This is my daughter, Dr. Amber, holding one of her broken dogs. This little guy was running down the road when Amber saw him. As usual, she stops of any loose dogs and checks for id. This one not only had no id, but his jaw is broken.
He cannot close it and Amber has to feed it soft food so he can lick it up. He is so sweet, but they are having a hard time saving him. He is old, has bad teeth that has the bone infected and they don't know how long the jaw has been like this. She and another vet are trying to clear up the infection so they can build a muzzle type brace for his jaw - tight enough to hold it, but loose enough so he can eat and drink.
This is the type of stuff she does. She has no office to practice, though she does have an operating room in an industrial building. She goes all over North Georgia doing low cost spay and neutering for the county shelters.
When she goes into a shelter, she goes to the death room and chooses dogs that are adoptable, fixes them and sends them to NY on my dog trips.
She runs a nonprofit organization and can use donations. If you have the urge, go to leftoverpets.org and give a little love (the dollar kind - she gets the emotional kind from me, Judy and her boyfriend, Bob).
Thanks, and keep your fingers crossed for the old guy.
I was walking in the park the other day and saw these three mischievous old Grandmas sitting on a bench. As I walked by one of the old gals yelled out saying, 'John, we bet we can tell exactly how old you are.'
I snorted and said, 'There is no way you can guess it, you old fools.'
One of the old ladies said, 'Sure we can! Just drop your pants and under shorts and we can tell your exact age.'
Embarrassed just a little, but anxious to prove they couldn't do it, I dropped my pants and drawers (extremely glad I had no ‘hash marks’ to exhibit.)
The old hags asked me to first turn around a couple of times and to jump up and down several times. Then they all piped up and said, 'You're 65 years old!'
Standing there with my pants down around my ankles (enjoying the breeze), I was dumbfound and asked, 'How in the world did you ever guess?'
Slapping their knees and grinning from ear to ear, the three old ladies yelled in unison, 'We were at your birthday party yesterday!'
I had the last laugh, though. My birthday party was last week.
Sorry, no postings lately. I’m fighting some Bronchitis and my head feels like it is in a clamp. Coughing, and sniffing and aching. So I have been in the bed most of the day and have a trip planned back to NY, Carmel this time, tomorrow. So I am drugging it up and sleeping as much as I can.
Back in February my sister passed out from low sugar and somehow cut a gash in her leg (probably on a bed spring or corner. It was about three inches long and all the way to the bone. ER tried to sew it up but couldn’t, so she was transferred to the Wound Center at Wellstar Kennestone Hospital. They do not sew up wounds there, but they do medicate and wrap the leg and clean it out every week. So my brother, Sister Stephen, and I take her every week to get it worked on. It now looks like a 38 bullet hole and is getting better. She had to go today.
But because I am sick, Stephen had to take her by himself. Mary is 78 and has to use a walker, and if she moves too fast she gets dizzy. Well, they were working their way out the door to the garage, Stephen had set the lock and had turned to put her pocketbook on the top of the car. Mary fell, hit the door on the way down and it slammed on her little finger. The finger is not only broken, but the meat was pulled off the bone.
Stephen could hear her saying “Open the door, I fell.” but didn’t know she was hurt until he got back in the house. He had to lean into the door to slid her along the floor so he could get in. He called me because I seem to be the only one who can talk to her when she is in a mood. She knows I won’t take any of her shit. Anyway, she refused to go to the emergency room, only to the wound center. I told her that her time slot had already been filled (lie but who cares) and that Kim (the RN who works on her) said she couldn’t do anything until she got her finger fixed.
Mary was afraid to go to the hospital because she thought they would keep her. So I told Stephen, over the phone, to take her to an area emergency clinic about three miles away. She threw a shit fit (all this time sitting in the floor) that she would ONLY go to the emergency room. Stephen and I started laughing at her and then she started laughing.
She was still in the floor because Stephen has Parkinson’s and no strength to lift her off the floor, and we were afraid for me to be around her as she is so susceptible to getting what ever you have. And that is all she needs now.
