The Mindless Thread
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- #283
I walks into the bar and orders a shot of whisky, gulps it down and peeks into the shirt pocket.
Orders another shot of whisky, gulps it down and peeks into the shirt pocket once more.
Sure, orders a third shot and does the same thing. After the sixth shot,
I tip the bartender, leave the stool to walk out.
The lovely young Blond new bartender asks, "Excuse me, but I noticed that every time you drank a shot,
you kept looking into your pocket. I was wondering what's in your pocket."
"I have a picture of my wife in my pocket. I keep drinking until she starts to look good."
Orders another shot of whisky, gulps it down and peeks into the shirt pocket once more.
Sure, orders a third shot and does the same thing. After the sixth shot,
I tip the bartender, leave the stool to walk out.
The lovely young Blond new bartender asks, "Excuse me, but I noticed that every time you drank a shot,
you kept looking into your pocket. I was wondering what's in your pocket."
"I have a picture of my wife in my pocket. I keep drinking until she starts to look good."
hondo 50
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- Sep 15, 2024
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oh, hell yes!
- Thread starter
- #291
Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time.
A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly
and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
One evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud:
"Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?" And then, there is silence in
the pickup truck.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's
been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he
doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space,
so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean,
where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage?
Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
Fred's thinking: ..."so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had my pickup
at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for another $150 oil change here."
Martha's thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from
our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some
reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
Fred's thinking: "I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right.
They better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like
a garbage truck, I already paid those incompetent thieves $600.
Martha's thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help
the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.
Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right
next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care
about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
Fred's thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty. I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...
"Fred," Martha says aloud.
"What?" says Fred, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear,
I feel so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Fred.
"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Fred.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.
"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with
one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Fred.
"That way about time," says Martha.
"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about
what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last, she speaks.)
"Thank you, Fred," she says.
"Thank you," says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred
gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun
of the 2007 Fiesta Bowl between Boise State and Oklahoma.
A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the pickup,
but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, then two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours.
In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring
every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions,
but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while fishing one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha's, pauses just before casting, frowns, and says:
"Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"
-----------
And that's the difference between men and women.
---------
__________________
I no longer consider the press as something that decides what issues to cover!
But rather what issues to cover-up
THE DJ. JUST CONFIRMED A STUDY & THE INTERNET IS DEPRESSING.
CHANCES ARE THE SAND'S RUN DOWN NOW :
A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly
and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
One evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud:
"Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?" And then, there is silence in
the pickup truck.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's
been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he
doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space,
so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean,
where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage?
Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
Fred's thinking: ..."so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had my pickup
at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for another $150 oil change here."
Martha's thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from
our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some
reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
Fred's thinking: "I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right.
They better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like
a garbage truck, I already paid those incompetent thieves $600.
Martha's thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help
the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.
Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right
next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care
about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
Fred's thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty. I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...
"Fred," Martha says aloud.
"What?" says Fred, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear,
I feel so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Fred.
"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Fred.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.
"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with
one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Fred.
"That way about time," says Martha.
"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about
what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last, she speaks.)
"Thank you, Fred," she says.
"Thank you," says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred
gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun
of the 2007 Fiesta Bowl between Boise State and Oklahoma.
A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the pickup,
but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, then two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours.
In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring
every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions,
but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while fishing one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha's, pauses just before casting, frowns, and says:
"Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"
-----------
And that's the difference between men and women.
---------
__________________
I no longer consider the press as something that decides what issues to cover!
But rather what issues to cover-up
THE DJ. JUST CONFIRMED A STUDY & THE INTERNET IS DEPRESSING.
CHANCES ARE THE SAND'S RUN DOWN NOW :
- Thread starter
- #294
I'm sort of gimpy but struggle into the Bar anyway. This very hot new young bartender says,
"Hi old-timer, what can I get ya?" So, I say Kentucky Burbon and a Cigar."
Soon the Hottie, a very friendly Bartender delivers me, I sit there swilling my Burbon and Lite up the Stogie.
This sweet young hottie bar tender starts to stare at me. I notice she keeps staring at me.
After a while, she says, "Sweetie, just how old are you?"
------------------------
twenty-three
"Hi old-timer, what can I get ya?" So, I say Kentucky Burbon and a Cigar."
Soon the Hottie, a very friendly Bartender delivers me, I sit there swilling my Burbon and Lite up the Stogie.
This sweet young hottie bar tender starts to stare at me. I notice she keeps staring at me.
After a while, she says, "Sweetie, just how old are you?"
