Because it's a great fix-a-tiff.
At least the both have something "in" common.
...now I'm a bee lever.
It was the director's cut.
Because it's the weekend.
Give them a vice
It was a gripping watch.
It took me a few days, but I've managed to come to grips with it.
They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.
As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.
They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.
Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?
They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.
They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.
But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.
The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.
And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!
Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?
In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and... keep reading on reddit ➡
Eyes wide, he whispered, "Skeletons!"
For better grip on the broomstick
But then it hit them why he was holding it in a overhand grip.
It's my vice.
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 ➡
but larger babies are delivered by a crane
I told my wife "That cat would have way more grip on roof shingles and I expect more I realism from talking cartoon cows. This is "UDDERLY" ridiculous."
She may have buried her head and avoided eye contact for a bit. I was proud.
In my opinion we should beat the shit out of constipated people because:
Laxatives are an unhealthy way of dealing with feces. On the other hand, beating the shit out of someone is a good way to practice sports activities like, running, grip strength, punching techniques etc.
Other methods of dealing with feces take alot of money. Laxatives aren't cheap in our flawed healthcare system! On the other hand, there are people that are willing to pay you to beat the shit out of you. By using this method you can become richer and deal with your shitty problems.
Constipation requires being in the bathroom for a long time. This can be very lonely for the people involved. However, beating the shit out of others can be done in any place. Your home, the local park, or even the shady street corner! Not only that it's a very social activity, requiring a minimum of at least 2 people, but usually done in groups of 2-5 people.
Although some people might say, that beating the shit out of each other is violent, most of them have never been to a public toilet and hence are unable to realize how much more painful and violent the alternative is.
In summery, beating the shit out of people is a good, legitimate, and affordable alternative to laxatives and is a better, more progressive way, to deal with constipation.
It’s really getting out of hand.
....opened doors to a lot of opportunities.
Whenever he used to walk, his claws used to make a ta-ta-ta-ta sound.
His other crab people used to be away from him. Due to this sound.
Once he was captured by a predator and was bumped on a rock and got loose from the predators grip and ran away.
After the bump his ta-ta-ta-ta sound went away automatically.
Since that incident, he got friends and a new name- Santa Claus.
It truly was a gripping story.
It was gripping.
So I'm in this DnD party. There are six of us including the DM. Chris is the DM, and the other major player here is Shawn: what you need to know about him is that his character has three arms, plus a bionic one.
Chris: after Shawn has been attacked by a flying enemy and thrown off a pier So you're now in the water. What are you going to do?
Shawn: Does this affect my bionic arm?
Chris: No, you waterproofed it last session, remember?
Shawn: Oh, right. That's handy.
Most of this is my own work, if not, it was inspired by something clever!
I hope this will tickle your funnybone and produce a jolly good set of laughs.
A guy didn't register that the wet paint signs about the handrail was still drying, his hand immediately stuck to the rail. My only response to him was, well you see there, it's an application problem, not hardware.
A researcher's obsession with mixing sand, stones, lime and water has started to yield concrete results.
Eyeglass makers who profit well can frame their success.
Joe: I gave the backyard squirrels Christmas presents!
Abby: Are you nuts?
Joe: No, that's what I gave them...
What did the supervisor at the tortilla factory say at the end of a long workday?
That's a wrap!
Television is a medium because anything well done is rare. (Insp)
People who don't answer the phone sometimes miss their calling in life.
His words were heavy, but his friends didn't get the gravity of the situation.
Time flies like crazy!
Fruit flies like apples!
Never let logic and reasoning get in the way of telling a good story. (Sounds like something that would be said on TopGear/Grand Tour)
There are a few words that will open many doors for you in life - Push and Pull (Insp)
Somehow people really don't like it when I throw lamps at them to encourage them to lighten up.
Same goes for tossing handles for when they need to get a grip or soap for cleaning up their act.
When you're on the ballot for the water council and they have a runoff election.
