Badjim.com

Another classic from Biker Mike in Nova Scotia:

A grade school teacher in Kentucky asked her students to use the word “fascinate” in a sentence.

Molly put up her hand and said, “My family went to my granddad’s farm, and we all saw his pet sheep. It was fascinating.”

The teacher said, “That was good, but I wanted you to use the word “fascinate, not fascinating.”

Sally raised her hand. She said, “My family went to see Rock City and I was fascinated.”

The teacher said, “Well, that was good Sally, but I wanted you to use the word “fascinate.”

Little Johnny raised his hand. The teacher hesitated because she had been burned by Little Johnny before.

She finally decided there was no way he could damage the word “fascinate”, so she called on him.

Johnny said, “My aunt Gina has a sweater with ten buttons, but her t!ts are so big she can only fasten eight.”

29
Bad Jim,

This has GOT to be the “site of the week,” if not of the year!

http://www.beerdrinkersagainstthemistreatmentofbeer.com/

Hugh ‘I want my Boatyard back’ Kress
Houston

Dear Bad Jim,
Is your new house in Pasadena as spotlessly clean as your old apartment in Bellaire?
I figure you have the place totally trashed by now.
Lolly Pop
Sugar Land, Texas

Lolly (if that’s your REAL name!),
There is a vast misconception going around about me. Those of you who actually know me (all three of you) think I am a fantastic housekeeper. That you can eat dinner off my floors and have to wear sunglasses to pee because my toilet fixtures are just that damn polished.

I’m sorry.

You are all laboring under what is known in the trade as A Misapprehension.

I am not A Fantastic Housekeeper. I am not even A Good Tidier. What I am, is slow but unstoppable. Like the mighty Mississippi, I just keep on keeping on, albeit without all those floods and pesky double consonants.

This could be mistaken for laziness in some circles, the way I clean house.
Let me assure you, gentle (3) readers, it is not. It is kindness and consideration.

Granted, it is kindness and consideration toward inanimate objects, but every
journey starts with a small step and perhaps some day I’ll progress to the spiritual level where I think of, say, my coworkers, in as kindly and considerate terms as I do my dirty socks.

Unlikely, but you never know, right?

Speaking of socks, let’s examine why my approach to housekeeping is one of delicacy and tact. Let’s say you are a sock, lying happily where you have been stripped off, on the kitchen floor. The Hand swoops down from the heavens, picks you up, and carefully deposits you three feet closer to the bedroom laundry hamper.

After you’ve acclimated to your new surroundings, once more The Hand descends, attains, and gently deposits, again a tad nearer the legendary BLH, where all Good Socks go when they’re removed. After several days of travel, you arrive at the BLH, and meet your friends, all of you soon to go to that Big Washing Machine in the sky.

Now, isn’t this much less stressful on a poor hosery element than to be rudely grabbed up and dumped unceremoniously into a dark, smelly container? Although for some (Dr Deho, I’m talking about you) it’s not so much of a difference.
But I digress…
We’re talking avoiding systemic shock, people. We’re talking a Kinder and Gentler tidying regime. We’re talking Cleaning Outside the Box.

We’re talking shite, yes, but remember, it’s me.

I am the tectonic plates of housekeeping.

I am not ashamed.

Bad Jim

Little Jimmy had just been put to bed for the umpteenth time and his mother’s patience was wearing thin.

“If I hear you call ‘Mother’ one more time, you will be punished,” she warned him sternly.

For a while it was quiet, and then she heart a small voice call from the top of the stairs, “Mrs. Jones? Can I have a drink of water?”

Not sure if this is from the Letterman Show, but it sounds like something they
would dream up.

Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you
think he could stand to lose a few pounds.

While he’s in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding ticket.

Leave him a note, explaining that you’ve gone away for the holidays. Ask if
he would mind watering your plants.

Keep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when
he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa suit!

Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that say “We hate Christmas,” and “Go away Santa”

Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called and wanted
to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on his way home.

Throw a surprise party for Santa when he comes down the chimney. Refuse to let him leave until the strippers arrive.

While he’s in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes
back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn’t have missed that last payment,
and take off.

Leave a plate filled with cookies and a glass of milk out, with a note that
says, “For The Tooth Fairy.” Leave another plate out with half a stale cookie
and a few drops of skim milk in a dirty glass with a note that says, “For Santa”

Take everything out of your house as if it’s just been robbed. When Santa arrives, show up dressed like a policeman and say, “Well, well. They always return to the scene of the crime.”

While he’s in the house, cover the top of the chimney with barbed wire.

Leave lots of hunting trophies and guns out where Santa’s sure to see them.
Go outside, yell, “Ooh! Look! A deer! And he’s got a red nose!” and fire a gun.

Leave out a Santa suit, with a dry-cleaning bill.

Paint “hoof-prints” all over your face and clothes. While he’s in the house, go out on the roof. When he comes back up, act like you’ve been “trampled.”
Threaten to sue.

Dress up like the Easter Bunny. Wait for Santa to come and then say, “This neighborhood ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

Merry Christmas from Bad Jim

A different kind of Christmas Story from MBlack of Southside Place, Texas:

There was this fellow who worked for the Post Office whose job it was to process
all the mail that had illegible addresses. One day a letter came to his desk,
addressed in a shaky handwriting to God. He thought, “Oh boy, better open this
one and see what it’s all about.” So he opened it and read: “Dear God, I am
an 83 year old widow living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole
my purse. It had $100.00 in it, which was all the money I had until my next
pension check. Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends
over for dinner. Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with. I have
no family to turn to, and you are my only hope. Can you please help me?”

The postal worker was touched, and went around showing the letter to all the
others. Each of them dug into his wallet and came up with a few dollars. By
the time he made the rounds, he had collected $96.00, which they put into an
envelope and sent over to her. The rest of the day, all the workers felt the
warm glow of the kind thing they had done.

Christmas came and went. A few days later another letter came from the old lady to God. All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened. It read, “Dear God, How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your gift of love I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift. By the way, there was $4 missing. I think it must have been those thieving bast@rds at the Post Office.”

From Fruit Fun Al in Australia:

A scientist from Texas A&M University has invented a bra that keeps women’s
breasts from jiggling and prevents the nipples from pushing through the fabric when cold weather sets in.

After the news conference announcing the invention, a large group of male Aggies took the scientist outside and kicked the 5hit out of him.