Those were the Good Years.
"How far do you think I can kick this bucket?"
I’ll never forget it. A great mussel memory.
They didn’t pay their electric bills either.
...happy days!
He was a master of the duck shun.
To this day, venison is deer to me.
We have the toot in common.
Budapest
But the role is beginning to grow on me
First off, not many people were buying tires, as they were driving less. Then the warehouse got robbed. To add insult to injury, the place caught on fire. For them it really hasn’t been a Goodyear.
The people always seem to be cooler
It was fun serfing the waves!
It had me fondly thinking back to the time years ago when my friend Mitchell and I toured four of the five Great Lakes one summer.
I wonder if I’ll ever see Mitch again?
Call that some NOStalgia
Well, one is an orphan and the other is an ore fan.
Mostly beef, chicken, and vegetable.
One day I hope to be a bouillonaire.
My dad had a real goofy and dadly sense of humor. He past a way about 4 years ago but all the jokes here remind me of the ones he used to make. I'm smiling so hard as I go through these.
One of my favorites was the mole joke: One day a house near a molehill was making pancakes. Daddy mole comes up, sniffs, and says,"I smell pancakes." Mamma mole pops up next to him, sniffs, and says I smell pancakes too!" Baby mole hears his parents but can't get past their rear ends. So he says,"All I smell is molasses!"
7 year old me was in tears every time!
I couldn't be with someone who was anti-semantic.
It was just two cell mates who felon love
I told her, "Me neither. I prefer adventils."
I asked if it was ba-a-a-ad.
My wife insisted I grow a goatee to which I reluctantly agreed. She asked me how I felt about it today
Her: So you getting used to your new look yet?
Me: Well it's obviously grown on me
Laugh I thought I'd die,
Die, they'd bury me.
Bury me, there's worms,
Worms, they tickle.
Laugh, I thought I'd die.
Moonshine.
Dad: You'd think it would be the arrrrm, but he's rather fond of the booty!
My father is fond of jokes and pranks (even though I only pretend to laugh .-.) but there's this story that I always would genuinely laugh at whenever it is brought up. So here it goes...
We've always gone to Church every Sunday when we were kids and on one of those Sundays, my father decided to make my mother laugh by shaving only HALF of his beard. So while the other side has hair, the other is shaved. He casually walked up to my mother and asked if he looked good in his "new fashion style." My mother laughed so hard she couldn't breathe.
When that was over, we got ourselves ready and went to Church. While praying, there was a bunch of people looking at my father. He noticed that as soon as he looked at those people, they'd cover their face, bow their heads and walk away. He felt weird. So he got into this 'thinking position' where he had his hands to play with his beard. And that's when he realized...HE FORGOT TO SHAVE THE OTHER HALF AT HOME AND NO ONE NOTICED UNTIL WE GOT THERE. HAHAHHAHAHA He was so embarassed, he covered his whole face until mass was over.
That's all folks. Thank you for coming to my dad talks .
But I’m very fond of Minnesota.
Because I'm quite fond of these: ""
Dig a hole and surround it with peas; When he goes to take a pea, you kick him in the hole!
My dad has been telling that one for at least 15 years.
2: an inside and an outside.
He was also fond of:
What looks like half a butterfly?
The other half.
The contractor was adamant that whatever was in the box would not go in the building at any cost. The plumber insisted he was just trying to do his job and that it was imperative that the box go into the master bathroom. The contractor turned him away despite warnings that there would be consequences. Upon hearing this, the owner of the building got angry and hired a new contractor. The new contractor also wouldn't allow the contents of the large box into the building. He was also fired and a new contractor hired. This contractor was a fun person, giving the workers breaks and buying them lunch. Out of fondness, the workers warned him that when plumber comes, he should allow the box to go into the building. So the contractor asked how important the contents of the box were and the workers replied, "Two people have been fired for not listening to the plumber, just let that sink in"
When my brother and I were little, we put out milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeers on Christmas eve, and woke up on Christmas morning to find them mostly eaten. We were delighted at proof of our nighttime visitors.
The next year our dad told us he had gotten an inside tip from the north pole: that Santa actually liked ramen and beer, not milk and cookies (as other, less well informed, dads and kids had always thought).
For years, we dutifully cooked ramen, put it on a table by the fireplace with a cold beer on the side, and woke up to the ramen and beer having been consumed in the night.
I knew my dad wasn't fond of milk or cookies, but it wasn't until later that we connected the dots and found out the deal about Santa. My dad was the one who ate the Santa food once we went to bed, and he had secretly convinced us to prepare his ideal midnight snack for as long as we believed in Santa.
Those were the Good Years.
Those were the Good Years.
Those were the Good Years.
Those were the Good Years.
Those were the Good Years.
Those were the Good Years.
