A minor inconvenience
"A dab joke"
As soon as I got him home he made a bolt for the backdoor
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit ➡Halfway through the show, the music stops and Bono stands middle stage clapping his hands every few seconds. "Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies" Without missing a beat, from somewhere in the front of the crowd a man bellows out in a thick Irish accent: "Well stop fucking doing it ya evil bastard!"
Context: My brother made a forge this summer and mom kept the slag from his first firing. She's using it in a x-mas ornament present for him and we can't think of anything witty to write on it. If anyone can think of a good one, we'd love to hear it!
They are bellow the C level.
"Honey, pass me another can of beer!", the beekeeper bellowed.
His wife went to check the fridge for beer but alas, there was none left.
"Dear, our supplies have run dry!"
The beekeeper then replied, "Sweetie, please pass me the honey can."
My dad told me this spooky Halloween story when I was young, I remembered it today and thought I would share it:
On one spooky Halloween night, a man decided to travel to the graveyard all by himself, armed with only a flashlight, and a thirst for adventure. He scoured the graveyard in search of ghosts, but after a long time searching, was disappointed that he couldn’t find one.
Just when he was beginning to get disheartened, he heard this awful sound from behind! The sound was deep, scratchy, and bellowing. It was the distinct sound of a coffin! The man was terrified. Naturally, he took off running! But No matter how far or fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the coffin. Everywhere he went, the coffin roared, deep, scratchy, and bellowing.
Just when he could run no more, he found himself trapped. The coffin closed in on him, getting louder and louder as it approached.
So what did he do?
He did what any man would do in this situation! He pulled out his Vick’s 44d cough syrup and stopped that awful coffin!
After I let one rip with moderate force, my dad responded by bellowing out (in a crowded restaurant) "SPEAK ON SWEET LIPS THAT NEVER TOLD A LIE!". I turned a lovely shade of puce, and made every effort to show that I had never seen this strange man before.
The dad jumped up from his seat when we landed and proceeded to grab our luggage from the cabin. He turned to his family (they were seated behind him) and told 'm: 'wow, you guys arrived already?'
The plane went silent except for bellowing laughter from the dad in question and me.
"I was thinking about trying out a geography minor."
"Oh really? What makes you want to head in that direction." - Pun one she doesn't acknowledge
"I don't know I just find it interesting. I think I'd like to try human geography."
"Oh really? My cousin told me he took physical geography and said it rocks." - She pauses and stares at me with an unimpressed face, but reluctantly continues
"No I think people geography would be more my style."
"Ya I can see that. You're much more of a people person." - Her eyes flare as it's obvious shes holding back a bellowing guffaw
"We're done here."
So my boss and I are painting a large room and we tend to talk aimlessly about random stuff when working.
We start talking about what the best way to die would be and the topic comes up about beheading and the different methods throughout the ages.
Me: "Guillotine is kinda cool because your head gets sheared off and your still alive and they hold your head toward the cheering crowds and apparently you can still see them, and even move your eyes.
Him: what about by axe?
me: Beheading by Axe would be painful because not only do you not die right away, but sometimes it takes multiple swings to take your head off. It even gets stuck sometimes.
Him: So the Executioner would be having to pry the Axe back and forth like its stuck in a log?
Me: yeah.
Him: What a pain in the neck.
I heartily bellowed in laughter , guffawed even, and gave him props for it.