So Stephen called her son, David, who still lives with her. He came from work, got her up and into the car and took her to the ER. She refused to let us call 911 for an ambulance.
She is a joy. Anyone want her? Cheap! I’m thinking Craig’s List.
(The box aound his neck says, "Now take a left at the end of the hall...) The Caption says, "ONSTAR for the Senile"
Has senility arrived? Am I ready for it? I don’t know. I hope not, and I will fight it…oh, pretty flowers…huh? Oh, yeah! I’ll fight it to the end - if I can remember to fight.
Let me explain.
It was real cool today and when I went to the Waffle House for my coffee and what ever eats I felt like having, so I put the heater on and pushed the button that circulates the air inside the car (cools off faster in A/C and heats up faster by re-heating the same air.)
I also have a cold with a spot in the middle of my sternum the size of a baseball that explodes every time I cough. So I stopped at the CVS and got some cough suppressant and a tube of super glue to fix this thing that needed fixing.
I got home about 1:30, brought everything in, but said a few words to the neighbor lady walking her dog first.
My step-son, Steven, came home for his lunch break around 5:30, called me on the cell phone to see if I was going somewhere because he was parking behind me. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere for about an hour but would be leaving around 6:00 or so.
So he said, “Why is your truck running?”
“Your truck is running.”
I laughed and told him I must have forgotten to turn it off when I got home some 4 fucking hours ago??!!??! “Well, will you turn it off?”
He chuckled and said, “Sure…OMG it has to be 200 derees in here. Your heater is going full blast. It even too hot to touch the keys.” He turned it off and jerked the keys out and dropped them on the seat.
At least I think that is how it went. Maybe it was a dream from my nap. No…I didn’t have a nap - that I know of.
This sux. I’m not ready for this shit. I have to go to NY this Thursday and to St. Louis for a blogger meet-up next week. Or did I dream that, too?
Does anyone out there know for sure? I would appreciate it if you would let me know. I’ll try to remember this so I’ll know what you are talking about.
Two redneck guys go on a fishing trip. They rent all the equipment: the reels, the rods, the wading suits, the rowboat, the car, and even a cabin in the woods.
They spend a fortune.
The first day they go fishing, but they don’t catch anything.
The same thing happens on the second day, and on the third day.
It goes on like this until finally, on the last day of their vacation, one of the men catches a fish.
As they’re driving home they’re really depressed. One guy turns to the other and says, “Clete, do you realize that this one lousy fish we caught cost us fifteen hundred dollars?”
Astonished, Clete says, “Wow! It’s a good thing we didn’t catch any more!” *****
“Hello, is this the FBI?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“I’m calling to report about my neighbor Billy Bob Smith! He is hiding marijuana inside his firewood.”
“Thank you very much for the call, sir.”
The next day, the FBI agents descend on Billy Bob’s house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood, but find no marijuana. They swore at Billy Bob and left. The phone rings at Billy Bob’s house.
“Hey Billy Bob! Did the FBI come?”
“Did they chop your firewood?”
“Happy Birthday Buddy” *****
A Redneck buys a ticket and wins the lottery. He goes to Jackson to claim it and the man verifies his ticket number.
The Redneck says, “I want my $20 million.”
The man replied, “No, sir. It doesn’t work that way. We give you a million today and then you’ll get the rest spread out for the next 19 years.”
The Redneck said, “Oh, no. I want all my money right now! I won it and I want it.”
Again, the man explains that he would only get a million that day and the rest during the next 19 years.
The Redneck, furious with the man, screams out, “Look, I want my money! If you’re not going to give me my $20 million right now, then I want my dollar back!” *****
A visiting professor at Texas A & M University is giving a seminar on the supernatural. To get a feel for his audience, he asks: "How many people here believe in ghosts?" About 90 students raise their hands.
