I laugh every time some old fart is cruising through a store farting on every third step, but is either too deaf to realized everyone can hear them, or just too old to care.
Dammit, you promised you'd never bring that up again!!!!
You can roll a turd in peanuts, dip it in chocolate, and it still ain't no damn Baby Ruth.
Once upon a time....I farted SBD one on a long drive. The Lab was laying on the seat next to me, asleep, with his head on my thigh.
His eyes blinked open. Wide.
He sat up and tested the air.
He turned around and sniffed his butt.
He stuck his head between my thighs and inhaled.
He gave me a "You rotten bastid" look, turned around and buried his nose against the door frame.
I laughed for 50 miles, and every time I've thought of it in the 40 years since....
the ex let one rip one night....bout 15 seconds later The Weasel came out for air giving the ex the evil eye the whole time she laid on top the covers letting it all air out.....pretty phuggin impressive to get that dog to give up her warm bed on a cold night......
A serious student of the "Armchair Safari" always looking for Africa/Asia hunting books
you know i got more chit over the years referring to that dog as The Weasel.....most seemed to think it was a negative name....the ex just took forever coming up with a name and i figured short legs, long body, its a weasel.....been around ferrets and such quite a bit and didnt consider the name a negative.....really miss that dog, may have been the ex's but she attached herself to me and my hunting dog.....
A serious student of the "Armchair Safari" always looking for Africa/Asia hunting books
I hear you, rattler. Once we are out of Kotzebue...
The Weasel's "official" name was DJ.. Stood for Dufous Junior- for the Lab we had at the time, whose official name was Grizzly. Dumb name, but we got him 3rd hand at two years old. For some odd reason.
Took me two years to figure out he was conning us.... he was that good, or I was that bad, even after 30 years of Labs. I'd never had a used dog before - and the two previous schmucks had inadvertently trained him well...
What turned him around was coming out of Barrow after two years and parking him in a Fairbanks kennel for 10 days while we went to Cabo.
Being shunned by your pack will do that..... Damn, he minded good after that! Like a switch had been thrown.
Not, of course, Labs being Labs, without the occasional back-sliding...
But he helped train the Weasel into pack mode ( I knew they were going to be OK when, after weeks of shunning by the Lab, I came into the room to find him laying on his side, mouth open, with the puppy DJ chewing on his canine....). DJ helped train Tripper Lab in turn even if he did spend a lot of Trip's puppy months under the couch...
An 11 pound Weasel vs a 30 lb. Lab? No contest when it came to serious.
At the new shooting indoor range the fans suck the air from behind the line towards the targets. And with people wearing hearing protectors you can rip off some impressive loud smelly farts with impunity.
Jim
"Whensoever the General Government assumes undelegated powers, its acts are unauthoritative, void, and of no force." --Thomas Jefferson
At the new shooting indoor range the fans suck the air from behind the line towards the targets. And with people wearing hearing protectors you can rip off some impressive loud smelly farts with impunity.
Jim
Seen a bowel monkey released in high winds of the Appalachians that stunned small cattle.
Something had my stomach tore up fierce awhile back, and, after we were all in bed, I ripped off a noseburner. My wiener dog went into a seizure, and my woman took off out of bed at a dead run... I felt bad for one, and laughed at the other........
While it's true that all liberals are crazy people, not all crazy people are liberals.
I drove the wife out of bed twice. The last time was a home wrecker sized polish and sauerkraut dog at the county fair. Heavy on the kraut. A word of advice to newlyweds. Don't blame her cooking, even in jest.
Last edited by smarquez; 03/19/15.
Fight fire, save lives, laugh in the face of danger.
Worst case I ever had was after a bout of food poisoning. I'm surprised that the professor didn't cancel class that day as everyone was gagging.
As far as being a nasty bastid and cutting loose on co-workers, I used to work making disks for computer hard drives, and when we'd have to repair or qual a machine I'd suit up for the clean room and the techs would be outside working on the machine.
That thing with a clean room is it has linear air flow, supply from the sealing, discharge from the floor. But if you're on the outside wall, the air discharging from the clean room is being supplied from the floor, running up to the sealing.
Needless to say if you rip one in the clean room, your tech on the other side of the wall is not going to be a happy camper
I ripped off an SBD in my buddy's truck, just as he was dropping me off from our weekly trapshoot night. It stunk, badly. Very badly. Paint-peeling bad.
Three days later, he picked up his girlfriend, and she asked "Who chit in your truck".
To this day, 17 years later, he still is pissed about it.
We haven't been to a Taco Bell since, either, at least when he's driving. Thank God.
You can roll a turd in peanuts, dip it in chocolate, and it still ain't no damn Baby Ruth.
I was bird hunting with a buddy many years ago in Eastern Washington. We were driving across this huge ranch he had secured permission on and just as we passed a small asparagus field, a pheasant ran across the road into the asparagus. I stopped and my buddy jumped out and went to chase the bird to the end of the field in hopes of a shot.
While I waited I felt one brewing. My buddy made it to the end of the row, jumped the pheasant and made the shot. He was about half way back to the truck when I ripped one off. Without a doubt my best effort ever. This one rolled around the cab of that little Datsun pickup in a green cloud and quickly displaced every molecule of breathable air.
My buddy returned, unaware of what he was about to encounter. He dropped the pheasant in the bed of the truck and unloaded his gun. He pulled the door open just as the cloud had gathered it's full strength and started to poke his head in the cab. It was almost as if he hit a wall. He reeled back like he'd taken a left hook to the jaw and spun around, grabbed the bed rail of the truck to support himself and began puking. Of course this guy would gag a little when he dressed a game bird but this had bird gut beat by a hefty margin. He had many choice words and threats for me I'm sure but I couldn't hear them, I was laughing too hard.
Chronographs, bore scopes and pattern boards have broke a lot of hearts.