I am writing to say what an excellent product you have!
I have used your detergent all of my married life as my mom always told me it was the best.
Now that I am in my fifties I find that Tide works even better than ever.
In fact, about a month ago I spilled some red wine on my new white blouse. My inconsiderate and uncaring husband started to belittle me about how clumsy I was and generally acting like a pain in the neck. One thing led to another and somehow I ended up with his blood on my new white blouse.
I grabbed my bottle of Tide with bleach alternative and to my surprise and satisfaction all of the stains came out! In fact, the stains came out so well that the detectives who came by the house yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse came out negative and then my attorney called and said that I was no longer considered a suspect in my husband's disappearance.
What a relief! Going through menopause is bad enough without being a murder suspect!
I thank you once again for making such a great product.
Well, gotta go, have to write to thank the Hefty Bag people.
A satisfied customer
07-19-2006, 01:09 PM
While watching football on t.v. the other night my wife and I discussed life and death.
I told her, "Just so you know, I never want to live in a vegetative state,
dependent on some machine and relying on fluids from a bottle. If that ever
happens, just pull the plug."
She promptly got up, unplugged the TV and threw out all my beer.
There are some days when I hate being married to a smart woman.
07-23-2006, 12:40 PM
This is a hoot!
> You will have to laugh at this !!!!! (or maybe not - but it is funny)
> If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet
> syndrome including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story
> below will have you laughing out LOUD!
> Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
> Here's what happened:
> Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there
> was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner
> in his room.
> "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious dad,
> can you help?"
> I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him
> into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his
> back, looking stressed.
> I immediately knew what to do.
> "Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
> "Oh my! gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute.
> "She's having babies."
> "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert
> and Ernie, Mom!"
> I was equally outraged.
> "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't
> want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
> "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in
> their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this
> "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my
> most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
> "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
> "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,"
> she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)
> By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on.
> I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
> "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I
> announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
> "Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
> "Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter
> of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do
> think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)
> We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a
> tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
> "We don't appear to be making much progress," I
> "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
> "Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
> "Okay, okay." Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when
> it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug.
> It disappeared.
> I tried several more times with the same results.
> "Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know.
> "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma."
> (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
> "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
> We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
> "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
> "I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him.
> (Women can be so cruel to their own young.
> I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her
> The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and
> peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
> "What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
> "Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I
> speak to you privately for a moment?"
> I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
> "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
> "Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor.
> In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see,
Ernie is a young male.
> And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male
> species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on
> He blushed, glancing at my wife.
> "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
> We were silent, absorbing this.
> "So Ernie's just...just... excited," my wife offered.
> "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
> More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle.
> And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
> "What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the
> woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless
> Tears were now running down her face. Laughing "It's
> just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its... its...teeny
> little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
> "That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled
> the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was
going to be okay.
> "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told
> "Oh, you have NO idea,"
> Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
> 2 - Lizards - $140...
> 1 - Cage - $50...
> Trip to the Vet - $30...
> Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie...Priceless
> Moral of the story -
> finish biology class -
> lizards lay eggs! :rofl:
07-23-2006, 09:41 PM
09-12-2006, 03:51 PM
Mrs. Johnson decided to have her own portrait painted by a very famous artist.
She told the artist, "Paint me with 3- carat diamond earrings, a large diamond necklace, glimmering emerald bracelets, and a beautiful red ruby pendant."
"But ma'am, you are not wearing any of those things."
"I know," said Mrs. Johnson. "My health is not good and my husband is having an affair with his secretary.
When I die I'm sure he will marry her, and I want the witch to go nuts looking for the jewelry..."
09-12-2006, 04:18 PM
The relatives were gathered at the hospital in the waiting room, where their family member lay gravely ill.
Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and somber.
"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," he said as he surveyed the worried faces.
"The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain transplant. It's an experimental procedure, very risky but it is the only hope. Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have to pay for the brain yourselves.."
The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news. After a great length of time, someone asked, "Well, how much does a brain cost?"
The doctor quickly responded, "$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for a female brain."
The moment turned awkward. The men in the room tried not to smile, avoiding eye contact with the women, but some actually smirked.
One of the men, unable to control his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask,"Why is the male brain so much more?"
The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and explained to the entire group, "It's just standard pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they've actually been used."
09-12-2006, 06:36 PM
I really really love that one Mauv. LMAO!!
10-31-2006, 09:39 PM
13 Things PMS Stands For:
1 Pass My Shotgun
2 Psychotic Mood Shift
3 Perpetual Munching Spree
4 Puffy Mid-Section
5 People Make me Sick
6 Provide Me with Sweets
7 Pardon My Sobbing
8 Pimples May Surface
9 Pass My Sweatpants
10. Pissy Mood Syndrome
11. Plainly; Men Suck
12. Pack My Stuff
and most important...
13. Potential Murder Suspect
11-01-2006, 09:49 AM
:lol: Here's one I use when I guy says "What's wrong with you? PMS?"
I smile sweetly and say: "Yes, I am suffering from Perpetual Male Stupidity!" :devil: