She wants to be a Singer-songwriter, or sew it seams.
Times are rough.
They will be called Mainennites.
If one goes off it could spell disaster.
One day, I hope to be a bouillonaire.
Itβs nice to see a politician make good on a concrete policy proposal.
Itβs now classified as an in-continent
"A Milkdud"
I say they should cut me some slack.
"I'm measuring your patience!"
So it can lift me up and make my day better.
I tried to OC.
I've begun laundering money.
The year is 1541 and the French have just begun colonization in North America. Young Jean-Luc is in his newly crafted home when suddenly his friend Jean-Pierre bursts through his front door. 'Jean Luc!' he exclaims. 'You weel nevar believe! I 'ave 'eard word of a bacon tree!'. Jean-Luc looks confused and scoffs 'Imposseeble! You cannot grow BaycON on a tree!'. 'Come! And I weel show you ze bacon tree!'. So Jean-Luc & Jean-Pierre set off down the river, with Jean-pierre providing direction to the enigmatic 'bacon tree'. Finally, they pulled over onto a small beach that lead to a large forest. 'Stay 'ere and watch ze canoe, and I weel bring ze bacon back from ze bacon tree!' said John-Pierre. Hours go by and John-Pierre hasn't returned. As night falls, and Jean-Luc is about to enter the forest to look for his friend, he hears a rustling in the nearby brush, to which Jean-Pierre stumbles out, bloody and with arrows through his legs and arms. 'Jean-Pierre! What 'appened!!' exclaimed Jean-luc. 'Turns out it was not a bacOn tree.....it was an 'AMBUSH!!!'
The conversation was prety dry, so the grape begun raisin some questions
"Where do you see this relationship going?" he asked
"Look, i may not have my perents consent, but i think we are a nice pear, so don't think i can't-elope"
Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.
To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.
I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.
Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.
You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.
The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.
The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.
Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.
Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.
But so far, I've quit cold turkey.
So this group of Irish monks needs to make payments on their belfry, and they've begun to run out of money, so after racking their brains for a few nights, and trying everything they could to get some cash together, they decide to sell flowers to make money. For weeks they sell flowers, and it's going well. Too well in fact, they've begun to run the local florist, Patty O'Flannigan out of town. Well, a bit cheesed at the monks jumping in on his territory, he decides to confront them. He asks them to step off, politely, but they simply respond that, "That's no way to talk to men of God!", and throw him out of their monastery. For weeks this goes on, the monks selling flowers, and the florist getting more and more desperate to make them stop. Finally, he goes to Hugh Mactaggart, the biggest, baddest man in town -- he could get anyone to leave town -- so Patty decides he's the best way to get rid of the monks, gives him the rest of the money, and retires to bed, wary of the results. In the morning, a knock on his door reveals Mactaggart, offering a firm handshake and saying, "They shant be botherin' ya again Patty." The moral of the story is, Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.
My wife and I have been watching The Walking Dead lately and while grocery shopping the other night, she said :
"Sometimes I make mental lists in my head on what I would need if there was ever an apocalypse. Is that weird?"
I replied with, "not at all. I have some too. They're my apocalists"
I thought the apocalypse had begun after the way she rolled her eyes at that one.
We had begun a section on 'change management', and to prove his point, the facilitator challenged us to try to name one thing that does not involve change.
I proudly shouted out "A CREDIT CARD!"
He looks at me and asks, "A... credit card?"
I reply, "Yes. There is no change when paying with a credit card..."
My wife just took a pregnancy test that came up positive. After the initial shock she turns to me and says " well, happy Sunday."
Without missing a beat I say "or perhaps daughter day."
It has begun
Him: My test results came in. The tumors in my lungs and back haven't spread and have begun shrinking thanks to the treatment.
Me: That's wonderful!!!
Him: They're still there but at least they haven't increased by one and become tremors.
Me: Hm? I don't ge......oh goddammit.
My dad everyone. Even when battling cancer, there's still time to make a joke.
The missus asked me to grate some cheese for dinner tonight, I said to my son "you can do it, I'm sure you will have a grate time" The SO said "well that was abit cheesy, maybe you should be more mature and get grating"
I feel inferior now and have begun grating cheese :(
Of course as children do, my brother touched the glass of the fireplace and burnt his hand.
When questioned why he wasn't watching my brother my father responded:
"I was watching. First he lifted his hand. Then he placed it on the glass. Then he begun to cry. I saw it all"
There once was a Great Czar in Russia called Rudolph the Red. One day, while looking out the window, he turned to his wife and said,
"Look, my dear, it has begun to rain!
His wife quickly replied, "It's much too cold for rain, it must be snow!"
He shook his head and said, "My dear, I'm the great Czar Rudolph the Red, and Rudolph the Red knows rain dear!"
