"You'll feel better after it stops hurting".
Happy Friday
Nate
I hear ya, what about until the pain stops hurting? ?????ÿ
"That part of your anatomy, between the sledge and rebar gonna be hurting"
Intentionally hitting something solid viciously with some portion of your anatomy will be the cause of the hurting and after the hurt goes away you will be feeling better and hopefully this experience will lead you to discontinue said practice.
"That part of your anatomy, between the sledge and rebar gonna be hurting"
When my boys were little their mother used to always get on to me for cussing when I'd whack mt shinbone or mash my thumb with a hammer.?ÿ My argument was that there is a limited number of words with which one can cry out with clenched teeth.
So I'm pretty much OK with screaming like a drunk sailor when I mash some part of me with a hammer.?ÿ Even Jesus hisself would understand.?ÿ After all he was a carpenter.?ÿ 😉
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I think I've told this story but anyway...?ÿ ?????ÿ
Based on the car I was driving, a light green Chevy 4-door Impala, this would have been mid- to late-80s, so I was likely over 18. I'd driven my dad to a bookstore and we paused after getting back into the car afterwards. I turned out of the parking lot and my door swung open. I excitedly uttered "s***!!", slammed the door shut, and tried to calm myself while continuing to drive. Dad (born 1928) calmly started telling me how young men would prefer the young women they're interested in to not use swear words. Meanwhile, I'm loudly thinking, 'where the heck do you think I learned that swear word...DAD??'
- @holy-cowBut it feels so good when I stop.???æ
@mkennedy?ÿ Could have been worse. I was nine years old and my mother was driving me to some appointment in our '64 Jeep Wagoneer (pre seat belt era) that had a hinky passenger side door.?ÿ At a busy urban intersection as she was making a left turn the door swung open and I slid out across the street and hit the curb.?ÿ I was scraped up but otherwise OK.?ÿ My Mom was apoplectic.
The Jeep's still around.?ÿ My brother, an A&P mechanic, barged it to Alaska, stripped it to the frame and rebuilt it.?ÿ A cherry one Bluebooks for $28,000, his, um not so much after 40 years in Alaska, allegedly about $9,000.
I worked for a neighboring farmer, starting when I was only nine or ten years old.?ÿ My mother frequently reminded me that I should not repeat words that he might say in my presence.?ÿ She was absolutely correct about that.?ÿ He used more curse words than one could ever find alphabetized in an 800-page book of curse words.?ÿ Everything had some descriptive adjective attached to it.?ÿ Such as: a ****ing board, a ******* chicken, a ********* tractor.?ÿ He introduced me to entire phrases that only bad, big boys should ever utter.
Many years later I met a fellow who could keep up with him.?ÿ He had some registered Angus bulls for sale and I was considering purchasing one.?ÿ As we drove around he would utter one curse after another.?ÿ I was immediately reminded of my old neighbor friend who has been playing cards with the Devil for many years now.
Years ago we had a small water wheel that drove a piston pump that lifted water about 20m up to a 50,000L tank. Anyway, it needed repair, so I spent a day disconnecting it and wheeling it out of the creek bed, onto the trailer. The neighbour also loaded on a spikey thing, that mounted on a tractor 3 point hitch, which they called a buck rake. The largest workshop in town (capable of doing fabrication of Navy frigates) was known to the family so I sailed down there to offload both items for repair and was told to see the foreman, Fred.
It was incredibly noising inside, with all the hammering and grinding etc but I got directed right into the middle of the workshop and a tall, rangy, 55'ish, silver haired gentleman came over and introduced himself as Fred. That's as far as the niceties got. I asked if someone could help me offload and Fred said "F*ck it, I'm not f*ing well f*ing lifting those f*ing, f*ed, f*ing things, you can f*ing well f*ing do it your f*ing self". And he left.
So, I started un-roping things and began to haul off the buck rake, when something brushed my shoulder. Fred was back, and the thing that had brushed my shoulder was the hook of the overhead crane, and Fred had the remote controller in his hand. Fred said "Here, f*ck it, we'll f*ing well f*ing lift the f*ing, f*ed, f*ing things, with this f*ing thing". So we used the crane to offload.
As it happened, the neighbour owner of the buck rake, Dave Taylor, was also an employee of the workshop. I advised Fred of the buck rake ownership, and Fred began to vibrate and Fred said "If f*ing Dave f*ing Taylor f*ing well f*ing wants to f*ing fix his f*ing, f*ed, f*ing buck f*ing rake then Dave f*ing f*ck face Taylor can f*ing well f*ing fix it his f*ing, f*ed up f*ing self".
I left it at that and on the drive home started to laugh, and concluded that perhaps Fred had only just leant of the F-word and was making up for lost time. I advised the family of what went down and they were able to identify him and were surprised given that Fred was a pastor in one of the local denominations. Anyway, after that we nicknamed him F*ing Fred.
That's kind of way out there, maybe a Presbyterian??ÿ Or Orthodox?
O well. I once told my kids that f**** was a rather crass slang way to say mate, as in reproduce. And that guy thinks his canoe is trying to mate with that tree. The reason is he's had alot of beer. He's simply confused, because he did not see the tree coming.
Don't drink, or you'll fail to see important things coming either.
Nate
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I don't know but I think he was part time pastoral, so we also assumed that he needed to let off steam after being pious, which we all need to do from time.?ÿ
I worked with a guy who had a terrible stuttering affliction.?ÿ If he could intersperse a few cuss words into a sentence he could get it all out in one quick spurt.
i wouldn't even try to explain some of the words he used, but I heard he also blurted them out at the bowling alley to the chagrin of all the surrounding bowlers.
@mike-marksmy first car at 16 in 1976 was my dad's former survey rig 66 Wagoneer. Was not a hit with the chicks, but I've never owned a vehicle with a trunk since.
I have had several Australian shepherds on my?ÿ jobs over the years. As a solo I occasionally let my frustrations out loud when my work is not going well. (Loud cussing in the deep woods is a perk of soloing) my last Aussie would hear me start to let it rip and immediately jump up, wiggle her stub tail and bare her teeth wide, is if smiling, and beg me to play with her. Bless her heart, she convinced me that I should just enjoy my job, so I stopped cussing out loud, for about 3 years now. She is right!
I have had several Australian shepherds on my?ÿ jobs over the years. As a solo I occasionally let my frustrations out loud when my work is not going well. (Loud cussing in the deep woods is a perk of soloing) my last Aussie would hear me start to let it rip and immediately jump up, wiggle her stub tail and bare her teeth wide, is if smiling, and beg me to play with her. Bless her heart, she convinced me that I should just enjoy my job, so I stopped cussing out loud, for about 3 years now. She is right!
I have a friend who is a pastor.?ÿ But, don't sit anywhere near him at a basketball game.?ÿ It seems the ******* referee is a ********* and an *********.?ÿ This, of course, is bellowed out to where anyone in attendance can hear him on a somewhat regular basis, depending on the quality of the calls.
I live with a pack of four Aussie Shepherds collectively known as "the girls".?ÿ If I cry out or cuss in frustration all four at once attempt to get in my lap (even if I'm standing) and lick me to death.?ÿ ?ÿI'm sorry to say it hasn't cured me from cussing a blue streak at times.
However it does make me aware of where the dogs are at before I let loose.
