The B.S. Thread
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01-26-2010, 10:21 AM
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01-26-2010, 10:33 AM
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01-26-2010, 10:58 AM
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So, each morning I find myself going to the local website www.Montgomerycountynews.net Yesterday I went there hoping to see a nice write up on Jerry Davis. I did not find anything on him. I did find this stupid phucking article on the front page.
At least I don’t have to do it
By Cassie Litton-Gregory
January 24, 2010
There’s a certain wifely duty that I hate performing. I mean, sure, I did it a lot when we were dating, to impress my guy. But – to be perfectly honest – after we got married, I pretty much stopped doing it altogether.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me a few months ago when I found my husband at the computer, completely absorbed, watching this particular act being demonstrated online. He called it research, but it was more like obsession. I don’t know how long he’d been looking, but I guess it was kind of my fault for not being more… into it. So I let him look all he wanted. And he did. He looked as soon as he got home, after dinner, and even before bed. I thought it would never end.
Then one day, it happened. He had a credit card out, ready to make a bid. I figured what the heck? We might as well make it his Christmas present. And besides, it would save me once less guilt trip about not doing it myself.
Well, it turns out that was the best purchase we ever made. He’s using that thing at least three times a week and the change it’s made in our household has been wonderful. As soon as someone walks through our front door, he’s pulling it out and showing them all the parts and how they work.
Did I mention it’s a Kirby vacuum cleaner?
Yeah. Now our house is dusted and vacuumed to within an inch of its life. The ceiling fans have never been so clean and even our mattress has been given a once-over. The other day he had to whip it out to clean up the remains of a broken light bulb and used the opportunity to go over the rest of the carpet – at 10:30 at night!
I never knew anyone could be so excited about a household appliance, but there you have it. And evidently there’s an entire group of people out there who love and are dedicated to the apparently wondrous appeal of the Kirby. My daughter-in-law’s eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned his new toy and they talked model numbers and manufacturing years like two kids trading baseball cards for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I know it’s supposed to be a wonderful piece of equipment, self-propelled even, as Dalt has tried to show me several times. The only thing that baby won’t do is make dinner, I guess. But I’m immune to the fascination. My eyes glaze over and my brain switches off as soon as he pulls the stupid thing out.
But if it makes my man happy, far be it from me to deter his carpet cleaning, wood floor buffing, ceiling fan dusting joy.
Go to page 2 or click the link below for previous columns.
At least I don’t have to do it
By Cassie Litton-Gregory
January 24, 2010
There’s a certain wifely duty that I hate performing. I mean, sure, I did it a lot when we were dating, to impress my guy. But – to be perfectly honest – after we got married, I pretty much stopped doing it altogether.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me a few months ago when I found my husband at the computer, completely absorbed, watching this particular act being demonstrated online. He called it research, but it was more like obsession. I don’t know how long he’d been looking, but I guess it was kind of my fault for not being more… into it. So I let him look all he wanted. And he did. He looked as soon as he got home, after dinner, and even before bed. I thought it would never end.
Then one day, it happened. He had a credit card out, ready to make a bid. I figured what the heck? We might as well make it his Christmas present. And besides, it would save me once less guilt trip about not doing it myself.
Well, it turns out that was the best purchase we ever made. He’s using that thing at least three times a week and the change it’s made in our household has been wonderful. As soon as someone walks through our front door, he’s pulling it out and showing them all the parts and how they work.
Did I mention it’s a Kirby vacuum cleaner?
Yeah. Now our house is dusted and vacuumed to within an inch of its life. The ceiling fans have never been so clean and even our mattress has been given a once-over. The other day he had to whip it out to clean up the remains of a broken light bulb and used the opportunity to go over the rest of the carpet – at 10:30 at night!
I never knew anyone could be so excited about a household appliance, but there you have it. And evidently there’s an entire group of people out there who love and are dedicated to the apparently wondrous appeal of the Kirby. My daughter-in-law’s eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned his new toy and they talked model numbers and manufacturing years like two kids trading baseball cards for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I know it’s supposed to be a wonderful piece of equipment, self-propelled even, as Dalt has tried to show me several times. The only thing that baby won’t do is make dinner, I guess. But I’m immune to the fascination. My eyes glaze over and my brain switches off as soon as he pulls the stupid thing out.
But if it makes my man happy, far be it from me to deter his carpet cleaning, wood floor buffing, ceiling fan dusting joy.
Go to page 2 or click the link below for previous columns.
