LAWNMOWER AND ELECTRIC FENCE

[retired2]

LAWNMOWER AND ELECTRIC FENCE.---funny
>
> If you have ever used an electric fence or know someone who has one you
> should read this.
>
> If you don't laugh hysterically at this, CHECK YOUR PULSE... this is
> funny... and true. This was sent by a retired dentist.
>
> We have the standard 6 ft. fence in the backyard, and a few months ago, I
> heard about burglaries increasing dramatically in the entire city. To make
> sure this never happened to me, I got an electric fence and ran a single
> wire along the top of the fence.
>
> Actually, I got the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made for 26
> miles of fence. I then used an 8 ft. long ground rod, and drove it 7.5 ft.
> into the ground. The ground rod is the key, with the more you have in the
> ground, the better the fence works..
>
> One day I'm mowing the back yard with my cheapo Wal-Mart 6 hp big wheel
> push mower. The hot wire is broken and laying out in the yard. I knew for
> a fact that I unplugged the charger. I pushed the mower around the wire
> and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of the way.
>
> It seems as though I hadn't remembered to unplug it after all.
>
> Now I'm standing there, I've got the running lawnmower in my right hand
> and the 1.7 giga-volt fence wire in the other hand. Keep in mind the
> charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a picture of an
> upside down cow on fire on the cover.
>
> Time stood still.
>
> The first thing I notice is my pecker trying to climb up the front side of
> my body. My ears curled downwards and I could feel the lawnmower ignition
> firing in the backside of my brain. Every time that Briggs & Stratton
> rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head. I was literally at one
> with the engine.
>
> It seems as though the fence charger and the piece of shit lawnmower were
> fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.
>
> Science says you cannot crap, pee, and vomit at the same time. I beg to
> differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels emptied 3
> different times in less than half of a second. It was a Matrix kind of
> bowel movement, where time is creeping along and you're all layed back and
> BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 times. It seemed like there were
> minutes in between but in reality it was so close together. It was like
> exhaust pulses from a big block Chevy turning 8 grand.
>
> At this point I'm about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the
> fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I can't let
> go. I grew up on a farm so I know all about electric fences. But Dad
> always had those piece of shit chargers made by International or whoever
> that were like
> 9 volts and just kinda tickled.
>
> This one I could not let go of. The 8 ft. long ground rod is now accepting
> signals from me through the permadamp Ark-La-Tex river bottom soil. At
> this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to just man up and take it,
> until the lawnmower runs out of gas.
>
> 'Damn!,' I think, as I remember I just filled the tank!
>
> Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough. It has settled into a loping
> run pattern as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam in it.
> Covered in poop, pee, and with my vomit on my chest, I think 'Oh God
> please die... Pleeeeaze die'. But nooooo, it settles into the rough lumpy
> cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore roller cam EFI motor
> waiting for the go command from its owner's right foot.
>
> So here I am in the middle of July, 104 degrees, 80% humidity, standing in
> my own backyard, begging God to kill me. God did not take me that day. He
> left me there covered in my own fluids to writhe in the misery my own
> stupidity had created.
>
> I honestly don't know how I got loose from the wire.
>
> I woke up laying on the ground hours later. The lawnmower was beside me,
> out of gas. It was later on in the day and I was sunburned.
>
> There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and then
> another long skinny dead spot where the wire had laid while I was on the
> ground still holding on to it. I assume I finally had a seizure and in the
> resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire..
>
> Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things:
>
> 1 - Three of the fillings in my teeth have melted.
>
> 2 - I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek
> (not the left, just the right).
>
> 3 - Poop, pee, and vomit when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as
> you might think.
>
> 4 - My left eye will not open.
>
> 5 - My right eye will not close.
>
> 6 - The lawnmower runs like a sumbitch now. Seriously! I think our little
> session cleared out some carbon fouling or something, because it was
> better than new after that.
>
> 7 - My nuts are still smaller than average yet they are almost a foot
> long.
>
> 8 - I can turn on the TV in the game room by farting while thinking of the
> number 4 (still don't understand this!!!).
>
> That day changed my life. I now have a new found respect for things. I
> appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make
> sure the fence is unplugged before I mow.
>
> The good news, is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can
> clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives
> me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple
> check before I mow.

[retired2]

After reading the story below I know you will feel sorry for this poor husband.

It's funny how some woman just don't get it, that being retired is very stressful. You think finally getting

away from those irritating female coworkers things would get better. How could this woman do this to

her poor husband.

FROM A RETIRED HUSBAND:



ADVICE FROM A RETIRED HUSBAND:

It is important for men to remember that as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.
My name is John. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Lin. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for Lin to get a full-time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work.

Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating, but now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.
Another symptom of aging is complaining. I think. For example she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour.

But, boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and t hen wouldn't hurt her any -- if you know what I mean. I like to think tact is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half-finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Lin. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will c onsider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.

Signed,
John

EDITOR'S NOTE:
John died suddenly on February 7 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Calloway extra-long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing, and a sledge hammer laying nearby. His wife, Lin, was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 10 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that John, somehow without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club.

The Old Geezer

[retired2]

A woman walks in to a tattoo parlor and tells the artist she would like two tatoos, one of Robert Redford on her left upper thigh, and one of Paul Newman on her right thigh. After hours of work the tatoo artist is finished and holds a mirror in between the womans legs for her to view.
The woman says,'' I dont know if these really look like Paul & Robert, and I ain't payin for this if it isn't right!'' She tells the artist she will go just outside the buisness and ask someone walking down the street if they know who the two men are on her thighs, if they answer correctly she would pay the artist.
She soon sees a man walking down the street, so she pulls up her skirt and asks him, '' Can you tell me who the man on my right thigh and the man on my left thigh are?''
The man replies, '' I dunno, but the one in the middle looks like Willie Nelson.''

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