Good Morning Campers!
School has been delayed this morning which means that I have to get to work early (I know, that doesn’t make any sense at all) so that I can take the time off later to come back and put Izzy Dragon on the school bus.  I’ll be so glad when she gets old enough to fly to school on her own.
Anyway, let’s just all lean back and laugh with our dear friend Lethal Leprechaun as we start our Tuesday with a cup of coffee and Dragon Laffs!
Cheers,
Impish Dragon

One morning, a grandmother was surprised to find that her 7-year-old grandson had made her coffee! Smiling, she choked down the worst cup of her life. When she finished, she found three little green Army men at the bottom. Puzzled, she asked, “Honey, what are these Army men doing in my coffee?” Her grandson answered, “Like it says on TV, Grandma. ‘The best part of waking up is soldiers in your cup.’

I met someone in the elevator who was drinking coffee and complaining about how coffee made him nervous. I said “Why don’t you quit drinking coffee?” He said “Because if I didn’t have the shakes, I wouldn’t get any exercise at all.”

You Know You’re Drinking Too Much Coffee When . . .

You answer the door before people knock.
Juan Valdez named his donkey after you.
You ski uphill.
You get a speeding ticket even when you’re parked.
You speed walk in your sleep.
You have a bumper sticker that says: “Coffee drinkers are good in the sack.”
You haven’t blinked since the last lunar eclipse.
You just completed another sweater and you don’t know how to knit.
You grind your coffee beans in your mouth.
You sleep with your eyes open.
You have to watch videos in fast-forward.
The only time you’re standing still is during an earthquake.
You can take a picture of yourself from ten feet away without using the timer.
You lick your coffeepot clean.
You spend every vacation visiting “Maxwell House.”
You’re the employee of the month at the local coffeehouse and you don’t even work there.
You’ve worn out your third pair of tennis shoes this week.
Your eyes stay open when you sneeze.
You chew on other people’s fingernails.
The nurse needs a scientific calculator to take your pulse.
Your T-shirt says, “Decaffeinated coffee is the devil’s blend.”
You’re so jittery that people use your hands to blend their margaritas.
You can type sixty words per minute … with your feet.
You can jump-start your car without cables.
Cocaine is a downer.
All your kids are named “Joe”.
You don’t need a hammer to pound nails.
Your only source of nutrition comes from “Sweet & Low.”
You don’t sweat, you percolate.
You buy 1/2 & 1/2 by the barrel.
You’ve worn out the handle on your favorite mug.
You go to AA meetings just for the free coffee.
You walk twenty miles on your treadmill before you realize it’s not plugged in.
You forget to unwrap candy bars before eating them.
Charles Manson thinks you need to calm down.
You’ve built a miniature city out of little plastic stirrers.
People get dizzy just watching you.
You’ve worn the finish off your coffee table.
The Taster’s Choice couple wants to adopt you.
Starbucks owns the mortgage on your house.
Your taste buds are so numb you could drink your lava lamp.
You’re so wired, you pick up AM radio.
People can test their batteries in your ears.
Your life’s goal is to amount to a hill of beans.
Instant coffee takes too long.
You channel surf faster without a remote.
When someone says. “How are you?”, you say, “Good to the last drop.”
You want to be cremated just so you can spend the rest of eternity in a coffee can.
You want to come back as a coffee mug in your next life.
Your birthday is a national holiday in Brazil.
You’d be willing to spend time in a Turkish prison.
You go to sleep just so you can wake up and smell the coffee.
You’re offended when people use the word “brew” to mean beer.
You name your cats “Cream” and “Sugar.”
You get drunk just so you can sober up.
You speak perfect Arabic without ever taking a lesson.
Your Thermos is on wheels.
Your lips are permanently stuck in the sipping position.
You have a picture of your coffee mug on your coffee mug.
You can outlast the Energizer bunny.
You short out motion detectors.
You have a conniption over spilled milk.
You don’t even wait for the water to boil anymore.
Your nervous twitch registers on the Richter scale.
You think being called a “drip” is a compliment.
You don’t tan, you roast.
You don’t get mad, you get steamed.
Your three favorite things in life are…coffee before, coffee during and coffee after.
Your lover uses soft lights, romantic music, and a glass of iced coffee to get you in the mood.
You can’t even remember your second cup.
You help your dog chase its tail.
You soak your dentures in coffee overnight.
Your coffee mug is insured by Lloyds of London.
You introduce your spouse as your coffeemate.
You think CPR stands for “Coffee Provides Resuscitation.”
Your first-aid kit contains two pints of coffee with an I.V. hookup.

