Thought I would share this I got it in an email the other day...hope you all like!!!

"And what did you do today?"




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 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 and every woman needs something to protect herself with, right??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home;

I 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 prongs. 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 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 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 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 if to say, 'don't do it, dummy,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little 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 GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . .
WHAT THE HELL!!

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 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 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.

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 pooped on myself, 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 loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

'If you think education is difficult, try being stupid.'

LOL

< anxiously awaits that guy's self-test of 10% Pepper Spray >

Funny, Right???

 Quote: Will Rambeau

< anxiously awaits that guy's self-test of 10% Pepper Spray >

And then the shower later in the evening...

I am weeping, head-down-on-the-desk, laughing. That was one of the funniest things I've read in a long time.

Thanks for sharing.

One for the girls:
(Disclaimer- this DID NOT happen to me)

Waxing . . . .

My night began as any other normal
weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the
thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:

'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of
the medicine cabinet.'

So I headed to the site of my demise: the
bathroom. It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. No melting a clump of hot
wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you
peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull
the hair right off.

No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I
mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure
this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its
two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them
together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to
1000 degrees. ('Cold wax, yeah...right!') I lay the strip across my thigh.
Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the
best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer
eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of
smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After
checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate
hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the
toilet.

Using the same procedure, I apply the wax
strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of
my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a
long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!!

Blinded from pain!!!!.....

OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I've only
managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP!
Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out...
must stay conscious...
must stay conscious.
Do I hear crashing drums???
Breathe, breathe... OK, back to normal. I
want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so
much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory
that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!

There's no hair on it.
Where is the hair???
WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still
perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the
strip... it's not! I touch. I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the
most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and
matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake... remember my foot is still
propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot
down.

SEALED SHUT!!!!
MY BUTT IS SEALED SHUT!
SEALED SHUT!!!!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to
figure out what to do and think to myself 'Please don't let me get the
urge to poop. My head may pop off!' What can I do to melt the wax? Hot
water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into
the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt
and I can gently wipe it off, right???

WRONG!!!!!!!******

I get in the tub - the water is slightly
hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical
equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether
regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to
the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't
melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had
cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me
a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!! I call my friend,
thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me
undone. It's a very good conversation starter...... 'So, my butt and
hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!' There is a slight
pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to
hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is
located, 'Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?' She's laughing out
loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I
call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be
the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions. I
resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better
than to have your girliegoodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to
the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!

By now the brain is not working, dignity has
taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic
Stress counseling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when
I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the
excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point?

I rub some on and
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

The scream probably woke the kids and scared
the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.
IT WORKS!! It works!!' I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and
she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the
wax and then notice to my grief and despair....

THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb
by now!
Nothing hurts!
I could have amputated my own leg at this
point!
Next week I'm going to try hair color.

Alyssa,

When I stop crying from laughing and sop up the keyboard I'll write a longer message... good show

LOL

These were just too good not to send to other people. They will not be able to escape notice if they read them at work. Mwha ha ha ...

I'm surprised I didn't wake the kids when I read them last night.

 Quote: Will Rambeau

< anxiously awaits that guy's self-test of 10% Pepper Spray >

I would take pepper spray over the taser any day of the week!