"Well that's a good start. Out of those of you who believe in ghosts, do any of you think you've ever seen a ghost?" About 40 students raise their hands.
"That's really good. I'm really glad you take this seriously. Has anyone here ever talked to a ghost?" 15 students raise their hands.
"That's a great response. Has anyone here ever touched a ghost?" Three students raise their hands.
"That's fantastic. But let me ask you one question further.....Have any of you ever made love to a ghost?"
One student in the back raises his hand. The professor is astonished. He takes off his glasses, takes a step back, and says, "Son, all the years I've been giving this lecture, no one has ever claimed to have slept with a ghost. You've got to come up here and tell us about your experience."
The redneck student replies with a nod and a grin, and begins to make his way up to the podium.
The professor says, "Well, tell us what it's like to have sex with a ghost."
The student replies, "Ghost? Damn..... From back there I thought you said 'goats'!" . .
1. If I Can't Be Number One In Your Life, Then Number Two On You 2. If The Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me 3. I Can’t I Miss You Until You‘re Gone! 4. I Liked You Better Before I Got to Know You So Well 5. I Still Miss You Baby, But My Aim's Gettin' Better 6. I Wouldn't Take Her To A Dog Fight 'Cause I'm Afraid She'd Win 7. I'll Marry You Tomorrow But Let's Honeymoon Tonight 8. I'm So Miserable Without You It's Like Having You Here 9. If I Had Shot You When I Wanted To I'd Be Out Of Prison By Now 10. My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend And I Sure Do Miss Him 11. She Got The Ring And I Got The Finger 12. You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly 13. Her Teeth Was Stained But Her Heart Was Pure 14. She's Looking Better After Every Beer 15. I Haven't Gone To Bed With Any Ugly Women, but I've Sure Woke Up With A Few.
A Redneck Honeymoon
A hillbilly man and his new teen bride were on their honeymoon. The husband jumps into bed to wait for his wife to get herself ready.
The wife comes out of the bathroom in a sexy negligee and says "Honey, I gotta ask you sumthin'. Be gentle with me 'cause I'm a virgin."
The man cusses, grabs his clothes and rushes out of the house yelling at the top of his lungs. He heads straight to his fathers house.
When he gets there, his father says, "Son, what in tarnation're you doin' here, dang it? You're supposed ta be on your honeymoon with your new gal bride."
The son says, "Pa, she told me a big secret of hers. She's a virgin, durn it!"
"Damn, son. You did the right thing by leaving. If she ain't good enough for her own family, she sure as hell ain't good enough for ours!"
As some of you know, this week is Spring Break in my area and I have the grandkids for the week. The post below is about our trip to Stone Mountain Park (and a memory from the past.) That was on Wednesday.
On Thursday afternoon we chose sides and went on a scavenger hunt around the county. Judy and Bug were one team and me and J-Man the other. There was a list of 50 items and we had an hour and a half to get as many items as possible. Some were odd: safety tape, orange traffic cone, a worm, and road kill. Around 25 to 27 items were found; my road kill was a flat, hard worm on the side of the road. Judy and Bug, on the other hand, didn’t quiet get theirs.
She found a dead opossum on the road and stopped to pick it up. We had plastic bags to put our bounty (or booty) in, so she broke out one to scoop up the unfortunate critter. But how to do it? She found a stick to poke it to make sure it was dead, but when she got to it, there was no doubt. So she rolled it over to loosen it from the grass.
Evidently Judy hasn’t been around dead things much. The thing was bloated and full of gas, and when she rolled it over, it exploded. Nothing got on her, but the smell was terrible, as any of you know who have ever had to deal with dead animals. But Judy is a single minded woman when it comes to any given task and she still tried to get the damn thing in the bag…gagging and trying not to upchuck the whole time. Bug was in the car laughing at her, but wouldn’t get out and help. She's not as dedicated to task completion as Judy. And Judy was going to put it into the trunk and bring it home an hour or so later. My God! We would never have gotten rid of the smell if she had. Fortunately, she couldn’t stand the smell any longer and left it on the side of the road.
