Have you ever told a white lie?

cake

Alice Grayson was to bake a cake for the Baptist Church Ladies’ Group in  Cape Town , but forgot to do it until the last minute.

She remembered it the morning of the bake sale and, after rummaging through cabinets, found an angel food cake mix. She quickly made it while drying her hair, dressing, and helping her son pack up for Scout camp.

When she took the cake from the oven, the center had dropped flat, and the cake was horribly disfigured.  She exclaimed, “Oh dear, there is not time to bake another cake!”  This cake was important to Alice because she did so want to fit in at her new church, and in her new community of friends.  So, being inventive, she looked around the house for something to build up the center of the cake. She found it in the bathroom – a roll of toilet paper. She plunked it in and then covered it with icing. Not only did the finished product look beautiful, it looked perfect.

Before she left the house to drop the cake by the church and head for work, Alice woke her daughter and gave her some money with specific instructions to be at the bake sale the moment it opened at 9:30, and to buy the cake and bring it home.

When the daughter arrived at the sale, she found the attractive, perfect cake had already been sold. Amanda grabbed her cell phone and called her mom.

Alice was horrified!  She was beside herself!  Everyone would know! What would they think? She would be ostracized, talked about, ridiculed! All night, Alice lay awake in bed thinking about people pointing fingers at her and talking about her behind her back.

The next day, Alice promised herself she would try not to think bout the cake. She would attend the fancy luncheon/bridal shower at the home of a fellow church member and try to have a good time. She did not really want to attend because the hostess was a snob who, more than once, had looked down her nose at the fact that Alice was a single parent and not from the founding families of Cape Town.

But having already RSVP’d, she couldn’t think of a believable excuse to stay home.

The meal was elegant, the company was definitely upper crust and to Alice’s horror, the cake in question was presented for dessert!

Alice felt the blood drain from her body when she saw the cake!  She started out of her chair to tell the hostess all about it, but before she could get to her feet, the Mayor’s wife said, “What a beautiful cake!”

Alice, still stunned, sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess (who was a prominent church member) say,

“Thank you, I baked it myself..”

Alice smiled and thought to herself, “God is good.”

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Categories: Guest Posts, Humor, Re-blogs | 5 Comments

Who gave you a license?

Who gave you a license?

woman driver2

I can’t stand other drivers! I couldn’t stand them when I was able to drive, and now that my wife does all the driving, I find that I still can‘t stand them! Don’t people remember anything they learned? I remember my driving lessons well. I also remember a lot of my class mates not doing too well. So I guess it goes without saying that those, now adults, get confused whenever they try to recall things they should have learned. The problem with this is, they’re trying to recall these things while driving!

Take the ‘Two-Second-rule’ for example. Do you remember the two second rule? No, it doesn’t mean forget the driving rules two seconds after you take your driving test! It doesn’t mean two seconds after the light turns green you must be doing sixty miles an hour. Nor does it mean that it’s okay to stop on the freeway on-ramp (if you only stop for two seconds) prior to merging. As you can see the two second rule appears to be a confusing rule for many people.

‘Following distance’ is another term I’ve noticed people having a difficult time understanding. It is not defined as the distance traveled when following someone home from the pub.

Reaction-time is another one of those confusing concepts. For example, some people define it as the time it takes to put down their cell-phone and ‘flip you off’. Others think it’s the time it takes to roll down their window and scream obscenities. Amazingly, some people have become unbelievably astute at performing these three actions, and can do them simultaneously. Still others believe that ‘reaction time’ is the time it takes to recover their dropped cell-phone, which slipped from their hand while trying to put on make-up, drive, eat a breakfast sammie and talk on the phone simultaneously. So, what do they do? They search the floor-board with one hand while steering down the road with the elbow on the other arm, trying not to spill the coffee they are holding. Now can you see why other drivers piss me off?

Another driving element many people (myself included) can’t seem to understand is the signage. Alarmingly, school zones are the same areas where you will commonly see signs that read, ’SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY’! No, it has nothing to do with brain function, nor does it mean that some of these kids can’t even run out of the way! It means…….. aaaaaaagh! What the hell do you care anyway!

