I love it. It’s my prise possession.
I picked up my daughter after being outside in the cold and she started squirming from the touch of my ice cold hands. My wife asked for her back and I said "not unless you pry her from my cold dad hands"
A man is riding his horse through the desert, and, well, he starts to get thirsty. He sees a small town off in the distance, so he sets off in that direction to get some water for his horse and some whiskey for hisself.
Well, as he gets into that little town he starts to notice something peculiar. Not a soul is out. Sun's setting, but still plenty of light. Water in the horse troughs tells him it ain't a ghost town, but folks ain't comin' out for some reason.
Now, as soon as he turns onto the town's main street, he sees a soberin' sight; the sheriff, on a ladder, hammering the last nail into a brand new gallows. He sidles his horse on up to the sheriff and says, "Pardon me sheriff. I don't mean to pry, but pray tell, who're them gallows fer?"
The sheriff looks around, surprised to see someone out. He steps down, takes off his hat and scratches the back of his head thoughtfully, before replying, "Well, I reckon you must be a stranger in these parts. I reckon then that you ain't never heard of Brown Paper Bart. Anyway, we're lynchin' him come sunrise."
"Brown Paper Bart? I reckon not, sheriff. That's a mighty peculiar name, pray tell, whaddaya call him Brown Paper Bart fer?"
"Wayill, I reckon we call him Brown Paper Bart on account 'a the fact that everything he wears is made a' brown paper. His hat's made a' brown paper, his boots is made a' brown paper. His chaps is made a' brown paper, his neckerchief's made a brown paper. Heck dang shoot, even his lunch bag is made a' brown paper!"
The man looks at the sheriff a moment, perplexed, before replying, "Well, sheriff, I reckon that's a mighty peculiar thing for a man to do, but that don't explain these brand new gallows. Pray tell, what're you lynchin' Brown Paper Bart fer?"
[Insert a dad-length pause here.]
"...Rustlin'."
So my wife and I went to Great Floors looking for tile and generally getting an idea of what we want to finish our basement bathroom and family room with.
The saleswoman points us to this vinyl plank stuff I've never seen before that you just lay down with no glue or anything that is somehow completely waterproof and lifetime guaranteed and all that jazz. She shows us how you need to use a plunger to pry them back up once they are all tight together.
Me. "Wow, I never would have thought this could work.... I'm floored."
In the ensuing groan fest the saleswoman claims to have never heard that one before, I jested that she sounded knowledgeable for someone who obviously hasn't been working in the business very long.
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.
