Kids, Pets and Wives
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
:omg::omg: :laugh::laugh::laugh::laugh::laugh::laugh: Man, that was great after a hard day's work! 5 points for that! Notorious SMC
The difference between the almost-right word & the right word is a really large matter - it's the difference between the lightning bug and the Lightning Mark Twain
Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please Mark Twain -
Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D
Paul Watson wrote: "At the end of the day it is what you produce that counts, not how many doctorates you have on the wall." George Carlin wrote: "Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things." Jörgen Sigvardsson wrote: If the physicists find a universal theory describing the laws of universe, I'm sure the asshole constant will be an integral part of that theory.
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
My fellow gophers (what we call each other in cube-land) all thought I was insane I laughed so hard. It eventually got the whole office laughing. :laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D :laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D :laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D :laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D :laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D:laugh::):-D .............Zack............. Developer Extraordinaire "It's all about function over form. I mean, look at NASA. Their code isn't formatted correctly and their stuff looks crappy, but, they'll get you to the moon." GCS\P\SS d- s-:- a-- C++$ U--- P--- L- E- W++ N o K-? w+++ O++ !M-- V PS+ PE Y+ PGP t+ 5+ X+ R++ tv++ b++ DI++ D+++ G+>G++++ e* h- r++ y+
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
ROTFLMAO! You got my 5! My latest article: GBVB - Converting VB.NET code to C#
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;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D ;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D;P:omg::-D
Paul Watson wrote: "At the end of the day it is what you produce that counts, not how many doctorates you have on the wall." George Carlin wrote: "Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things." Jörgen Sigvardsson wrote: If the physicists find a universal theory describing the laws of universe, I'm sure the asshole constant will be an integral part of that theory.
How long did it take you to create that? Nice creativity. LOL!
Vikram. ----------------------------- My site due for a massive update. To make anonymous posts is also to follow the way of the coward. "Do not give redundant error messages again and again." - A classmate of mine, while giving a class talk on error detection in compiler design. -
How long did it take you to create that? Nice creativity. LOL!
Vikram. ----------------------------- My site due for a massive update. To make anonymous posts is also to follow the way of the coward. "Do not give redundant error messages again and again." - A classmate of mine, while giving a class talk on error detection in compiler design.Copy and paste is my friend :-D Ray = King of the Ctrl-C / Ctrl-V
Paul Watson wrote: "At the end of the day it is what you produce that counts, not how many doctorates you have on the wall." George Carlin wrote: "Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things." Jörgen Sigvardsson wrote: If the physicists find a universal theory describing the laws of universe, I'm sure the asshole constant will be an integral part of that theory.
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Got this yesterday and I thougth it is worth to post it on CP (even though it is a long one). If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!" "Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce", I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!", they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to
A repost, but still just as funny the second time around! :laugh: Anna :rose: Homepage | My life in tears "Be yourself - not what others think you should be" - Marcia Graesch "Anna's just a sexy-looking lesbian tart" - A friend, trying to wind me up. It didn't work. Trouble with resource IDs? Try the Resource ID Organiser Visual C++ Add-In