Even worse than being confused, some drivers, especially women, lose their minds in shopping mall parking lots . We’ve all seen them creeping along (driving laps around the same lanes of parked cars) circling; looking like vultures waiting for something to die, or we’ve seen them impatiently idling in-place, hell-bent on getting a space close to the door. I submit, if you look closely enough, you will see red furious eyes, and clenched- barred teeth. You’ll also see their white-knuckled death-grip on their steering wheels, and veins popping out of their foreheads, forearms and necks.–

Being able to perform a U-turn, a three-point-turn, as well as being able to parallel park are skills that can certainly come in handy from time to time. Unfortunately, I have come to suspect that many people get confused when they attempt the execution of such maneuvers. A ‘U-turn’ turns into a U-end-up-in-the-ditch turn, a ’three-point-turn’ ends up being a ’three hour display of gear changing ability, and parallel parking looks like someone ran out of petrol (in the middle of the road) and left the car right where it quit!

People who drive like this should have their licenses revoked! Don’t you agree?

 

I hate other drivers!

 

Categories: Guest Posts, Humor, Re-blogs | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Why do men get married

Why do men get married

Sent to me by a friend.

Author wishes to remain anonymous for obvious reasons.

avatar rasta fb

According to a recent survey, German men list tax breaks as their primary reason for getting married. Which leaves the rest of us to ask the obvious question!

“Why don’t we get those tax breaks here in the good old South Africa?”

Anyway, for men in SA it’s usually some combination of relationship-oriented motivations that provides the basis for marriage. And since South African men are [apparently] much more romantic than their German counterparts, our motivations for marriage are solidly rooted in love; why, just look at the typical South African male’s highly-romantic reasons for considering marriage:

1. The house needs cleaning. Sure, he can do it himself, but it’s a pretty big job when you only do it once a year (or so). Plus, the house looks so much more romantic when it’s clean.

2. The fridge needs to be refilled. Yes, he can go grocery shopping, but it’s a real hassle for the standard testosterone-laden, attention-deficient male, to look properly detached standing in line at the grocery store — without a beer or a cigarette in his hand to complete the “look” — and generally forgets what he’s doing there by the time he reaches the till. Even though beer is sold there he would be evicted if he cracked one open. Plus, a full fridge is much more romantic than an empty one.

3. The laundry needs to be done. Okay, he can attempt this himself, but there are two significant problems with men doing laundry. Huge doses of testosterone exclude men from wearing pink underwear and buying new underwear every time it would be exorbitant. Properly coloured underwear was more romantic anyway.

4. The “significant other” is pressing for action on the “marriage” front. Pressured by deadlines” Either we are engaged by —— , or I’m gone.” (Otherwise known

as do or die) Faced with the horrifying prospect of a dirty house, an empty fridge, pink underwear, and having to lift his sagging butt from the couch to “get his own damn beer” during the game, he will usually give in and decide to take the plunge. Plus, getting married is much more romantic than wearing pink underwear. (Also, note that most women will conveniently forget about the “ultimatum” within minutes of the proposal.)

See? None of that unromantic “tax break” reasoning here — just solid love and romance. And the romance doesn’t end there — when it comes time to close the deal, you can bet that the innovative Safrican male will devise something original, like hiding the ring somewhere in the house and leaving a trail of notes directing her to the bounty. And he’ll pick an original day on which to do it, too — like Christmas, or Valentine’s Day, or her birthday. (A thinly-veiled way to “combine gifts,” BTW.)

Of course, the girl will graciously fail to mention the gross lack of originality in the presentation — being preoccupied instead with how she’s going to explain to her new fiancee that “he” wants to replace the very-thoughtful-but-not-very-romantic cubic zirconia with a rock large enough to make the Blue Train fall through the first bridge they cross …

Categories: Guest Posts, Humor, Re-blogs | Tags: , | 1 Comment

Why do women get married in white?

question mark

Why do women get married in white?

Is it the age old virgin in white thing?

So that they match all the other white goods in the kitchen?

Because they have smaller feet than men, so they can stand closer to the kitchen sink?