At the end, Judy and Bug won by two points (they cheated and bought two things at the store.) It seems that there was no rule saying we couldn’t buy stuff, and I tried to play by the spirit of the game. Silly me and J-Man (who suggested we buy a few things with we were at the store getting some moldy food.)
The winner got to choose the restaurant and Bug chose a Mexican restaurant. J-Man and me got the last laugh because the food was horrible and the serve even worse. Teach them to cheat.
Friday the four of us went to Six Flags. Peeps, I have never been so flung, jostled, twirled, bounded, turned and shook so much since I had a date with the lady wrestler a few years back.
But we were so busy walking, laughing and having so much fun riding the rides that this is the only picture made the whole day. The best buy we made all day was the Flash Pass’s where we didn’t have to stand in line for an hour or more to ride any of the attractions. We were able to get through all the rides in 5 hours - quiet a feat. But the first ride almost did me in. It was the Cyclone, the original roller coaster when the park opened back in the 60’s. The car is wooden and my bare knees (I had on shorts) were against the front. It was the roughest riding thing I can ever remember riding and my knees were scraped raw by the end.
And finally, tonight we saw “How To Train Your Dragon” in 3-D I-Max. Surprisingly it is a great movie. I recommend it highly. And the popcorn was good, too.
Yesterday J-Man, Bug and I spent the day at Stone Mountain Park.
We went there about a month ago and it was freezing.
Yesterday it was in the 80’s and beautiful except for a slight haze on the horizon. A stranger took this picture of the three of us on top of the big rock.
How big, you ask. Only one percent is showing above ground. It goes 10 miles straight down and has outshoot’s of garnet as far out as 50 miles. The mountain is five miles around the base with a train ride enjoy the whole thing.
The building behind Bug and J-Man is the Stone Mountain Inn. This is were I spent my honeymoon. We had the run of the park and the motel had an indoor and an outdoor pool.
On our 10th anniversary we went back to the motel. It was a surprise and she really like the idea. I’m such a romantic.
I was even able to get the same room we had on our honeymoon. Except this time the quarter meter for the bed vibrator was gone. I had to pull the bed away from the wall and unplug the damn thing the first night we were there.
Anyvibes, the night was pretty much set. She even kept the nightgown from the honeymoon and had it on when she came out of the bathroom. It still fit her and she was just as beautiful.
She slowly crossed the room and kissed me gently and asked, “Are we going to do the same things we did on our night 10 years ago?”
I said, “No! It’s my time to sit on the edge of the bed and cry, ‘It’s Too Big, too big.’”
**UPDATE: Guys, Please go over and vote for Mike. He is rocking back and forth for 1st place and can really use your help - Please** (It's hard on a 1st Sgt (who is reading Physics) to accept that he is at the beck and call of his master - his canine friend)
Peeps, I need your help and support for a true Marine.
Sgt 1st Class Michael Burk (know as America's 1st Sgt to the blog world,) over on my sidebar as Castra Praetoria (Roman Guards of the Castle), is in the running for a milblog award in the Marine branch of voting.
Milbloggers awards was launched in 2005 to recognize military, family and friend blogs for their contribution to blogging, news and information, and to the military over the past year.
So go to Castra Praetoria and read some funny, informative and insightful posting from a true Marine and lover of freedom, family and the Corps.
Then go to Milblogging Voting site to register and vote. It is a quick registration-- just think up a user name and a password.
The link goes to your email which you hit to go back to the milblogging.com page. This will either take you to the voting page or if you go to the main page, on the upper right hand corner of the main page title bar it will say Milbloggies. Hit that link, hit Marine Corps, hit Castra Praetoria.
It cost you nothing and will help put a great guy over the top. And you know how Marines love to win.
I got this from a friend and thought is was interesting. Just another question to the many already asked and researched. But I wonder if the truth will ever be known and if they will be able to get any DNA and track it into day?
