How was it for you?

This Christmas was like most others lately, I got designated as ‘designated driver’, a job I hate but always seem to get on these occasions. Anyone know where the list is made and how you get your name taken off the list?
Recently I decided I needed a challenge and since I'm somewhat famous for not being able to make anything from wood but a damn good fire I naturally chose to make a boat…from wood. The bits are out there in the shed right now, all cut out and waiting for supplies to arrive via courier. One of my son-in-laws saw it there and nearly hurt himself with laughter, something about it NOT keeping my ass out of the water. At the moment it looks a little like a nativity scene boat…but that will change over the coming weeks/months. You cant rush these things you know… and I've only had the plans for ten years so it might be a good time to actually read them eh?
This got me thinking about men and plans. We don’t need them…or at least we don’t think we do. It also got me thinking about my son-in-law and some payback.
How fortuitous then that I should turn up at his house on Christmas day to find him and his brother assembling a new flat pack BBQ. My daughter had put up her hand to host Christmas day for our two families and poor Stan was designated cook. (there's that word again)
The two young fellows were surrounded by boxes of parts and tools and looking perplexed at the apparently limitless heap of bits they had to assemble to make this rather large six burner unit.
They started at 10.30am..
I saw my chance at some payback here.
They didn’t need the plans, so they thought. After all, how hard could it be?
We all gathered our chairs and sat around them offering advice about which bit went where, as you would expect all my advice was complete fiction and absolutely wrong. Bits were bolted on...then taken off to be replaced with the right bit…which was taken off to be turned around the right way. Parts were thrown, tools too, and I was told to ‘shut the f*** up’ numerous times.
Eventually they retrieved the plans and actually began following them. (no fun at all)
But you don’t get this old by giving up easily… I went searching the bins and came out with several sets of gift plans for, among other things, a childs scooter, a pram and a set of nesting tables. Covers removed and discarded I went into action by swapping pages every chance I got. Everyone was in on the joke except the two lads putting it all together and all joined in enthusiastically.
It actually got funnier from here on in, more parts bolted on then off and more parts and tools thrown than ever before. Stan spent a few minutes looking for the storage tray for underneath the pram before realizing I’d suckered him.
They did eventually get the BBQ together amidst much joking and ribbing and they did eventually start cooking lunch…at about 2.30pm.
I hope your Christmas was as much fun as mine was..
Cheers
Kymbo



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Funnies

Just a few funnies for the holiday season...

If this seem familiar to you then turn off the PC and go outside into the sunshine...


Is it just me or is this the general feeling about work these days?


Yep, been there, should have bought a paddle..


GO lil buddy...GO!

Christmas?

I've been a bit quiet lately...a bit of writers block, a bit of 'Oh so busy' and a fair amount of having to spend time programing a new PC that's obviously way smarter than I am. I'm not trying to make excuses cause that's just life eh? But you should know that I'm still snatching precious minutes to read your pages , even if my tortured mind does not allow me to think of smart and witty comments. (did I ever?)
Merry Christmas to you all.

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Are men hopeless or not?

Recently I stuffed up a simple recipe, I expected to get some good-hearted stirring but instead got the old ‘men should stay out of the kitchen’ routine.
No one expects men to be able to cook, and when we do, it is a choir of ‘Hmm, that’s not bad…for a man.’
Ladies, let me remind you how sexist that is!
If a woman’s house is untidy they are reminded to get off their ass and catch up, but when a mans house is untidy it is all, ‘Well, he is a man, what do you expect’, or ‘let me do that for you. (you hopeless dimwit)’.

Once we lived in caves and ate dead things…raw! All one had to do was throw the yucky bits out the front of the cave or back into the corners, thereby giving archaeologists something to work with in the future. No floor to sweep, no windows to wash, nothing to paint, clean, trim or mow...and man was as happy as a pig in shi… alright, maybe that’s not a good analogy.
However, somewhere along the line someone decided that we desperately needed to move to a more affluent neighborhood. I am guessing it was someone’s wife…
Now I have to tell you that men and women have different standards, what is clean to a man may not reach the lofty standards set by most women. When you ask your man if something is clean or not, he is looking to see if you can see the thing through the layer of dust…if you can, it is clean! Simple. (remember the cave)
Cooking is the same, is the meat bleeding and moving about? No, then it is ready, dig in.
For some reason women recoil at this relaxed state that men seem genetically predisposed to??

Then there is the ‘Hopeless Gambit’ an all-encompassing theory put into practice when you are asked to do something you do not want to do. It works like this, stuff it up badly enough, often enough and you will not be asked to do it again. (it works surprisingly well) I have witnessed this done by all manner of men, from lowly husband’s right up to our Prime Minister.

What I am saying here is that some men are lowering the standards well below the achievable. Whether deliberately or coincidentally they make us all seem inept and childlike…and I am confused! I do not know whether to scold them or thank them.



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Guns and wives do not a good mix make.

I’ve had guns since I was about 10 or 11, my dad bought me a .22 slug gun and off we went to get a gun license. It cost .75 cents and all I had to do to get it was to ask.
Twenty years ago I was handed my three year old daughter to care for so I sold the last of the guns and haven’t had a gun since. I’ve done a lot of hunting and like many old hunters, I had a kind of awakening and now I wouldn’t hurt a fly. (Well...maybe a fly! Pesky things) Over the years I’ve had maybe 12-15 different guns, but having been raised with them I learned quite young how to care for them and more importantly how NOT to handle them. I’ve been in several close calls with guns and been shot twice. (yes, I know…what a twit) Maybe I’ll tell you about that one day, but today I’ll tell you about the time my dear wife nearly blew my head off.. on purpose!
I was going duck hunting with friends so I bought a shotgun. As a joke I took several shotgun shells and removed the pellets leaving only the wadding, powder and firing cap, which makes it sound like its gone off but there is no ‘bullet’. I put the shells back together so I could swap them into my friends gun as a laugh. This way he would shoot but not hit anything and I could give him shit for being a bad shot. My then new wife was not raised around guns and therefore did not know rule number1.

RULE 1: Don’t ever aim a gun at anyone…EVER.
She had watched me unload the shells and when I went for a shower she got and unloaded a shell to play a trick on me. I walked out of the shower and as I walked down the hall she called to me, I turned as she raised the gun to her shoulder, aimed at me, and fired. (very surreal) I actually saw the missiles coming at me and instinctively dived out of the way. We were about 15 feet apart. (5meters) and I felt the shock wave push past me. There I lay spread eagled on the quarry tiles as a huge cloud of smoke filled the room and the thunderous echo rang through my head. I knew from the sound and smoke that it was a real shotgun shell and was unsure whether to run or what to do.(beg? )
She burst into tears and I realized it was a joke gone badly wrong, the look on her face said it all; she had terrified herself as much as she had me! In her haste she didn’t clean the shell out properly and several pellets the wadding and powder remained in the cartridge. There was a 50 cent size hole in the wall at ear height and another on the inside of the bedroom wall and another in the end of our wardrobe. The pellets and wadding went right through the wall and into the wardrobe which is where I found the bits. (the still closed wardrobe was full of smoke)
Of course I repeated rule number one to her many times after that but need not have worried, the poor girl had given us both the shock of a lifetime and never did anything like that again.
Just to be sure, I took all the firing pins out of my guns without telling her and kept them hidden. ( A little insecure?...you better believe it!)
Did we fight about it?
Well, no, if you could have seen her face you would know why, she was already well freaked out…and me! I was grateful to be alive. (laugh along with me now)



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