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Bicycle Love is Shooing a Roadside Cow

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride." - John F. Kennedy *******

Johnnie Lacy's Facebook profile

the end


Sunday, December 21, 2003

It is the time of year that Christmas Parties are everywhere!

Tom had been in business for 25 years and was finally sick of
the stress.

He quit his job and bought 50 acres of land in Alaska as far
from humanity as possible. He saw the postman once a week and
got groceries once a month. Otherwise, it was total peace and

After six months or so of total isolation, someone knocked on
his door. He opened it and there was a huge, bearded man
standing there. "Name's Lars, your neighbor from forty miles
up the road. Having a Christmas party Friday night... thought
you might like to come... about 5:00."

"Great," says Tom, "after six months out here I'm ready to meet
some local folks. Thank you!"

Lars is leaving, he stops. "Gotta warn you... There's gonna be
some drinkin'."

"Not a problem," says Tom. "After 25 years in business, I can
drink with the best of 'em."

Again, as he starts to leave, Lars stops. "More 'n likely
gonna be some fightin' too."

Tom says, "Well, I get along with people, I'll be alright.
I'll be there. Thanks again."

Once again Lars turns from the door. "More 'n likely be some
wild sex, too."

"Now that's really not a problem," says Tom, warming to the
idea. "I've been all alone for six months! I'll definitely
be there. By the way, what should I wear?"

Lars stops in the door again and says, "Whatever you want.
Just gonna be the two of us."

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Friday, December 19, 2003

Dear Santa

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and
cuddled my two children on demand, visited the
doctor's office more times than my doctor, sold
sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant
a shade tree on the school playground and figured out
how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl
scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several
Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my
son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the
laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll
find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of
chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I
already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze,
but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out
of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also
like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the
seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like
a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio
that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't
broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and
a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the
crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter
doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental
confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two
kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that
will zip all the way up without the use of power
tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks
chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take
your hands off your brother," because my voice seems
to be just out of my children's hearing range and can
only be heard by the dog. And please don't forget the
Playdoh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this
year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three
fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any
carpet making the In-laws' house seem just like mine.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd
settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my
hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating
food warmer than room temperature without it being
served in a Styrofoam container. If you don't mind I
could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten
the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to
declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my
conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you
could coerce my children to help around the house
without demanding payment as if they were the bosses
of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't
look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice
cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and
my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I
think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and
remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and
come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch
cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but
don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always...


PS One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if
you can keep my children innocent enough to believe
in Santa.

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Saturday, December 06, 2003

Just got back from a big shopping spree, No no Not christmas. I was shopping for material to build a geocache.
Home Depot, Ace hardware, Office depot, and the internet.

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Thursday, December 04, 2003

This came from a lady friend of mine. Some of her family members has
redneck tendencies

Her story
As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Walmart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've Never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!
Who would buy that?"

Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless.

"Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny, Hang on!"

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car. It was, indeed, a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.

Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

Merry Christmas One and All!!!!

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Wednesday, December 03, 2003

yipppeeeee yoyo and trailerman have logged Moolah. I am so glad that they now have all the hunting, driving,
and so on behind them. my intention was that they would give up and let it lie, but no they was in it till the end.
Congrats to them for being the geocacher that don't quit. Now to see what erik does. maybe he will find it soon.

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