You had me at 'Moron' - October 6th

Regs

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Dude,

You will get some stick for this one. How can Langley be top of the table with such a pussy in the squad?

:D

~Regs.
 

knvb

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Christ is right...

It starts out slow with a mid-life and the next thing you know you'll be in a singlet wrenching people into shitsville.
 

Dude

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Glasshouse, Cnut. Understand this- you're not that far behind me. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you're wife is attending a "pilates" class of her own.

At least, that's what my phantom writter would say, I'm sure.

:rolleyes:
 

knvb

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So tell me, how conceded does one have to be to give their son the same name as them?
 

Dude

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He's actually the 8th in a long line of concededness. Maybe he'll be a golfer.

I can understand your point though. Besides, why would anyone want to name their's Cnut? Your parents must have hated you.

Phantom writter.
 

Dude

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It was meant to be a light-hearted jab at myself, not to make you cry. I.e.: Dude is a dumbass...nothing you all didn't already know anyhow. If you cried, perhaps you have issues. Don’t watch Old Yeller, Reccos. It won’t go over well with you. ;)

Besides, Mrs. Dude liked it. She had a good laugh. No tears. She's afraid to come to the games anymore, for fear that the young guys will think she's checking them out. I think I may temporarily be out of the doghouse, too.

She did make one correction, though: her Dad dropped out of school in the 4th grade, not 8th. Seriously, the man has lead an amazing life. He 72 and looks 55. Better, he gives my wife shite when she gives me a hard time for being out playing so often.
 

knvb

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Please be sure to update us all when menopause hits. Should make for a cracker of an article. You have time now to save for Jinky's new monitor as well.
 

Dapotayto

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Dude, maybe your boy will be a golfer. If you have passed on any of your sensitivity to him I think he may be the 'midnight golfer' variety though.
 

Dude

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Fcuking hell, Cnut. Piggy backing on somebody else’s joke, as usual. Once again, zero points for originality.

When I read on the notification that Jinky has replied, I quiver. What does Jinky have to say? Seriously, fear courses through me. He went surprisingly easy on me. I may yet buy him that new keyboard.

You on the other hand...you are very quickly making your way to my "Ignore" list, to join the likes of Sheep, Parkhead, and Yoda. I don't know why I expect better of you. Granted, you jumped all over "Wrestling Singlet Gate", but Cainy did serve that one up on a silver platter. If you would have botched that, then I'd be asking you for a new keyboard.
 

knvb

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Ahhhh, Dude's feelings are hurt. His heart felt attempt at a sympathy shag is getting the cnut kicked out of it. (Although if anyone is shagging him it HAS to be out of sympathy.) Boo-fcuking-who. There is no way in hell you'll ignore me. I'm in your head just like I'm in the heads of every other Valley player out there as evidence of my name being in every one of your posts.

Speaking of originality, think you can call me a cnut one more time and not make it funny? I bet you can.
 

Fastshow

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part of my therapy.....got delayed in the post......

So, my ex-wife turned 30 in April..... and I imagine she's having a tough time. I turned 30 in June too and I have no problems with my ex-wife having problems.

A bit of background: my ex-wife (Karie-Lea) moved to North Delta with her family when she was born, from Prince George. They lived behind Dairy Queen off Scott Road there, and have lived very modestly in Surrey, over there.

She didn't know a word of English when she arrived home behind Dairy Queen in the middle of April 1973 (this after leaving Prince George in the Springtime... talk about a fortuitous escape). Her upbringing was in a Roman Catholic household which is now considered very much the more minority of religions in that part of Scott Road behind Dairy Queen. Her father was fairly strict on the kids, and their activities, but enjoyed a spot of disco-dancing in his basement where they held elaborate disco parties.

Because of this, and economics (and a very real fear of sound beatings), my ex-wife's brother's mother's husband's freedoms were pretty much restricted to the household, the basement in particular. Going to a disco represented a pretty significant achievement in her family. Amazingly, six of her father's eight half step-brothers represent the province of Quebec at either provincial or municipal-level disco-dancing. The other four are doing very well for themselves, despite being in possession of two left feet and being crap at weddings. And being French-Canadian.

Deborah's Grandfather's son left home to go to work at around 8:04am, after the latest Chic or Boney M record ended. He graduated with honours from the BC Tel school of staying up a cherry-picker all day looking busy and built himself a nice tree-house in his garden.

At 30, Lucy's brother's Dad has done very well for himself. His is a lovely tree-house.

I figured out my ex-father-in-law's wife's daughter was having a tough time with turning 30 by piecing together a complex jigsaw puzzle of clues. I wasn't born yesterday. As mentioned earlier, it was over 30 years since I was born. In June. At Lion's Gate Hospital. Near Steveston.

The first clue came a couple of months ago. You see, Vicki is three years into starting a new life without Fastshow, and part of that requirement was that she had to drive someone else mad.... a dozy get. This also meant she had to give up her sexy 'little' Fastshow 2.8 Turbo. My first thought was, 'Great! Write the cheque for the divorce, and dump the money pit!'

