the BBQ season

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Standard Operating Procedures released today Please learn.

We are about to enter the BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity.  When a man volunteers to do the BBQ, the following chain of events is put into motion.   Routine...  (1)   The woman buys the food.  (2)   The woman makes the salad, prepares the                   vegetables, and makes the dessert. (3)    The woman prepares the meat for cooking,                   places it on a tray along with the necessary                   cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to                   to the man who is lounging beside the                   grill, beer in hand.  (4)    The woman remains outside the         compulsory three-meter exclusion zone         where the exuberance of testosterone and         other manly bonding activities can take                    place without the interference of the                    woman.                     Here comes the important part:  (5)   THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE          GRILL.

 
More routine....
(6)       The woman goes inside to organize the
                      plates and cutlery. 
(7)        The woman comes out to tell the man that
          the meat is looking great.  He thanks her
          and asks if she will bring another beer
          while he flips the meat.
 
Important again: 
(     THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE
          GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
 
More routine...
(9)          The woman prepares the plates, salad,
          bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and
          brings them to the table. 
(10)    After eating, the woman clears the table
          and washes the dishes.
 
And most important of all: 
(11)  Everyone  PRAISES  the  MAN and
          THANKS HIM  for his cooking efforts.
(12)  The man asks the woman how she
          enjoyed 'her night off,' and, upon seeing
          her annoyed reaction, concludes that
          there's just no pleasing some women.

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THIS IS AN ACTUAL CUSTOMER REVIEW FROM A MAN ON AMAZON.CO.UK AFTER USING VEET HAIR REMOVAL CREAM FOR MEN. I ACTUALLY HAD TEARS ROLLING DOWN MY FACE WHILE READING IT!!!!!!!!!!!! SOOOO FUNNY!!!:

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn’t have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, toe the lid off and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned. Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and an tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering “ooooohhh that feels good” Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…so to sum it up, VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect ~

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         Grandma's boyfriend
 
         A 5-year-old boy went to visit his grandmother one day.
 
         Playing with his toys in her bedroom while grandma was dusting, he looked up and said,
 
         'Grandma, how come you don't have a boyfriend now that Grandpa went to heaven?'
 
         Grandma replied, 'Honey, my TV is my boyfriend.
 
         I can sit in my bedroom and watch it all day long.
 
         The religious programs make me feel good and the comedies make me laugh
 
         ... I'm happy with my TV as my boyfriend.'
 
         Grandma turned on the TV, and the reception was terrible.
 
         She started
         adjusting the knobs, trying to get the picture in focus.
 
         Frustrated, she started hitting the backside of the TV hoping to fix the problem.
 
 
         The little boy heard the doorbell ring, so he hurried to open the door and there stood Grandma's minister.
 
         The minister said, 'Hello son, is your Grandma home?'
 
         The little boy replied, 'Yeah, she's in the bedroom bangin' her boyfriend.'
 
         The minister fainted.
 
         Now, that's funny... I don't care WHO you are!!!

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Best definition

There's an annual contest at the Griffiths University, Australia, calling for the most appropriate definition of  a contemporary term 



This year's term was 'political correctness'.



 



The winning student wrote:
'Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority,
 and rapidly promoted by mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition
 that it is entirely possible to pick up a piece of shit by the clean end

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How true is this. You just gotta love a man who tells the truth

During a lady's medical examination, the doctor says:-
 
"Your heart, lungs, pulse and blood pressure are all fine.
 
Now let me see the bit that gets you ladies into all kinds of trouble."
 
The lady starts taking off her underwear but is interrupted by the doctor.            
 
"No! No! Don't remove your clothes... Just stick out your tongue!"

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Donations for the Senate
A driver was stuck in a traffic jam on the highway outside Ottawa.  Nothing was moving.  Suddenly, a man knocks on the window.

The driver rolls down the window and asks, "What's going on?"

"Terrorists have kidnapped the entire Senate, and they're asking for a $100 million dollar ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them all in gasoline and set them on fire.  We are going from car to car, collecting donations."   

"How much is everyone giving, on an average?" the driver asks.
 
The man replies, "Roughly a litre."

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