In 1988, researchers tested the famous “Shroud of Turin” by snipping a tiny piece from the edge of the cloth and subjecting it to a radiocarbon dating process. The cloth was conclusively dated as no earlier than the 12th century and no later than the 14th – and that, seemingly, was that.
The Shroud of Turin is a centuries-old piece of cloth that appears to bear the image of a crucified man in his early thirties. It has been revered as the burial shroud of Christ by the Catholic Church for centuries.
I admit that fact alone increased my level of skepticism to the point that I instantly accepted the radiocarbon dating results and put it out of my mind. I assumed the Shroud was just another of the thousands of Vatican ‘relics’ imbued with magical powers, like the piece of the One True Cross and the Crown of Thorns at the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.
The History Channel just ran a special about the Shroud of Turin that has rekindled the debate about the Shroud. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen it, since it hasn’t been broadcast in my area, but the buzz about the program piqued my interest.
The more I looked into the new evidence now available, the less skeptical I’ve become about the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin.
As it happens, new evidence proves that the carbon dating method was defective; the portion that was dated was along the edges. There are numerous paintings from medieval times of the Shroud being displayed by its custodians. Every single painting shows the Shroud being held at the same place along the edge. The material chosen for the 1988 test was taken from exactly that place where it had been reinforced in medieval times for such displays. That the samples were non-representative, and from a medieval reinforced section of the edge has since been conclusively established and peer-reviewed.
The actual fibers of the shroud itself are not medieval cotton, but linen fibers characteristic of 1st century Israel. The threads are made from flax fibers that are but one-fifth the thickness of human hair. They were spun together by hand. These fibers somehow reacted chemically, creating a photo-negative image not visible until the Shroud was first photographed in 1898. The image could not have been forged, certainly not 700 years before photography and photo negatives were invented. Even assuming the possibility of a 12 century forgery, several problems remain unresolved.
First, how was it done? Second, why can’t it be reproduced in the 21st century? (It can’t) Third, why, even if it were possible, would someone in the 12th to 14th century paint a photo-negative image when a positive image would be more convincing to the naked eye?
Finally, since it is the only example of its kind in history, we have to assume some genius of antiquity invented a new way to create pictures, created exactly one, and then the technology vanished from history. Those are a lot of problems to overcome in order to argue the Shroud is a forgery.
The Turin Shroud was examined with visible and ultraviolet spectrometry, infrared spectrometry, x-ray fluorescence spectrometry, thermography, pyrolysis-mass-spectrometry, lasermicroprobe Raman analyses, and microchemical testing.
No evidence for pigments (paint, dye or stains) or artist's media was found anywhere on the Shroud.
Additional analysis of samples showed the bloodstains tested positive for 13 different blood components and human DNA. One of the blood chemists on the team, Dr Alan Adler, wrote of his findings: “The blood marks seen on the Shroud are consistent with a contact transfer of the cloth of blood clot exudates that would have resulted from major wounds inflicted on a man who died upright as a result of crucifixion.”
If the Shroud is genuine, then our salvation was accomplished by the shedding of Type AB Positive blood on our behalf.
Assessment: To recap, the Shroud of Turin is 14 feet long. The image it shows is of a man with nail prints in his hands and feet, bloodstains and wounds to the head consistent with having worn a crown of thorns, and a wound in his side.
The scourge marks on the shoulders, back, and legs of the man of the Shroud match the flagrum (Roman whip) which has three leather thongs, each having two lead or bone pellets (plumbatae) on the end.
The lance wound in the right side matches the Roman Hasta (4cm x 1 cm spear wound). Iron nails (7" spikes) were used in the wrist area (versus the palms as commonly depicted in medieval art).
