jumperconway

Well, Im 46 and have been divorced for about 22yrs. I just ended a relationship of of about 15 months. Evey day is a new day. I just lost my mother. It is the hardest loss a son can have especially being the baby of the family. No matter how old I was , I was always her baby! Losing a wife, devestating, losing a mother, irreplaceable! Living single the rest of my life pales in comparison to living without the woman that gave me life! Godspeed.

>>>An old man and woman were married for many years, even >>>>>though they hated each other. When they had a confrontation, >>>>>screaming and yelling could be heard deep into the night. >>>>> >>>>>The old man would shout, "When I die, >>>>>I will dig my way up and out of the grave and come back and >>>>>haunt you for the rest of your life!" >>>>> >>>>>Neighbors feared him. They believed he practiced black magic >>>>>because of the many strange occurrences that >>>>>took place in their neighborhood. >>>>> >>>>>The old man liked the fact that he was feared. >>>>>To everyone's relief, he died of a heart attack when he was >>>>>68. >>>>> >>>>>His wife had a closed casket at the wake. >>>>>After the burial, she went straight to the local bar and >>>>>began to party as if there was no tomorrow. >>>>> >>>>>Her neighbors, concerned for her safety, >>>>>asked, "Aren't you afraid that he may indeed be able to dig >>>>>his way up and out of the grave and come back to haunt you >>>>>for the rest of your life?" >>>>> >>>>>The wife put down her drink and said, "Let him dig. I had >>>>>him buried upside down......."

OK JT, back to your cave!

I was almost eligible when I started the first time

Quote Do you ? Of course I do, I want to know who to avoid!

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd > just been run over > by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his > face is cut and > bruised and he's walking with a limp. > > "What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. > > "Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy. > > "That little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do > that to you, he > must have had something in his hand." > > "That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a > terrible lickin' > he gave me with it." > > "Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, > didn't you have > something in your hand?" > > "That I did," said Paddy... "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a > thing of beauty > it was, but useless in a fight." > =============================================== > > An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving > home from the > city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently > all over the > road. A cop pulls him over. "So," says the cop to the > driver, "where have > ya been?" > > "Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk. > > "Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few > to drink this > evening." > > "I did all right," the drunk says with a smile. > > "Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding > his arms across > his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell > out of your car?" > > > "Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "For a minute there, I > thought I'd > gone deaf." > > ======================================================= > > Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim > Finnegan arrives > at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've > somethin' to tell ya." > > > "Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But > where's my > husband?" > > "That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an > accident down > at the Guinness brewery..." > > "Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me.." > > "I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm > sorry." > > Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?" > > "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness > Stout and > drowned." > > "Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at > least go > quickly?" > > "Well, Brenda... no. In fact, he got out three times to > pee." > > ================================================== > > Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday > morning service, and > she's in tears. > > He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?" > > She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news My husband > passed away last > night." > > The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, > did he have any > last requests?" > > She says, "That he did, Father." > > The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary? " > > She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...' > > ================================================== > > AND THE BEST FOR LAST > > A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a > confessional booth, sits > down but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get > his attention > but the drunk continues to sit there Finally, the Priest > pounds three > times on the wall. > > The drunk mumbles, "ain't no use knockin; there's no paper > on this side > either"....

OK thanks for the boobies! I'm still curious what freek'n treaty? Sorry to ask a serious question in the BF.

OK I'll bite. What were they protesting?

I corrected that for ya! LMAO

I'm totally offended and you are no longer able to fly in the plane with me so you had better start walking to Dublin!

Maybe it's the fear that keeps you alive. Blue skies forever

1-get lessons first

Is there hair in those pictures? Knock down drag out!

priorities

Sure saved my fingers a lot of typing!!!!!!! Well said!!!!

Well fuk me for no invite! Happy Bday asshat!!

I'm no rigger and would be than happy to shit pack that reserve! For a beer! You owe, you buy! Karma.

In my first new rig I had from a 170 Silohuette to a Crossfire 99 no problem except the rig looked like the hunchback with a PD 150 reserve!

No and Ihear that sucking sound again!

This is soooo funny - but so painful to read! You will understand why! One of women's dilemmas Getting rid of unwanted hair--One woman's story. All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal: the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now ... The Wax. My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home, fixed dinner for my family and got everyone settled for the night. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I made sure no one would need me and I could head for the bathroom in peace. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever). No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girliest of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works. You'd think. So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax I go one better. I pull out the hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! So with my next wax strip, I'll move north. After checking on my beloved family again, I sneak 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 then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.) I inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind from the pain! ..... Vision returning. Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And RIIIP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed. Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy -- my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medalist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip? Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair -- the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout Nooooooo!! I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake -- up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Ass? Sealed shut. A little voice in my head says, "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in. The wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away, right? Wrong. I get in the tub -- the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment -- and I sit. Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glue d together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I'm stuck in the tub -- literally! I call my friend, Liz, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and vagina are stuck to the tub." She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is. "You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You're going to end up on a radio show or the Internet if you tell them the truth." While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girlie goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off! In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to Other subjects!) I find the lotion provided with the wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from Liz and we hang up. I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a moustache might start to come in. Tonight, I attempt hair dying.

Oh Ivan... That's ok. We still luv ya! Hello!

Conway, you ever seen the skanks/whores walking around a truckstop?? Those are lot lizards. Daaaaaainnn'ttt riiiittte

lot-lizard pussy? OK I'll bite, WTF is that?

Cute