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Butt measurement

A man and his wife were working in their garden 1 day
And the man looks over at his wife and says:
"Your butt is getting really big, I mean really big.
I bet your butt is bigger than the barbecue."
With that, he proceeded to get a measuring tape
And measured the grill and then went over to
Where his wife was working
And measured his wife's bottom.
"Yes, I was right, your butt is 2" wider than the barbecue!!!"
The woman chose to ignore her husband.

Later that night in bed,
The husband is feeling a little frisky.
He makes some advances towards his wife
Who completely brushes him off.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
She answers: " Do you really think
I'm going to fire up this big-ass grill
For one little weenie ?"

THE MOST WASTED OF ALL DAYS IS ONE WITHOUT LAUGHTER.

IF THIS DOESN'T MAKE YOU LAUGH THEN WELL >> I CANT HELP YOU

LOS ANGELES—Just moments after successfully stopping his patient's
heart at 10:30 p.m. Tuesday, bleary-eyed surgeon Dr. Dennis Kelly
called it a night and decided to finish performing quadruple bypass
surgery on Harold Cruz, 67, in the morning.

"Honestly, all these organs are looking the same to me right now,"
said Kelly, calling his mind "complete mush." "I need to take a nice
long breather and come back to this with fresh eyes."

Kelly said that he knew it was time to put aside the surgery when he
caught himself attempting to re-harvest the exact same femoral vein he
had removed 20 minutes earlier.

Woke up this morning

Heard the TV sayin' something

'Bout disaster in the world and

It made me wonder where I'm going

There's so much darkness in the world

But I see beauty left in you girl

And what you give me makes me know

That I'll be alright


Because if your love was all I had

In this life

Well that would be enough

Until the end of time

So rest your weary heart

And relax your mind

Cause I'm gonna love you girl

Until the end of time


You've got me singing

Oh whoa, yeah

Oh whoa, yeah

Everybody sing

Oh whoa, yeah

Everybody singing

Oh whoa yeah


Now if you're ever wondering

About the way I'm feeling

Well baby girl there ain't no question

Just to be around you is a blessing

Sick and tired of trying to save the world

I just want to spend my time with you girl

And what you're giving me

Makes me know that we'll be alright.


Because if your love was all I had

In this life

Well that would be enough

Until the end of time

So rest your weary heart

And relax your mind

Cause I'm gonna love you girl

Until the end of time


You've got me singing

Oh whoa, yeah

Oh whoa, yeah

Everybody sing

Oh whoa, yeah

Everybody singing

Oh whoa yeah


This one's for the lovers

If you're out there let me hear you say

Yeah, yeah, yeah

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

This one's for the lovers

If you're out there let me hear you say

Yeah, yeah

(Yeah, yeah)

This one's for the lovers

If you're out there let me hear you say

Yeah, yeah, yeah

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

This one's for the lovers

If you're out there let me hear you say

Yeah, yeah

(Yeah, yeah)


Oh whoa yeah

Oh whoa yeah

Oh whoa yeah

Oh whoa yeah


Cause if your love was all I had

In this life

That would be enough

Until the end of time........

Good-by, proud world, I'm going home,
Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine;
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam,
But now, proud world, I'm going home.

Good-by to Flattery's fawning face,
To Grandeur, with his wise grimace,
To upstart Wealth's averted eye,
To supple Office low and high,
To crowded halls, to court, and street,
To frozen hearts, and hasting feet,
To those who go, and those who come,
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home.

I'm going to my own hearth-stone
Bosomed in yon green hills, alone,
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green the livelong day
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet.

 
My All time Fave Poem....

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 
Then took the other, just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.

Friendship is like the breeze,

You can't hold it,

Smell it,

Taste it,

Or know when it's coming,

But you can always feel it,

And you'll always know it's there,

It may come and then go,

But you can know it'll always be back.

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