These marks, combined with the capping of thorns which is not found anywhere else in Crucifixion literature of ancient Roman (Tacitus, Suetonius, Pliny the Elder or Pliny the Younger) or Jewish historians (Flavius Joesphus, Philo of Alexandria) create a unique signature of the historical Jesus of Nazareth. According to the results of the STURP Project after having spent three full years analyzing the latest data: “There are no chemical or physical methods known which can account for the totality of the image, nor can any combination of physical, chemical, biological or medical circumstances explain the image adequately. . .” “. . . We can conclude for now that the Shroud image is of a real human form of a scourged, crucified man. It is not the product of an artist. The bloodstains are composed of hemoglobin and give a positive test for serum albumin.”
While the bloodstains soak through the cloth, the image itself is superficial – it is so thin it could be shaved off with a razor. It is no thicker than the wall of a soap bubble.
The image only appears on one side of the cloth, facing the body. And while the image is there, spectra-analysis shows there are no substances on the cloth to account for it.
Interestingly, the study also found that threads of the Shroud are saturated with pollen and plant material residue. Near the head of the image was a concentration of pollen from the plant Gundelia tournefortii, also known as the
Crown of Thorns. We saw this plant during our visit to Israel last year. The only place in the world where this plant grows is in an area within fifty miles of Jerusalem. Spices found on the shroud are also found only in Israel, including one that grows only in an area within six miles of Jerusalem.
Dr. Garza-Valdes discovered oak tubules (microscopic splinters) in the blood of the occipital area (back of the head) as well as natron salts consistent with crucifixion on a Cross of oak. Traces of aloe and myrrh have also been identified on the cloth.
Dr. Avinoam Danin, a Professor of Botany at Hebrew University in Jerusalem identified many of the flowers on the Shroud as being spring flowers, consistent with the Passover. “It appears that bunches or bouquets of flowers were once placed on the Shroud, leaving pollen grains and imprints of plants and flowers on the linen cloth. It provides important evidence regarding the origin of this cloth in the Holy Land, and indicates that the Man of the Shroud was entombed with flowers from the waist up to the head.”
Finally, the most important finding of all – the perfection of the image itself. The image was recorded in much the same way as a photograph – had the body been in contact with the cloth for a longer or shorter period of time then it actually was, the image would have either been over or under-exposed.
The debunking of the 1988 Carbon 14 dating was the final bit of evidence to the contrary – indeed, it was the ONLY significant contradictory evidence. And so, what then, is left to say? Is this the actual burial shroud of the Lord Jesus Christ? Is the image that of the Lord of Glory? Do we actually have a ‘photograph’ of our Lord? Can we actually type the Blood whereby we were justified? I believe that the answer to those questions is a definite "Yes!"
I am now convinced by the evidence that the Shroud must be genuine. If it is not, then it is the image of somebody else who was scourged by a Roman whip, nailed to a piece of oak with 7” Roman nails, pierced by a Roman spear and wore a crown of thorns made from a plant that grows only around Jerusalem.
That image was somehow miraculously and perfectly imprinted on the Shroud and then preserved for two thousand years -- for no good theological reason. An image that just happens to correspond in every possible detail with the Bible account of the Crucifixion.
I don't have enough faith in coincidences to buy into that argument. Jesus Christ was crucified in Jerusalem and then removed from the Cross and laid in a burial shroud. Three days later, the shroud was found neatly folded in the empty tomb.
How did the image get there? Jesus rose from the dead. The napkin that covered His face was folded neatly beside it.
That imagery is also consistent with the customs of the day. When the master finished eating, he would wad up his napkin and throw it on the plate, signifying he was finished and the table could be cleared.
If he were temporarily excusing himself before finishing, he would fold his napkin neatly beside his plate.
Below are a few pictures and stuff I have been sent over the past few months but had nothing to use them with. So I am posting them now - kinda like a spring cleaning. If you want any of them, plese feel free to take what ever you want.
Today is Friday. That is, IT’S RED FRIDAY! The day and the color set aside a couple of years ago to show your support for our men and women serving our country and for those in harms way doing tough stuff on our behalf. So stop what you’re doing and go put on something red (and if it’s a thong, ladies, send pics.)
