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To: Crocodile who wrote (55255)8/27/2000 1:53:43 PM
From: Crocodile  Respond to of 71178
 
Damn.... gotta congratulate myself... that was a mighty fine grub... Don't think I ever scored one like that before...



To: Crocodile who wrote (55255)8/27/2000 2:00:41 PM
From: Gauguin  Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 71178
 
When you're thinking of "The Stuff Side of Things," it does get that complicated. BUT ~ what about if you die anyway? Today? Accidentally? Maybe it be best if you had gotten rid of a buncho that shit already, ANYWAY.

I mean, ya look around.....stuff everywhere.

Not that I'm going to get rid of it all. And then, "Where's my stuff?"

But, like, I tried to give my hardwood and tools collection to Dash and my friend? And the fuckers said No! Man! I was stumped. How am I going to die with all these hardwoods. What's She gonna do with them. Should I build a fire in the front yard?

This "technical" snafu was encountered when, 5 years ago, they thought I had cancer come back. STILL couldn't get rid of shit.

This is SO typical of "life."

Jeez.

Chuck it and get a nap. (Per Dr. Chooseanother)

Maybe eat some of Stumpy's comfort food.



To: Crocodile who wrote (55255)8/27/2000 2:04:17 PM
From: Mac Con Ulaidh  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 71178
 
lol. that is a side of it. The mum wanders around the house some days saying how she needs to get things marked for who they came from and who might want them. She doesn't do it, but she talks about it. And the pa gets obsessive about fixing the money things up for when he dies.

I find it a tad grumsume, but I quess I'm worse. I had to make a run back to another town to clean out an apartment and before I left I was cleaning like mad in the apartment here. The mum asked if I was moving, because it looked like a "clean=up for moving cleaning", and I said, "nah, that's the clean=up in case I die on the road cleaning". Gotta think about these things.



To: Crocodile who wrote (55255)8/27/2000 8:07:43 PM
From: JF Quinnelly  Respond to of 71178
 
I knew someone who drove his little tin-can Toyota into a bridge abutment, on purpose. He walked away without a scratch.

The same dude swallowed a bottle of pills. That didn't kill him, but it did give him a world-class hangover.

And he tried to shoot himself with a gun. It misfired and jammed.

I dunno if he ever succeeded. This was about 30 years ago, and he must have been about 60 at the time. Maybe he's a spry 90, and still making unsuccessful attempts to do himself in.