Processes of elimination
It’s, er, 9 degrees F out right now. And let me tell you — I expected to put up with a lot of crap when I moved downtown, OK? — but I ain’t never seen so much frozen urine in all my life. And unfortunately, most of it is human.
Speaking of #2, the big gossip in the etymologically orphaned ConneXtions Lofts right now is the big sign on the bulletin board that reads, “I LIVE IN 308! I HAVE A DOG! MY DOG DOES NOT SHIT OUTSIDE BY THE PARKING LOT DOOR! YOU ARE RUINING IT FOR THE OTHER DOG OWNERS!” This has a pen attached and six signatories, basically all saying, “We agree! #60x” and “Amen to that! #30x” (Me, I put up a five page info packet on the fact that a neighboring historic building may be bulldozed to build us a blank wall to look at, and I get one lonely e-mail.)
I have no comments on the urine, except I have heard you can sell “clean Urine” on ebay for job drug test purposes.
I did want to share this cute joke, and I ask again when are we getting the ASKKARIN column?
A Successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was a very good looking woman, and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.Two men applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk.
She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied, she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.
He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well.
Then one day, the rancher’s widow said to the hired hand, “You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels.” The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.
One o’clock came, however, and he didn’t return. Two o’clock, and no hired hand. He returned around two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the rancher’s widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him. She quietly called him over to her.
“Unbutton my blouse and take it off,” she said. Trembling, he did as she directed.
“Now take off my boots.” He did as she asked, ever so slowly.
“Now take off my socks” He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.
“Now take off my skirt.” He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.
“Now take off my bra.” Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.
“Now,” she said, “take off my panties.” By the light of the fire, he slowly pulled them down and off.
Then she looked at him and said, “If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.”