. It fell in this field, and now I'm going to retrieve it."
The old farmer replied, "This is my property, and you are not coming over here."
The indignant lawyer said, "I am one of the best trial attorneys in the United States and, if you don't let me get that duck, I'll sue you and take everything you own.
The old farmer smiled and said, "Apparently, you don't know how we settle disputes in Southern Indiana. We settle small disagreements like this with the "Three Kick Rule."
The lawyer asked, "What is the Three Kick Rule?"
The Farmer replied, "Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, first I kick you three times and then you kick me three times and so on back and forth until someone gives up."
The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom.
The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the attorney. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel toed work boot into the lawyer's groin and dropped him to his knees. His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer's last meal gushing from his mouth. The lawyer was on all fours when the farmer's third kick to his rear end sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie.
The lawyer summoned every bit of his will and managed to get to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, "Okay, you old fart. Now it's my turn."
The old farmer smiled and said, "Naw, I give up. You can have the duck."
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 15, 2006 8:28:00 GMT -5
How's the couch Woody?
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 3, 2006 13:27:50 GMT -5
Beware...
While walking down the street one day a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies.
His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in," says the man.
"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."
"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the senator.
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.
Also present is the devil, who really is a very friend ly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.
Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises...
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.
"Now it's time to visit heaven."
So, 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
"Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity."
The senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell."
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.
He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don't understand," stammers the senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?"
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning...... Today you voted."
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 3, 2006 11:28:49 GMT -5
Words of wisdom.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Nov 2, 2006 16:07:17 GMT -5
Fifty-one years ago, Herman James, a North Carolina mountain man, was drafted into the Army.
On his first day in basic training, the Army issued him a comb.
That afternoon the Army barber sheared off all his hair.
On his second day, the Army issued Herman a toothbrush.
That afternoon the Army dentist yanked seven of his teeth.
On the third day, the Army issued him a jock strap.
The Army has been looking for Herman for 51 years.
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Post by chicobrownbear on Oct 27, 2006 13:49:24 GMT -5
Isn't there a sign north of Indy on 65 "Home of the Trunk Monkey?" I laugh everytime.
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