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The Water Cooler
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<blockquote data-quote="RidgeHunter" data-source="post: 2032262" data-attributes="member: 4319"><p>I also am capable of stereotypical suburban feats of masculinity. Occasionally, when it snows, I take charge and load the wife and 2.3 kids in the Buick and we set off for her mother's house. The children have no fear because I regale them with tales of my childhood, when my father first taught me to lower the tire pressure a bit, and the Old Johnson Family Floor Mat trick to get unstuck. Not that I've ever been stuck. Before the wife even has a chance to get nervous and start to bitchin', there we are at that old bag's house for a burnt dinner. Monday morning it's back to the grind - back to the florescent lighting and cheap starched shirt. I'll duck out to the water cooler and tell the boys about my weekend, and maybe after work we'll grab a beer down the street and I'll tell them about the time back in high school I raced Jimmy McPherson's Chevelle Super Bird Race Car in my dad's stationwagon. That son of a ***** McPherson said his speedo was pegged when he lost sight of my taillights out there on by exit 142. Then I'll throw in the kicker - dad's stationwagon had a Special Piston Kit installed at the factory because the guy who managed the dealership was my dad's fraternity brother. Hahahahahahaha. ****. Damn. You bastards. ESPN. Brown liquor. Light beer. Propane grills. My wife won't blow me anymore. And she's a lousy cook. Football. Hahahahahaha. Later Bill. Don't work too hard. I best get home or I'll never hear the end of it. Hahaha. You too man. You too.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RidgeHunter, post: 2032262, member: 4319"] I also am capable of stereotypical suburban feats of masculinity. Occasionally, when it snows, I take charge and load the wife and 2.3 kids in the Buick and we set off for her mother's house. The children have no fear because I regale them with tales of my childhood, when my father first taught me to lower the tire pressure a bit, and the Old Johnson Family Floor Mat trick to get unstuck. Not that I've ever been stuck. Before the wife even has a chance to get nervous and start to bitchin', there we are at that old bag's house for a burnt dinner. Monday morning it's back to the grind - back to the florescent lighting and cheap starched shirt. I'll duck out to the water cooler and tell the boys about my weekend, and maybe after work we'll grab a beer down the street and I'll tell them about the time back in high school I raced Jimmy McPherson's Chevelle Super Bird Race Car in my dad's stationwagon. That son of a ***** McPherson said his speedo was pegged when he lost sight of my taillights out there on by exit 142. Then I'll throw in the kicker - dad's stationwagon had a Special Piston Kit installed at the factory because the guy who managed the dealership was my dad's fraternity brother. Hahahahahahaha. ****. Damn. You bastards. ESPN. Brown liquor. Light beer. Propane grills. My wife won't blow me anymore. And she's a lousy cook. Football. Hahahahahaha. Later Bill. Don't work too hard. I best get home or I'll never hear the end of it. Hahaha. You too man. You too. [/QUOTE]
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