MacBros' Place |

[kml_flashembed fversion="8.0.0" movie="http://www.macbrosplace.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/mountie.swf" targetclass="flashmovie" publishmethod="static" width="111" height="200" align="left" menu="false"/] A Mountie stops a driver for running a red light. The guy is a real jerk and comes running back to the officer demanding to know why he is being harassed by the Gestapo! So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation. The “Motorist” instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer’s ancestry, sexual orientation, etc., in rather explicit terms.

The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.

When he gets done with writing the ticket he puts an “AH” in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the “Violator” for his signature. The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the “AH” and demands to know what it stands for.

The Mountie says, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember that you’re an Asshole!“

Two months later they’re in court. The “Violator” has such a bad driving record he is about to lose his license and has hired a lawyer to represent him. On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run the red light. Under cross examination the defence attorney asks; “Officer is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket you issued my client?“

Officer responds, “Yes sir, that is the defendants copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top.“

Lawyer: “Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don’t normally make?“
Officer: “Yes sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an “AH,” underlined.“
Lawyer: “What does the “AH” stand for, officer?“
Officer: “Aggressive and Hostile Sir.“

Lawyer: “Aggressive and Hostile?“
Officer: “Yes Sir?“

Lawyer: “Officer, Are you sure it doesn’t stand for Asshole?“
Officer: “Well Sir, You know your client better than I do!“

but not me. 

I’ve been getting this damn message all day!!!

No seriously, please stop sending them to me.

Just spread the word, but just make sure whoever you send it to that they know that I have already received it.

I’m not kidding, please, do not send me any more. I appreciate the compliment, but I am still making my way through the first 10,000 messages. I’m just trying to find that e-mail that has my job application reply, but all these, “Holy shit your hot!” e-mails are making it hard to find it.

And yes, I AM full of myself.

Thanks for the e-mail Other Mac.

The IRS decides to audit Grandpa, and summons him to the IRS office. The IRS auditor was not surprised when Grandpa showed up with his attorney.

The auditor said, ‘Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, Which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I’m not sure the IRS finds that believable.’

I’m a great gambler, and I can prove it,’ says Grandpa. ‘How about a demonstration?’

The auditor thinks for a moment and said, ‘Okay. Go ahead.’

Grandpa says, ‘I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye.’

The auditor thinks a moment and says, ‘It’s a bet.’

Grandpa removes his glass eye and bites it.

The auditor’s jaw drops.

Grandpa says, ‘Now, I’ll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye.’

Now the auditor can tell Grandpa isn’t blind, so he takes the bet.

Grandpa removes his dentures and bites his good eye.

The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Grandpa’s attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.

‘Want to go double or nothing?’ Grandpa asks ‘I’ll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between.’

The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there’s no way this old guy could possibly manage that stunt, so he agrees again.

Grandpa stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can’t make the stream reach the wastebasket on the other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the auditor’s desk.

The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win.

But Grandpa’s own attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.

‘Are you okay?’ the auditor asks.

‘Not really,’ says the attorney. ‘Th is morning, when Grandpa told me he’d been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you’d be happy about it!

I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented ‘You’re definitely going to Shit yourself ‘ chili.

Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.

Here’s the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened.  No ‘Watson’s Movement 2′. Despite habanero peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.

Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market, a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits. Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal.  I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase.

It wasn’t until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me. Oh, don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m referring to that ‘Uh oh, gotta go’ pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time.

The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneros in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.

There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it. I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she walked into it unsuspecting.

Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here’s what I mean, and I’m sure some of you at least will be able to relate. I could’ve warned that poor woman but didn’t. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses  and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. Mistake.

Here’s the thing. When you laugh, it’s hard to keep things ‘clamped down’, if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun. Suddenly things were no longer funny. It was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I’d make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the toilet, began the inevitable ‘Oh my God’, floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging.. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of ‘Shock and Awe’. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, ‘Sonavabitch’ and quickly left.

Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, ‘Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.’

That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, ‘IT’S YOU!’, then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.

Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Albertson’s. I can’t say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter.

Bastards claim they’re going to have to repaint the store..

Hat tip to Dragon Lady.

The Good Wife's Guide

This was sent to me by e-mail. It has been sitting in my in-box since April 6th, 2008. I’m just now getting around to posting it. I was actually debating if I should or not, some might be offended, then after thinking that, I posted it, because it’s what I do.

It’s a Good Housekeeping article from 1955 on how a Housewife should do her duties in the home the proper way.

The last one. “Always know your place.” was the one that got a chuckle out of me.

If I didn’t know any better, I bet this was written by some guy who was sick and tired coming home to a grouchy wife and a filthy home everyday after work. He was probably tired of being nagged at when he came home from the pub.

Were people so gullible in the 50’s?

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