Anyred, tomorrow I will be enjoying this beautiful weather cruising Wal Mart for some sexy ladies. Here I am in all my hawtness eye candy. For you ladies getting hot and turned on, I will be at the Woodstock store between 9:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. (or until the cops run me off.) So to be sure you get your fair chance at such awesomeness, you had better be there early.
Two post on April Fool’s day an neither are a joke.
Rep Hank Johnson (D - GA 4th District) is, I am ashamed to say, the latest joke from Georgia.
Hank replaced ‘the cutest communist’ ever and Jihad supporter, Cynthia McKinney from the 4th District in Georgia. You remember Cynthia…the bitch who slapped a Capital Security Guard for not letting her pass because she didn’t have her photo ID? Yep! He was a racist. Anyidiot, I am ashamed to say that Georgia has provided the nation with yet another asshats. We have supplied the country with three of the worst politicians ever to grace The Hill; Jimmy ‘Peanut’ Carter, Cynthia ‘Jihad’ McKinney and now Hank ‘The Island Tipper’ Thompson.
But I have to admire the US Naval Academy educated Admiral for keeping his professionalism. I would have said, “ARE YOU SHITTING ME, CONGRESSMAN? ARE YOU THAT DAMN STUPID?”
Back in the sixties and seventies I was a route-salesman (and eventually a supervisor) for the Atlanta Coca Cola Bottling Co. Over the years I had routes from rural small towns, mom and pop type places and businesses to working routes in downtown Atlanta. Cool job and cool people I worked with along the way.
I’ve had bottles explode on me in the hot summer heat and I have pulled glass out of my arm, hands and legs. Nothing serious, only a few stitches a couple of times. I have seen women giving men blow jobs while riding down I-85 and I-20. I have watched men masturbate from the cab of my truck. One time this guy pulled beside me and kept even with me while he beat off. Pissed me off, so when he started getting faster and short stroking it, I swerved my truck to the left and watched him cum and trying to drive across the grassy medium sideways. Probably the best orgasm he ever had. But I never received any Christmas Cards from him, so I don’t know for sure.
In running the routes, I made deliveries to grammar (or elementary) schools, high schools, Christian, Catholic and Jewish schools and private institutes. Sometimes I would set up the routes so that I could eat lunch in the cafeteria of the various schools. That was back in the day when they actually cooked and served hot, decent lunches for the kids. The teachers and guest (sometimes a parent or two would drop by for a teacher/parent lunch) ate the same food as the kids. Imagine that happening now days.
And sometimes nature would take it’s course and I would have to use the bathroom. If it urge came upon me at a high school, I could go to the boys room. But if I was at a grammar school I would look for a ‘Men’s Room’ because the toilets in the boys room was so small it was like a freefall setting down and I had to look between my knees. So a teachers break room was best.
This day I couldn’t find the men’s room, just a door that said ‘Teachers Only.’ So I went in and began my downloads. I don’t know why I didn’t lock the door. Don’t ask! Don’t know! But anyways, about a minute later this lady teacher came in. She didn’t notice me (though I would have thought the smell would have cause her to look or something - gag maybe) and started taking her blouse off. I had started to say something like, “I’m in here.” or “Excuse me!” or “Wanta wipe my ass for me?” or something, but when I looked thought the space between the door and the partition I saw that she was taking off her blouse. So I thought it better to be quiet and see what was going to happen.
She let her blouse hang from her waist and turned on the water and started to wash off her boobs and neck. I guess she had been outside for recess and was freshening up. Anynipple, she reached in her bra and adjusted her boobs, tugged on her bra to pull it down into place (I guess) and then grabbed her tits on the sides and pushed them up. Looked at them for a second and then put her blouse back on. Leaned over, wiped under her eye, turned and walked out of the room.
I then let out my breath (I had just realized I was holding it) and relaxed with my forearms on my knees. Suddenly I figured I had pushed my luck a bit too far so I loaded up and got the hell out of there. But I have to admit, Best Damn Shit I ever had.