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Monday, April 21, 2014Greetings Laff Lovers,
The wife was volunteering at the community center this weekend. So pretty much she was gone from nine in the morning until nine at night both Saturday and Sunday.
That left me in charge of the house and the kids.
Well, "in charge" is a liberal interpretation of the situation. I was chauffeur, cook and referee. After 48 hours they had me worn pretty thin.
It was nothing in particular, just the constant whining, needling and demanding. Without even realizing it I had shifted into a sort of permanent disciplinary mode.
Sunday night my sixteen-year-old asked me something, I don't remember what, something about dinner, and after I answered her I noticed her somewhat shocked and slightly hurt expression.
"What?" I demanded.
"Why are you yelling at me?"
"I'm not yelling!" I shouted. "This is just how dads talk."
Parentally,
TZ
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GopherArchives"I dropped my iPhone in my coffee over the weekend. This ruined my iPhone and my coffee. I lost my downloads, and my coffee tasted like porn." -Craig Ferguson
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The bum turned to leave and muttered, "Fine, I'll just go wait at the bottom."
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A priest had the weight of the world on him and was showing the effects. The church sent him to a psychiatrist, who ordered him to take a week off. The priest went to the largest city in the area. After about a dozen belts of neat whiskey, he found himself in one of the city's clip joints.
A waitress in a flimsy, low-cut uniform came over and asked, "What'll it be, Father?"
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