Oink
When a man loves pork sandwiches and a woman who allegedly loves the man (and whom the man loved in return) thinks that the man loves the pork sandwiches too much (and eats them with a frequency that would concern even the Federal Pork Council in the woman's opinion), said woman plots a way in which to teach the man a lesson; a lesson that will lessen his pork sandwich consumption.
One day the woman, as she had almost daily for the last 15 years, was preparing the man's pork sandwich and finally decided that this would be the day to hatch her diabolical plot to end the man's unsatiated desire for pork sandwiches (in the woman's mind it could not be that healthy to be consuming that much pork and it was putting a strain on the man and the woman's finances and love life). In lieu of using the oven to cook the raw pork, the woman instead 'cooked' the meat by placing it in proximity of a plugged in waffle iron (as the man learned at a later date). Not on it, near it (perhaps even as close to it as the wingspan of your common titmouse) for approximately 2 minutes (a time that any pork preparer will tell you is wholly inaquate) and, after loading the pork onto the bread, brought it to the man (who was at the time sitting in his recliner and enjoying a rerun of Hello, Larry). The woman was secretly delighted to see the man chug-a-lunch the pork sandwich in seconds flat. The woman's ploy was afoot.
Several months passed before the man noted that something was not quite right with him physically; it might have been the severe cramps, unceasing diarrhea, and strange segmented chunks in his stool that alerted the man to his predicament. A trip to the doctor's office was followed by days of stool collecting for the doctor to examine. It was soon discovered that the man had a fifty foot tapeworm living in his digestive track. The undercooked pork contained little 'demons' that had invaded the man's intestines and had erected a tubular worm-like segmented 'factory' for the sole purpose of filching the man's digesting meals (like the very pork from which they sprung). The man easily deduced that the woman was behind his condition amd became quite irate with her. The man than moved into a room at the motor lodge.
And that is why daddy doesn't live with mommy anymore, Jeremy.
T
When a man loves pork sandwiches and a woman who allegedly loves the man (and whom the man loved in return) thinks that the man loves the pork sandwiches too much (and eats them with a frequency that would concern even the Federal Pork Council in the woman's opinion), said woman plots a way in which to teach the man a lesson; a lesson that will lessen his pork sandwich consumption.
One day the woman, as she had almost daily for the last 15 years, was preparing the man's pork sandwich and finally decided that this would be the day to hatch her diabolical plot to end the man's unsatiated desire for pork sandwiches (in the woman's mind it could not be that healthy to be consuming that much pork and it was putting a strain on the man and the woman's finances and love life). In lieu of using the oven to cook the raw pork, the woman instead 'cooked' the meat by placing it in proximity of a plugged in waffle iron (as the man learned at a later date). Not on it, near it (perhaps even as close to it as the wingspan of your common titmouse) for approximately 2 minutes (a time that any pork preparer will tell you is wholly inaquate) and, after loading the pork onto the bread, brought it to the man (who was at the time sitting in his recliner and enjoying a rerun of Hello, Larry). The woman was secretly delighted to see the man chug-a-lunch the pork sandwich in seconds flat. The woman's ploy was afoot.
Several months passed before the man noted that something was not quite right with him physically; it might have been the severe cramps, unceasing diarrhea, and strange segmented chunks in his stool that alerted the man to his predicament. A trip to the doctor's office was followed by days of stool collecting for the doctor to examine. It was soon discovered that the man had a fifty foot tapeworm living in his digestive track. The undercooked pork contained little 'demons' that had invaded the man's intestines and had erected a tubular worm-like segmented 'factory' for the sole purpose of filching the man's digesting meals (like the very pork from which they sprung). The man easily deduced that the woman was behind his condition amd became quite irate with her. The man than moved into a room at the motor lodge.
And that is why daddy doesn't live with mommy anymore, Jeremy.
T
posted by Tony at 4:37 PM
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