On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things .

On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candle-light, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of spring-water .

When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow of the curtain rods.

She then cleaned up the kitchen and left. When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days.

Then slowly, the house began to smell.

They tried everything; cleaning, mopping and airing the place out.

Vents were checked for dead rodents and carpets were steam cleaned.

Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.

Nothing worked!!!

People stopped coming over to visit.

Repairmen refused to work in the house.

The maid quit.

Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.

A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, t hey could notfind a buyer for their stinky house.

Word got out and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.

Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going.

He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back .

Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day

She agreed and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork.

A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home………

And to spite the ex-wife, they even took the curtain rods!!!!

I LOVE A HAPPY ENDING, DON’T YOU?

Nothing can bother you here.

No one knows this secret place.

You are in total seclusion from that place called “the world.”

The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

The water is clear and you can easily make out the face of the person whose head you’re holding under the water.

Look. It’s the person who caused you all this stress. What a pleasant surprise.

You let them up… just for a quick breath… then ploop!… back under they go…

You allow yourself as many deep breaths as you want.

There now… feeling better?

 Have a good one!

You may as well forget it 

I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year old again.

I want to go to McDonald’s and think that it’s a four star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.

I want to think M&M’s are better than money because you can eat them.

I want to lie under a big tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer’s day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple.

When all you knew was colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes,
but that didn’t bother you, because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care.

All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair.

That everyone is honest and good.

I want to believe that anything is possible.

I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want to live simple again.

I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, justice, a kind word, truth, peace, dreams, love, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So….here’s my checkbook, my wallet, my car-keys, my credit cards and my 401K statements.

I am officially resigning from adulthood.

And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first, cause,

“Tag! You’re It.”

…Author Unknown

NAME: Jack Buckley   (Grumpy ***)

SEX: Not lately, but I am looking for the right woman (or at least one who will cooperate)

DESIRED POSITION:  Company’s President or Vice President.  But seriously, whatever’s available.  If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn’t be applying here in the first place ?

DESIRED SALARY:  $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package.  If  that’s not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.

BIRTHDATE:   February 29    EDUCATION: Yes.

LAST POSITION HELD:  Target for middle management hostility.

PREVIOUS SALARY:  A lot less than I’m worth.

MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT:  My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.

! REASON FOR LEAVING: It sucked.

HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK:  Any.

PREFERRED HOURS:  1:30-3:30 p.m. Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?:  Yes, but they’re better suited to a more intimate environment.

MA Y WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?:  If I had one, would I be here?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 lbs.?:  Of what?

DO YOU HAVE A CAR?: I think the more appropriate question here would be “Do you have a car that runs?”

HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?:  I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, so they tell me.

DO YOU SMOKE?:  On the job - no! On my breaks - yes!

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?: Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde supermodel who thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread.  Actually, I’d like to be doing that now.

NEAREST RELATIVE….7 miles

DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?:  Oh yes, absolutely.  

I want to thank you for cutting in front of me at Dick’s Sporting Goods at South Park Mall, around 12:30PM today. I can’t begin to tell you how you made my day.
You see, I only had one item, a T-ball bat I was picking up for my son. He just started playing T-ball last week. It’s really quite comical to watch a bunch of 4 year-olds attempt to play baseball. Some of the other kids had their own bats, so I thought I’d surprise him with one of his own.

So when you slipped in front of me from behind the candy bar display, you caught me a little off-guard. I noticed you didn’t appear to have any sporting goods. You only had your purse, your open wallet, and an opened Hershey’s Take5 candy bar. Oh yeah, and a very large mouthful of chocolate, peanut butter, caramel, and pretzel goodness. I came to the conclusion that you must have been really jonesing for chocolate and decided to start munching even before you had paid for it. It happens.

South Park Lady, I decided right then and there that I was going to cut you some slack. Maybe you really didn’t see me coming and didn’t intentionally cut in front of me. I decided I would immediately cease and desist cursing you under my breath.

Then, instead of pulling out one of your many credit cards (I figure you had no less than 30), you pulled out a Dick’s receipt.

You were attempting to return a half-eaten chocolate bar.

The look on the cashier’s face was priceless. Surely, there must be something up with this candy bar.

“Has it gone bad,” the cashier asked?

I couldn’t see the offensive candy, but I imagined it must be squirming with maggots. I remembered hearing that old story as a kid – the one where someone was eating a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, and when they looked at it after the first bite, there were maggots inside. To this day, I still break my Peanut Butter Cups in half before taking a bite.

“No. I just don’t like it,” you mumbled through a mouthful of the very candy bar you were trying to return.

When the cashier turned to the cashier beside him, and asked her advice, the look on her face was precisely the same as his. It was, to use a cliché, the classic deer-in-the-headlights look. I had a particularly nasty image of someone appearing from the hunting department and putting the poor cashiers out of their misery.

“Is something wrong with it,” she asked?

By this time you were clutching the candy wrapper to your chest. Still chewing, you shook your head, “I don’t like it.”

A third employee just happened to be walking by and caught the second exchange. All three cashiers were looking at each other, thoroughly confused. My friend and I were struggling to keep from totally breaking down into fits of laughter. It wasn’t so much your ridiculous request, South Park Lady — it was the looks on their faces! They all started looking around for the manager who, lucky for us, just happened to be headed our way.

The third kid stopped the manager, and explained your chocolaty displeasure. The manager looked at you, then looked at my friend and me. (We were both snickering loudly at that point.) With a familiar confused (and slightly annoyed) look on his face, the manager asked the following four words to all six of us standing there:

“Is this a joke?”

I’m sorry my friend and I laughed so hard. I think the manager thought maybe it really was a joke — that we and the cashiers had put you up to it as a prank on him.

At that point you obviously decided this was one of those rare instances where you weren’t going to get what you wanted. Maybe you realized what a ridiculous fool you were being. I’m sure you would have done a better job yelling at that manager if it weren’t for all the chocolate/pretzel/caramel mixture caked in your mouth. I think your case might have been stronger if you had spit it out on the floor and “raised some hell,” as we True Southerners are fond of saying. You might have even gotten your dollar back. You walked out, hands in the air, presumably never to return to that awful candy store again.

You’re obviously very bored. Hubby working long hours at the bank? Running out of stuff to buy? Bummer. Since Dick’s didn’t work out for you, I have some other suggestions for a fun day at South Park:

* Hallmark: Buy some greeting cards and promptly sign them and address the envelopes. Demand a refund because you wrote the wrong address, signed the wrong name, etc.

* Neiman Marcus/Macy’s/Nordstrom: Buy the most expensive perfume and immediately apply it. Demand a refund because it smells like horse piss. Bonus: Demand free soap to wash it off.

* Head across the street to the Taj Ma-Teeter and buy a big, fat cucumber. As soon as you leave the checkout lane, head back to the produce department and pleasure yourself with it. Return the cucumber for being “too bumpy.”

Really thanks. I haven’t laughed that hard in awhile. Everyone I’ve told this story to today has enjoyed the shock value of a moron trying to return a half-eaten candy bar — but for the real comedy, you had to be there. It was the looks on their faces! My kids and grandkids are going to hear the story of the “Crazy South Park Lady Who Returns Half-Eaten Candy Bars at Sporting Goods Stores” for years to come. Thank you, South Park Lady.

Oh, and thank you for reminding me why I quit going to South Park Mall.

Thanks to the poster on Craig’s List