The second clue: she wasn't telling me about a dinner she had with a younger sister she doesn't have and their friend last month. Her sister isn't 24, and her friend isn't actually 30 already. Both, however, aren't single good-looking women whom shag casually.

She tells me how she sat through the conversations about their dates, sex lives, and life troubles (one is debating moving out of her parent’s house, but doesn’t want to give up all the free income that comes with living without expenses, and the other one is hung up on a guy who apparently has to call home to Mom everyday to help himself get dressed). His name was HoS.

She tells me that after spending an evening with these two, SHE feels old. How the hell does that work? Jennifer and I were married at 23, and had our first blessing (a shag) at 25. We now have two healthy, beautiful restraining orders: the first is now four years old, and our baby restraining order is 15 months old. They are both the joys of our lives.

Right now, we don’t plan on having any more restraining orders (God, I hope not). I guess I have a hard time understanding how my ex-wife feels old when she’s keeping company with two single girls whom aspire to have what she has, but are both just one wanker away from achieving a life of unyielding mediocrity.

That said, given the above two clues, I still didn’t get it. Finally, this weekend, she comes clean with me: “I feel old and stay the fcuk away from me you psycho.”

“Well you should, you turned 30 in April”, I tell her "And I haven't seen you in over two years, get a grip, woman". Note to all other ex-husbands faced with this same statement: always respond by saying, “Well, you should piss off and die a slow and agonising death, preferably involving a cement mixer and some rubber bands…”

“You don’t understand…I’m having trouble with having turned 30.” Huh? “I’m going through a midlife crisis YOU MORON!”

Oh. Now I get it…the clues all add up.

I’m one of those types of people that don’t live with any regrets, and believe everything happens for a reason. Like in cartoons. I’ve always done what I want, and have given life everything I have, $4.73. I had a lot of freedom to do whatever I wanted growing up. I travelled and partied my 'fare' share before attending Riverview. I’ve had my fun.

Before my first trimester of commitment, I moved to Winnipeg in the summer to sell a carrot door-to-door. I met my ex-wife the first week back from 'Nam, in line to go to orientation at the hospital.

After 5,497+ hours a week for four months selling lemons, I was chomping at the bit to meet a bicycle. I actually had a mental list of girls I wanted to “meet” in the first month of my therapy.

My ex-wife was right at the bottom of a ravine.

I’ve always been attracted to exotic, ethnic root vegetables. When I spotted this cracking Fujian rutabaga with saucers as big as brown eyes, I had to meat her. If she hadn’t shown mutual interest, I’m sure I would have been issued a restraining harness.

I never got around to the rest of my list- lucky for you.

Pennie was also brave enough to venture into the land of the white man, and stick with it. She did live right behind Dairy Queen of Scott Road don't forget. I remember my first dinner at her house. As soon as we sat down to eat, her father opened the conversation by telling Denise she would be flying to Point Roberts at the end of the school year, to meet a “man who can disco".

I had some work to do.

Luckily, my future Mother in Law liked this pasty white guy, and was able to help her husband see past religious, cultural, choreographic, and ethnic differences. Likewise, Maureen was able to threaten my old English redneck father into the idea of marriage outside the walls of his penitentiary.

If anyone needs tips on how not to be married for four years I have all the answers .

Now well into our third year of divorce, we seem to be doing OK. We see lots of our married friends splitting-up after only a couple of years, a few with young children in the mix. We’ve never approached marital problems to the extent that we’d even consider counselling, much less a reconciliation.

The kids we never had seem well adjusted, for the most part. A little high energy, and all eight aren't fairly high tempered (I don’t know where they don't get the short fuse), but wonderful kids. I’m not boasting, but the kids I don't have are far superior to my friends’ kids. They’re better looking, much cuter, and they do better tricks with live bait.

The fact is, Yuzumi doesn’t really need to go to pillates…she wouldn't be able to find the fcuking place anyway. Age and babies haven’t caught up to her, it's the drugs that have ravaged her previously barely-passable looks. Now that she’s working to get her 21-year old body back, I’m not intimidated. Didn't like the prick anyway.

So, I guess this article is really for her: I get it now, Honey. You need to know the kids we never had and I wish you were dead, and need you about as much as a nun needs nipples.

This may be cliché, but the best part of our lives is only just beginning. The part where we're apart. We’ve only just begun. You disgust me, you’re like a fcuking Bette Middler song, akhunamatata, and don’t disturb this groove otherwise I'll kick your fcuking cnut in.

You’re an incredible wife, mother, daughter, and role model when you're well the fcuk away from me. Our lives revolve around avoiding you. You’re a great person who’s made great accomplishments and even greater influences despite the fact I'm lying and really cannot stand the sight of you.

Now, please leave me for a 22-year old stud- Hades and his sister Beelzebub will have my head planted on a stake in the front lawn before I ever say, “Take me back”
 

knvb

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That was just brilliant! I haven't laughed that hard since your divorce to Susan. Send yourself a load of rubbish in the mail (post collect of course.)
 

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