------------------------
twenty-three
- Thread starter
- #296
Now sex has been very embarrassing to me when I went to the city hall to renew the dog's license for sex. I told the clerk I'd like a license for sex he said. "I would like to have one too!". Then I said, "she is a dog!!". He said he didn't care what she looked like. I said, "you don't understand. I had sex since I was 9 years old." He replied, "You must have been quite a strong boy."
When I decided to get married, I told the minister that I would like to have sex at the wedding. He told me to wait until after the wedding was over. I said, "but sex has played a big part in my life and my life revolves around sex." He said he didn't want to hear about my personal life and would not marry us in his church. I told him everybody would like having sex at the wedding. The next day we were married at the justice of peace. My family was barred from the church then on.
When my wife and went on out honeymoon, I took the dog with me. When we checked into the motel, I told the clerk that I wanted a room for me and my wife and a special room for sex. He said every room in the motel is a place for sex. I said, "you don't understand. Sex keeps me awake at night." The clerk said, "me too!"
One day I entered sex in a contest. But before the competition began, sex ran away. Another contestant asked me why I was just looking around. I told him that I was going to have sex in the contest. He said that I should have sold my own tickets. "You don't understand!!" I said. "I hoped to have sex on TV!!". He called me a show off.
When my wife and I separated, we went to court to fight for custody of the dog. I said, "your honour. I had sex before I was married, but sex left me after I was married." The judge said, "me too!!"
Last night, sex ran off again. I spent hours looking all over for her. A cop came over and asked me what I was doing in the alley at 4 o'clock in the morning. I said, "I'm looking for sex." My case comes up next Thursday.
Well now I have been thrown in jail, been divorced and had more damn troubles with that dog than I ever foresaw. Why just the other day when I went for my first session with my psychiatrist, she asked me, "what seems to be the trouble?" I replied, "sex has been my best friend all of my life but now it has left me forever. I couldn't live any longer. So lonely." The doctor said, "look mister you should understand sex isn't a man's best friend. So get yourself a dog."
When I decided to get married, I told the minister that I would like to have sex at the wedding. He told me to wait until after the wedding was over. I said, "but sex has played a big part in my life and my life revolves around sex." He said he didn't want to hear about my personal life and would not marry us in his church. I told him everybody would like having sex at the wedding. The next day we were married at the justice of peace. My family was barred from the church then on.
When my wife and went on out honeymoon, I took the dog with me. When we checked into the motel, I told the clerk that I wanted a room for me and my wife and a special room for sex. He said every room in the motel is a place for sex. I said, "you don't understand. Sex keeps me awake at night." The clerk said, "me too!"
One day I entered sex in a contest. But before the competition began, sex ran away. Another contestant asked me why I was just looking around. I told him that I was going to have sex in the contest. He said that I should have sold my own tickets. "You don't understand!!" I said. "I hoped to have sex on TV!!". He called me a show off.
When my wife and I separated, we went to court to fight for custody of the dog. I said, "your honour. I had sex before I was married, but sex left me after I was married." The judge said, "me too!!"
Last night, sex ran off again. I spent hours looking all over for her. A cop came over and asked me what I was doing in the alley at 4 o'clock in the morning. I said, "I'm looking for sex." My case comes up next Thursday.
Well now I have been thrown in jail, been divorced and had more damn troubles with that dog than I ever foresaw. Why just the other day when I went for my first session with my psychiatrist, she asked me, "what seems to be the trouble?" I replied, "sex has been my best friend all of my life but now it has left me forever. I couldn't live any longer. So lonely." The doctor said, "look mister you should understand sex isn't a man's best friend. So get yourself a dog."
- Thread starter
- #300
I've got a summer job pumping gas in the mid 60's.
An old guy drives in, trips the bell and says fill-er-up.
He gets out of his car with an umbrella, opens it and
Follows me around as I work, holding the umbrella
over my head to keep the sun off me. I awkwardly thank
him and he pays cash & drives away.
A few days later, he comes back for a fill up. Again, he
gets out of his car, I'm checking the oil, tire pressure and gassed
car up, while he stands there with the umbrella open over him,
watching me work. I ask, “So you’re not gonna use that to keep
the sun off me this time?”
“Fuel me once, shade on you. Fuel me twice, shade on me!”
An old guy drives in, trips the bell and says fill-er-up.
He gets out of his car with an umbrella, opens it and
Follows me around as I work, holding the umbrella
over my head to keep the sun off me. I awkwardly thank
him and he pays cash & drives away.
A few days later, he comes back for a fill up. Again, he
gets out of his car, I'm checking the oil, tire pressure and gassed
car up, while he stands there with the umbrella open over him,
watching me work. I ask, “So you’re not gonna use that to keep
the sun off me this time?”
“Fuel me once, shade on you. Fuel me twice, shade on me!”
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