I wanted something more stable
But there are concerns he won’t be able to build a cabinet
Because he was such a Dick.
It was pretty bad at first, but by the end I liked it.
She wants to quit while she's a head.
His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.
The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.
One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!
Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?
But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi
... keep reading on reddit ➡The job was boring.
They'd traded jokes, played pop music, and generally made people's lives a touch brighter as they trundled to work.
Now, though, there was silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax message from the Department of Defense. As licensed broadcasters they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them the nukes were flying and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. What, though, was the point of that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?
Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio door the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.
Bert, always the consummate professional, turned away from the window as the first explosion split the distant horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt, and brushed his hair back. He would meet his fiery death with dignity.
He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"
Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He looked into Bert's face and saw the closeness they shared, the strength of their relationship, forged over the years. He took a deep breath and spoke quietly:
"With your eyes, Bert."
It was expected though, It's the end of May after all.
I left without making a scene.
Then you’re at a loss for words.
I guess you could say he fell off the wagen.
And I remember he used to be stationed in exotic places all over the world. Once he came back home with a very exotic looking bird. I asked him what kind of a bird it was and he told me it’s a rare almost extinct species called a Foux (pronounced Foo). This foux was the apple of his eye and he would take care of the bird as if it was his own child. Sometime during this period the Foux began developing a real bad case of constipation and my father was really worried about it. He tried all kinds of medicines to make the Foux pass it’s bowels, but nothing was working. One day, during this period, I woke up to a huge argument taking place between my parents. My mom was accusing him of cheating on her during one of his tours, she had found some pictures of him and another woman and he was denying it vehemently. I realized then that my father had been quite the philanderer and this wasn’t the first time he had been caught. My mom was trying to get him to just admit to his indiscretion.
“Why don’t you just admit it Harry”, she said;
but he stuck to his denial,
“You think I could ever do something like this Sarah”, he said.
Right then amidst all this ruckus, the Foux began to take a dump, in the middle of the living room.
My mom looked at the bird, then looked back at my dad and with a sense of resignation she just said “Well if the Foux shits...”
FDR just rolled in there.
I don’t want to be Obamaself.
They'd have to resign.
It tinders its resignation.
I'm home for the holidays so I was lying down in my room when suddenly my brother and father burst in! My brother is holding a tape measure.
They say "Hey, check out this new physics we've invented!" while my brother fiddles with the tape measure.
I looked up and with a mixture of horror and resignation I asked "What?"
"It's the principle of BELLYTIVITY!" while stretching the tape measure between their belly buttons.
Cackling they both ran out of the room.
I'm stuck here for five more weeks. I don't think I'm gonna make it.
Context: I just put in my resignation notice at the school I work at, and word traveled amongst students fairly rapidly.
Student walks into room: "Say it ain't so, Mr. so-and-so" Me: " Oh man, I freaking love Weezer!" Confused looks were soon followed by groans.
Bert and Ernie worked together as daytime radio hosts for over twenty years. They'd traded jokes, played pop music and generally made peoples lives a touch brighter as they trundled to their workplace.
Now though, there was a silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax from civil defense. As licensed broadcasters, they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them that several nuclear missile launches had occured, and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. But what was the point in that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?
Ernie looked up at Bert. Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune, while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio coor, the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.
Bert. always the consummate professional, turned away as the first explosion split the horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt and brushed his hair back. He would meat his fiery death with dignity.
He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"
Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He hugged his companion, released him and studied Bert's face. He saw the closeness they shared, all the long years tying them together, and the strength of their relationship. He took a deep breath, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He spoke in a quiet, broken tone:
"With your eyes, Bert."
