Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Support Group
This community is a place where members can discuss current events and weigh in on what's going on in the world.
HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY? (written by kids)
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10
No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10
HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that Usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-- Craig, age 9
WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
- - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
-- Howard, age 8
IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10
No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kristen, age 10
WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10
HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8
WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that Usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10
WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?
I'd run home and play dead The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-- Craig, age 9
WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7
The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
- - Curt, age 7
The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
-- Howard, age 8
IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
-- Kelvin, age 8
And the #1 Favorite is........
HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
One Man's Good Fight..... I went grocery shopping recently, while not
being altogether sure that the said 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 mess yourself' chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a
written guarantee from me that if you eat it, 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'.. Despite habanera 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 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 habaneras 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! Well, 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 in the history of mankind. 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. BIG, BIG
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 laughing guffaw, an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told that a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing 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.
THIS TIME, luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time, I got to the
john, began the inevitable 'Oh, My God!, floating above the toilet seat
because my butt 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, ' Oh, My God!', then 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 finishing the shopping, 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. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store.........
One Man's Good Fight..... I went grocery shopping recently, while not
being altogether sure that the said 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 mess yourself' chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a
written guarantee from me that if you eat it, 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'.. Despite habanera 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 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 habaneras 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! Well, 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 in the history of mankind. 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. BIG, BIG
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 laughing guffaw, an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told that a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing 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.
THIS TIME, luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time, I got to the
john, began the inevitable 'Oh, My God!, floating above the toilet seat
because my butt 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, ' Oh, My God!', then 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 finishing the shopping, 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. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store.........
Thanks to you, I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel.
I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.
I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.
I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking their nose. (Although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot)
Eating a Little Debbie sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons o f trans-fats I have consumed over the years.
I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.
I must send my special thanks to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.
Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.
I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.
I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.
I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.
I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.
I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.
Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my frien ds and make a wish within five minutes.
Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.
I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.
I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.
I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.
And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face...disfiguring me for life.
I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.
I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.
I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.
I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops.
I no longer answer the phone b ecause someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore and Uzbekistan
I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.
Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.
And thanks to your great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was plac ed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.
I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!
If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician...
Have a wonderful day....
Oh, by the way.....
A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.
Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late