No! I don’t think so. Men used to be indoctrinated and brain washed into the belief that women need to be barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen and would profess total incompetence with kitchen appliances and babies nappies, feeding the troops and anything vaguely resembling a broom or cleaning aid. But the girls have out thought us!

Don’t let them fool you guys. All the modern things were designed by women. It’s all a huge conspiracy to get us to prove our undying love by taking away the last bastion of male dominance. The rolled eyes, sighs, tantrums and tears are shared with equal ease in this modern era.

However, with newer, smarter and more technologically advanced appliances on the market they are trying their damndest to prove that it’s no longer seen as a wimpy thing for a man to understand the workings of a kitchen. “Remember I said understand not do!” They are cunningly making these appliances so technologically complicated that they can plead incompetence and allow your male ego to be coerced into doing it. “It’s all a ploy I tell you”. Tables are turning guys wake up!

You don’t need smaller feet to stand at the sink when you have a high tech dishwasher that you can programme using its on-board computer to wash and dry the dishes at the optimum energy saving time. Breaking dishes is no longer an excuse for getting out of the washing up. ‘I can’t cook’ is no longer a feasible excuse for staying out of the kitchen when ovens are available on the market to work out the perfect cooking times and temperatures at the touch of a fancy digital display.

Feigning throwing up while changing nappies is also so last decade. Lemon and beer scented liners are in the pipeline with nappies having pictures of the latest swimsuit models.  Don’t think that all the wives/mothers fall for this crap… pun intended. They are a step ahead of us guys.

Hello! The same applies to washing machines. If you can operate a Playstation, then you can operate a washing machine. That’s their philosophy. See what I mean by women inventors? Simple buttons and attractive displays should be enough to attract the simplest man. Equipped with the latest technology to work out the weight of a load, the optimum amounts of water and ideal wash time there is just no excuse anymore. Some woman with a sexy voice telling you what a man you are while she explains which buttons to push. I bet they’re even working on games that would include hanging the bloody stuff up. Even the environment is catered for with minimum water and energy being used without the need for any forethought on the behalf of man.

Coffee makers have advanced to a point where a few minutes programming to start with will provide personalised coffee to four individuals. Type of coffee, amount of milk, amount of water and water temperature can all be specified. Automatic beer ejectors are on the cards too. A clap of the hands sets the fridge to launch the next beer in your general direction.

So, you’ve been emailed by your fridge with your shopping needs which you picked up on the way home. You make yourself a cup of tea with water straight from the new fangled tap that provides instant boiling water. Throw the dinner in the oven and let it do the working out while you remove clean, dry clothes from the washer/dryer that did its stuff while you were out.

After dinner, waste is fed to the waste disposal unit and the dishwasher takes over with the cleaning while you sit and relax with a cup of coffee made to your requirements and previously timed to be drinkable just when you are ready for it.

A perfect evening for a single man.  What do you need women for? Aren’t they working themselves out of a job. Just saying!

Categories: Guest Posts, Humor | Tags: , , , | 5 Comments

A pocket Tazer for their anniversary?

A pocket Tazer for their anniversary?

pocket tazer

Author unknown but really funny!

 

Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my
interest…

The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little
something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a

100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized tazer.

 

The effects of the tazer 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.

Loaded two AAA 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 arc of electricity darting back and forth between the

 

AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie 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 AAA 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

 

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a

second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But,

if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself

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,

and tazer in the other.

 

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; and 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

 

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″

long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy

AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and 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 so as to say, ‘Don’t do it stupid,’ reasoning that a one second

burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I

decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I

touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and …

 

HOLY MOTHER OF.. . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE …!!!

 

I’m pretty sure Hulk Hogan 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 a

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 making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging

to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an

attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the

living room.

 

Note: If you ever feel compelled to ‘mug’ yourself with a tazer, 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!

 

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. The

recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it

originally was. 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 had no control over the drooling.

 

Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for

sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above

my head, which I believe came from my hair. I’m still looking for my

testicles and I’m offering a significant reward for their safe return!

 

P.s… My wife can’t stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!

Categories: Guest Posts, Humor, Re-blogs | Tags: , , , | 5 Comments

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