01-26-2010, 10:59 AM
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01-26-2010, 11:28 AM
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Gold MemberThread Starter
So, each morning I find myself going to the local website www.Montgomerycountynews.net Yesterday I went there hoping to see a nice write up on Jerry Davis. I did not find anything on him. I did find this stupid phucking article on the front page.
At least I don’t have to do it
By Cassie Litton-Gregory
January 24, 2010
There’s a certain wifely duty that I hate performing. I mean, sure, I did it a lot when we were dating, to impress my guy. But – to be perfectly honest – after we got married, I pretty much stopped doing it altogether.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me a few months ago when I found my husband at the computer, completely absorbed, watching this particular act being demonstrated online. He called it research, but it was more like obsession. I don’t know how long he’d been looking, but I guess it was kind of my fault for not being more… into it. So I let him look all he wanted. And he did. He looked as soon as he got home, after dinner, and even before bed. I thought it would never end.
Then one day, it happened. He had a credit card out, ready to make a bid. I figured what the heck? We might as well make it his Christmas present. And besides, it would save me once less guilt trip about not doing it myself.
Well, it turns out that was the best purchase we ever made. He’s using that thing at least three times a week and the change it’s made in our household has been wonderful. As soon as someone walks through our front door, he’s pulling it out and showing them all the parts and how they work.
Did I mention it’s a Kirby vacuum cleaner?
Yeah. Now our house is dusted and vacuumed to within an inch of its life. The ceiling fans have never been so clean and even our mattress has been given a once-over. The other day he had to whip it out to clean up the remains of a broken light bulb and used the opportunity to go over the rest of the carpet – at 10:30 at night!
I never knew anyone could be so excited about a household appliance, but there you have it. And evidently there’s an entire group of people out there who love and are dedicated to the apparently wondrous appeal of the Kirby. My daughter-in-law’s eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned his new toy and they talked model numbers and manufacturing years like two kids trading baseball cards for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I know it’s supposed to be a wonderful piece of equipment, self-propelled even, as Dalt has tried to show me several times. The only thing that baby won’t do is make dinner, I guess. But I’m immune to the fascination. My eyes glaze over and my brain switches off as soon as he pulls the stupid thing out.
But if it makes my man happy, far be it from me to deter his carpet cleaning, wood floor buffing, ceiling fan dusting joy.
Go to page 2 or click the link below for previous columns.
At least I don’t have to do it
By Cassie Litton-Gregory
January 24, 2010
There’s a certain wifely duty that I hate performing. I mean, sure, I did it a lot when we were dating, to impress my guy. But – to be perfectly honest – after we got married, I pretty much stopped doing it altogether.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me a few months ago when I found my husband at the computer, completely absorbed, watching this particular act being demonstrated online. He called it research, but it was more like obsession. I don’t know how long he’d been looking, but I guess it was kind of my fault for not being more… into it. So I let him look all he wanted. And he did. He looked as soon as he got home, after dinner, and even before bed. I thought it would never end.
Then one day, it happened. He had a credit card out, ready to make a bid. I figured what the heck? We might as well make it his Christmas present. And besides, it would save me once less guilt trip about not doing it myself.
Well, it turns out that was the best purchase we ever made. He’s using that thing at least three times a week and the change it’s made in our household has been wonderful. As soon as someone walks through our front door, he’s pulling it out and showing them all the parts and how they work.
Did I mention it’s a Kirby vacuum cleaner?
Yeah. Now our house is dusted and vacuumed to within an inch of its life. The ceiling fans have never been so clean and even our mattress has been given a once-over. The other day he had to whip it out to clean up the remains of a broken light bulb and used the opportunity to go over the rest of the carpet – at 10:30 at night!
I never knew anyone could be so excited about a household appliance, but there you have it. And evidently there’s an entire group of people out there who love and are dedicated to the apparently wondrous appeal of the Kirby. My daughter-in-law’s eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned his new toy and they talked model numbers and manufacturing years like two kids trading baseball cards for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I know it’s supposed to be a wonderful piece of equipment, self-propelled even, as Dalt has tried to show me several times. The only thing that baby won’t do is make dinner, I guess. But I’m immune to the fascination. My eyes glaze over and my brain switches off as soon as he pulls the stupid thing out.
But if it makes my man happy, far be it from me to deter his carpet cleaning, wood floor buffing, ceiling fan dusting joy.
Go to page 2 or click the link below for previous columns.