Ghosts speak latin, it's a dead language (Insp)
If you work at a grocery, send the interns down to the meat market to get some red herrings.
There was a river in Egypt that no one believed existed, it was known locally as De-Nile.
Bad luck Brian - Invests in uranium, profits decay.
There was an explosion at the film manufacturing company, reporters say the story is still developing.
Why do bagpipers walk around?
To get away from the noise (Insp)
Most people have a six-figure income, just the decimal point is in the wrong place.
It has recently been discovered that scientific research causes cancer in rats.
In Russia, the term road has had a controversial meaning for a very long time.
In Canada/Russia, you put things in the fridge to warm them up.
Did you know that the creator of Barbie was named Barbara Dahl?
Doc: There's something not q... keep reading on reddit ➡
We were on the road, and she was complaining about having sore hands.
Me: Do you think your hands are sore because all you've done today is drive us all places?
Wife: Yeah - too much time gripping this steering wheel.
Me: Oh, that's carpool tunnel syndrome.
Last summer, my girlfriend and I went camping. One of the days, we were having lunch by a river (a kind of a picnic sort of thing). Now, I talk a lot when I eat, so she finished eating waaaaay before I did. Once she was finished, she took to the water to cool off while I continued munching away.
Now, I guess she must have slipped or something, because all of a sudden I heard a cry and she was just gone. Washed away. I saw her head bob above the surface probably 20 yards downstream, and moving fast towards some rapids (probably 100-150 yards away). So I'm pretty panicked at this point, but she manages to grab onto a low-hanging branch (just like in a movie or something). She's coughing and sputtering and hollering for help, trying to keep a grip on the branch.
So, I set down my avocado I'd been snacking on and walked out into the water. "hurry! I can't hold on much longer," she's yelling. I kept walking towards her, but the bottom of the river was so muddy that it was probably pretty slow. She started to get angry with me "SWIM over here! Why are you walking? Please hurry!" She yelled, with great urgency. All in all, it took me probably 8 minutes to cover the 80 yards or so to get to her. After I rescued her, she was super mad for some reason. She was all "I almost died, why were you going so slow? Who does that? What's wrong with you?"
"Well," I said. "Good things are worth wading for."
Because they need to grip the broom!
It was truly gripping...
A Call to Arms A Plead to the Limbless
The Armless are a stump among society and could easily achieve more. It’s bothersome that somebody with great potential could allow themselves to lose grip of what they aspire for. The radius of support and development that surrounds these people is astounding. Yet they bite the hand that feeds and throw away opportunities. With each passing day they are crippled by the errors in their ways. Not only are they not properly handling the situation, they are doing a disservice to society. Most will say to refrain from pointing fingers, but it is pertinent that we show them their faults.
All aside we should most certainly not try to elbow my way into their lives. However, if they were to branch off into their own progressive groups it would be most beneficial. And severance is a good thing between them and the public. This doesn't mean a complete amputation of them from society. Perhaps selective assistance will help these people find a well fitted sleeve within their communities. This process is difficult and lending a helping hand can make the difference. On the other hand, we have those who don’t try to succeed. Their negligence is worthy of more than a mere slap on the wrist. When somebody refuses to apply themselves, they are holding back progress. By giving themselves mental limitation they are creating a prosthetic disability they must abide by. The majority of working to achieve goals is believing you can reach out and grab them. But, somebody who gives up is cutting themselves short of success Seeing somebody give up is the furthest thing from being humerus. Urging these people is a necessity, otherwise they will never try their hardest, encourage them to use some elbow grease and put forth full effort. Any small contribution is better than being a detriment, community service, obtaining greater education, enlisting in the armed forces, these all benefit society. Drastic changes of this scale are sure to cause discontent, grab a tissue if need be, but never give up. For all those that are currently wasting away without contribution, it's time to limb’er up and take charge.
Like, c'mon, get a grip