2 posts tagged “joke”

Email sent to me by my brother. It did not happen to him. I've read it before but I just thought it was funny and I'd share the funny.

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Toni. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser.

The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety ... WAY TOO COOL!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two Triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Awesome!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two Triple-A batteries, right?  There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must  admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect her self against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy Triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"  What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it master," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ol' thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION@!@$$!%!%

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!"

NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one  note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative.

SON-OF-A-B--CH - that hurt like hell! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left) sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.

I'm still looking for my testicles and offering a significant reward for their safe return.

I regret to inform you that I will not be making you the Snickerdoodle cookies you've been bugging me to make you for years. See the recipe calls for shortening, I do not have shortening and if I bought shortening I would never use it again and it would go to waste. See I'm trying to ... uh... save the earth... yeah... the earth. I'm a tree hugger see.... yeah, that's the ticket. I'm sure you can understand this since I know that you too are a tree hugger but you have yet to admit to your hugging. Besides you know I'm trying to lose weight not be fat anymore... you believe that, right?

So yeah... I'm not doing it and you can't make me! Besides you'll be lucky if you get a ^!@$^&% Christmas card and please don't even mention the children's pictures. You know how bad I am at that. You are better off stealing them from flickr. You know they offer printing?  You can't expect me to do that too! Anyway this is just my attempt to give you plenty of notice that there will be no Snickerdoodles... repeat no doodles.

Love your very bestest friend ever,
Mrs Groovy

P.S. I hope you see this as my lame attempt at humor. I thought I was hella funny... Mr UnGroovy didn't think it was all that. Love ya girl!

P.S.S. Dude... I marked this entry for family and you are the only one that can see it. :o) Aren't I just a sneaky bitch?

P.P.S.S. forget the doodles! :o)~