Royal Flush

Can we please not get too ahead of ourselves with the whole auto-flushing toilets? I’m all for them but please leave the manual flush option. More and more I’m running into toilets, with no manual flush, that flush when they want to. The problem is when they want to is sometimes not when you want to and definitely not when the guy in the next stall over wants them to. We have to keep the courtesy flush in play, not only for thy neighbor but also for thyself. I know I don’t want sit over my toxic offerings. If we lose the courtesy flush then we have to answer all the intestinal questions/comments:

Are you Okay?
Did something die inside of you?
Maybe you should try fasting…indefinitely

I’m green with concern for the earth but we can find other ways to save water:

Cut the water off when you brush your teeth.
In the shower rinse, cut off water, lather, cut on water and rinse off
Fill your water balloons just half way

Whatever we do, let’s keep up the courtesy. Flush America.

Shot Gun Run

I recently saw a very scary billboard while driving in central Pennsylvania. There was a picture of a diamond necklace and the copy read “How much did his last shot gun cost?” His last shot gun?! How many guns does a person need? I guess this sign’s purpose is to encourage wives to make the case to their husbands’ that instead of buying that last shotgun he could have bought her jewelry. It’s also meant to guilt trip the men into buying the misses something purrty. Basically it poses the question is your wife more important than a gun. But didn’t these girls know what they were getting into.

HUSBAND: Baby you knew I was about my shotguns when I met you. We met in the shot gun Aisle!

I say we should put diamonds on the guns. Kill two birds with one shotgun. Put some bling on your bang! Buy your little Bonnie a cute handgun with a diamond studded handle. The note could read “ With Love…Clyde”

I would have stopped and taken a picture of this billboard but I couldn’t stop driving anywhere that question needs to be asked. I’ve seen too many late night movies where some city slicker makes a wrong turn and ends up squealing like a pig. And much to the Yankee’s chagrin, the local judge is also the cousin of the sheriff who is the brother of the guy who knocked him out and fondled his girlfriend. So I kept driving and set my cruise control right at the speed limit. I didn’t want to speed and have to meet the sheriff who’s kin to the judge…