this should probably be posted under the first date thread as there are some certain parts of the anatomy discussed here also. thanks ranchwife
Cat Lover or not, this is hysterical!
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't
think anyone can top this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No
matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the
feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied
anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating.
I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury,
and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day.
By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain
the bandage on the top of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to
my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially,
the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast
when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come
reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the
shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and
sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then,
"C'mon, it'll only take you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that
my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about
how I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under
sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember
performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my
circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing
me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who
discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied
hanging between my legs.
She had been poised around the corner and stalked me
as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment
when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I
unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like
claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily
movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with
the full weight of kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight"
syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight"
option.
I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up
into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully
impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
Money can't buy you happiness, but it does bring you a more
pleasant form of misery.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding
oneself lying on the kitchen floor buck naked in front of a
group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the
paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct
their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical
laughter... and not succeeding. Somehow I lived through it all.
A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where
colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my
head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk
about, which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
If they only knew!
Cat Lover or not, this is hysterical!
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't
think anyone can top this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No
matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the
feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied
anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating.
I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury,
and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day.
By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain
the bandage on the top of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to
my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially,
the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast
when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come
reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the
shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and
sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then,
"C'mon, it'll only take you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that
my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about
how I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under
sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember
performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my
circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing
me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who
discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied
hanging between my legs.
She had been poised around the corner and stalked me
as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment
when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I
unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like
claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily
movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with
the full weight of kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight"
syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight"
option.
I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up
into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully
impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
Money can't buy you happiness, but it does bring you a more
pleasant form of misery.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding
oneself lying on the kitchen floor buck naked in front of a
group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the
paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct
their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical
laughter... and not succeeding. Somehow I lived through it all.
A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where
colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my
head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk
about, which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
If they only knew!