Scroll down to see the Boogie Man’s penis!

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

V

You perverts ! There is no Boogie Man. You just all wanted to see a penis…

How to Avoid Road Rage on the Highway

A young ventriloquist is touring the clubs, and one night he’s doing a show in a small town in Arizona . With his dummy on his knee, he starts going through his usual dumb blonde jokes. Suddenly a blonde woman in the 4th row stands on her chair and starts shouting:
“I’ve heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes. What makes you think you can stereotype women that way? What does the color of a person’s hair have to do with her
worth as a human being? It’s guys like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community, and from reaching our full potential as a person because
you and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes, but women in general…and all in the name of humor!”
The embarrassed ventriloquist begins to apologize, and the blonde yells, “You stay out of this, mister! I’m talking to that little guy on your knee.”

Sure seems like everyone wants their fifteen minutes of groan fame. Here’s one from Bob in Australia:

The world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make is taking a stroll down his local town.  As he passes by the record shop, a sign catches his eye:  “Just Released — New LP — Wasps of the World and the sounds that they make — available now!”  Unable to resist the temptation, the man goes into the shop.
“I am the world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make.  I’d very much like to listen to the new LP you have advertised in the window.”
“Certainly, sir,” says the young man behind the counter.  “If you’d like to step into the booth and put on the headphones, I’ll put the LP on for you.”
The world expert on European wasps goes into the booth and puts on the earphones.  Three minutes later, he comes out of the booth and announces, “I am the world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make, and yet I recognized none of those.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” says the young assistant.  “If you’d care to step into the booth again, I can play you another track.”
The world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make steps back into the booth and replaces the headphones.
Three minutes later, he comes out of the booth shaking his head.  “I don’t understand it,” he says, “I am the world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make, and yet I still can’t recognize any of those!”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” says the young man, “perhaps if you’d like to step into the booth again, you could hear another track.”
Sighing, the world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make steps back into the booth.  Five minutes later, he comes out again, clearly agitated.  “I am the world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make, and yet I have recognized none of the wasps on this LP.”
“I really am terribly sorry,” says the young assistant, “I’ve just realized I was playing you the bee side.” —

Ever had one of those day when you are just fed up with getting your ass harassed by your personal dragon? Your personal dragon could be your wife your boss a co-worker, or like me, some weird dude with a blog that THINKS he’s really a dragon. Point is its someone with whom you are forced to do battle on a daily basis for any of a myriad of reasons but  rarely are successful in slaying?

Here’s a little time wasting frustration reliever that’s loads of fun and not too hard. Best of all your progress is savable so when your real life dragon reappears in your personal space for round 473, 281 you won’t lose your progress.

Just click the picture, slurp your coffee and shoot your way to dominance and your well deserved fear and respect.

(Unfortunately no real dragons where hurt, shot, injured, wounded embarrassed,frightened, inconvenienced or vanquished in the making of this game)

Today’s Last Word comes from active contributor Graciemj

ARIZONA RANCHER DEFENDING HIS PROPERTY ORDERED TO PAY $87,000 TO ILLEGAL ALIENS

John G. Winder, The Cypress Times Published 02/09/2011 – 1:27 p.m. CST

Okay, it’s official…NOW I’ve heard it all… and been disgusted by it!

The U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals has upheld a lower court verdict ordering U.S. citizen and Arizona rancher (property owner) to pay damages of $87,000 for holding a group of illegal aliens at gunpoint back in 2004.  On his own property.  In defense of his own home.

Picture this. You own your own place. Worked hard to get it, but you did it. You’re a rancher in Arizona, or Texas, or New Mexico or any place in the good ol’ USA and then people start coming onto your property without your permission.  We used to call that trespassing.  We used to consider it a big deal.  Like the sovereignty of our nation.

These people come onto your property at a growing rate.  More and more of them day in and day out invade your property.  Then they start vandalizing your property.  They break into your home.  They steal.  They kill your livestock.  You ask authorities for help.  They don’t.

So you start rounding these people up at gunpoint and holding them until law enforcement can arrive. You turn them over to the law.

We used to call that good citizenship.

For 10-years you wage a campaign to turn an ever-growing tide of these same people – which some call undocumented migrants – from traipsing all over your property, killing your livestock, stealing your truck and breaking and entering your home.

Then one day you round up 16 of these “migrants.” You hold them at gunpoint. You have your dog with you and tell these 16 people that if they try to escape, you’ll turn the dog loose on them or shoot them.

We used to call people like this heroes!

Read the rest here: