I have only two rules that I live by. Wait.. no... I have only three rules that I live by. Crap, I was right the first time. There are definitely only two.
They are as follows:
1. Try never to post twice in the same day no matter how much apple scented Glass Plus I drank before turning on my computer.
2. Never, ever under any circumstances post anything that makes someone else appear funnier than me. (Unless they are funnier looking than me, in which case I am totally OK with it.)
Sometimes rules, much like marriage vows and diets, should be broken.
This arrived in my inbox one day ago:
Perhaps you would enjoy a visit to the annual "Toad Suck Daze" festival.
This extravaganza is held in, where else but, Toad Suck, Arkansas (where else).
Yes there is such a place.
Click here: 2006 Toad Suck Daze
As if I weren't excited enough to find out that Toad Suck Daze exists, imagine my delight when this evening as I'm about to go to bed, I find yet another email from Toad Suck Guy waiting for me.
If you decide to attend the Toad Suck Daze (and it's inconceivable to me how you could pass on this).
I was wondering if it might be possible to invite a single female friend to come along. Don't be afraid to lie to her. Preferably one that you wouldn't mind if never spoke to you again, and owns a bass-boat and motor. If you know such a person, I would like to have a photo of the boat and motor before meeting her. I would also consider a female with a newer model ATV. Don't take this personally now, but someone unlike yourself, as I keep guns and knives in the house, and have an inordinate fear of waking up dead some morning.
(So what? Just because I sometimes threaten to commit a small homicide now and then I'm not good enough to be asked to Toad Suck Daze? That stung a little.)
I am considered a pretty-good catch here in Arkansas as I have four teeth, here's the best part, all in front! (I can see why he's a catch. I am left to wonder however whether they are all in a row.)
I have some hair (Bonus!) but I keep my John Deere (foil lined of course) cap on most of the time. I am not overweight, and don't drink, but for the right girl I am certain I could learn. Come to think; someone like yourself might work OK for me learning to drink though.
(There it is again. He takes me right to the brink of getting my hopes up thinking I might "work" for him, and then says it's only because I am the kind of woman who turns a stand-up guy into a drunk. That one made my back hurt. I may never recover.)
I never wear my hog-boots in the bedroom. (Sad. Perhaps you should try it.)
My favorite designer label is Carhart.
(I own one of those! One of the ex-husbands bought it for me after our divorce because I said I admired his. See??? If ex-husbands still like me enough to purchase unattractive outerwear for me, that's gotta say something.)
I can't resist boasting here, only 6 more payments on my 1985 Chevy truck. Might need some help with the payoff.
(I'm a Ford girl. This may present a problem.)
I have a nice 1968 8' wide trailer on 90 acres. If you could roll out the hills and hollers it would be over 300 acres and (sorry, boasting again) four trucks and a car up on blocks in the front yard. I just put new carpeting in the bathroom, and it looked so nice, I ran it all the way to the house!
(That'll be great for those late night strolls.)
The porch is beautiful, and will easily support the weight of 8 hounds, 3 old refrigerators, and a upholstered sofa at the same time.
(He's a land owner with a cozy cottage fixer upper. I'm a Realtor. Can't he see this is a match made in Heaven?)
The lucky princess would have this wonderful domicile pretty-much all to herself during hunting and fishing season. I would just come by occasionally to drop off dead critters for cleaning. Depending on how cute she is, maybe even a pre-cut supply of stove wood, you get my drift here?
(Was that some sort of hillbilly innuendo there? I almost think it was!)
I have color coordinated his and her chainsaws.
Job you may ask? Well.....sadly ....my job petered out. I had a good steady job toting 100 lb sacks of sugar through the woods, but some vandals came and busted all the barrels and jars, and stole the boiler. Is nothing sacred any longer?
(This I get as I am a Southern girl whose grandparents lived across the way from a moonshiner. I feel his pain.)
There are lots more details, but I don't wish to waste your time, or get my hopes up. This is a very small town, and it is obvious to everyone, even strangers, that I have no wife or girlfriend. They can tell by observing my truck, the BeechNut tobacco stains run down only the driver's side.
(BeechNut was my Granddaddy's chew. Now I am obsessed for real. I need to get this man to forget my friend and beg ME to come live happily ever after with him in the Land of old mobile homes, lazy dogs and grazing animals that need to be butchered.)
I've never written an email to a stranger before, but you seem understanding. That, and conditions here are desperate.
(I am understanding. Everybody says so. And pretty. Insanely pretty.)
Seriously now, hope you are feeling better. Keep it up, I enjoy the laughs.
Sure, when you bring the OCD Chick into your life you are risking some of the madness rubbing off onto you. One minute you're fine and happy and the next, I have you helping me line up all the magazines at Wal-Mart in order of how often the number seven appears throughout the publication. And yes, there is always the possibility that you will wake up one morning to find I have shot you in the head. But the times between what I like to call the wild swings of the pendulum of crazy can be pretty freaking fantastic. I'd hate for you to miss that.
Your request for a friend has been denied. Instead I'm putting you on my husband waiting list where you will occupy the number 32 spot. Don't worry. The line moves quicker than you'd think. You'll thank me for it, and once it's ended... as they always do, you will love me so much, you'll be oddly compelled to buy me a coat.
You are a lucky, lucky man.
Mrs. Crazy on Her AgriBiz
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