The B12 (XII) Forum, home of the 'Front Porch, y'all' at College Football Fan Site, CFB51!!!

I hate people who claim their dog is smarter than your kid.

Walk up to any little kid, ask ‘em their name and they’ll probably tell you their name and more.  Like “ I’m Samantha and I’m four.”

You can’t get that kind of information out of a dog. 

If some damn terminally lonely misanthropic nerdly boy wants to obsess over his relationship with a poor dumb animal who has little choice but to hang out with him when no one else will, that’s one thing.  If he wants to marvel at the intellect of this buttsniffing, garbage eating, loser-accepting canine, that’s fine too.

But when they want to contemptuously insult the youngest of the human race that’s just going too far.

You have to ask yourself what kind of sick depraved people would do such things?

I don't want to get religious but my in-laws and I share the same general theology but belonged to different denominations therein.   The difference basically boils down to two things:

In one denomination you baptize adults to celebrate their faith.  In the other denomination you baptize babies to celebrate God's grace, believing faith will come later.  

We never argued about that.  We were like, "eh... who cares?"

Where our denominations diverged to the point of argument is when people die.  When people in my denomination die, church ladies serve the family fried chicken back at the church in the fellowship hall after the graveside service.  In my in-laws' denomination die, church ladies serve the family finger sandwiches back at the church in the fellowship hall after the graveside service.  

Finger fricking sandwich.

You faithfully attend and support a church for 50 years and when you die, they give your grieving family finger nasty soggy little tuna fish sandwiches on white bread with the crust cut off.

Yuck.  That's another thing I hate.  Sandwich spreads.

Now I'm not picky and I can eat most anything and when it comes to sandwiches I'm down for Dagwoods.  I want deli meat, I want deli cheese, I want green leaf lettuce, sliced tomatoes, red onions, bean spouts, spicy mustard.  I'll take what you got - as long as it's a sandwich.  And in a pinch, I've been known to practically live on peanut butter sandwiches.

But don't give me egg salad, tuna salad or pimento cheese.  Don't give me deviled ham.  And don't give it to me on white bread with the crust cut off four hours after you made it.  I'd rather take a beating from chrechnian henchmen than stuff that vile crap in my mouth.

But my in-laws loved it so every time I'd go to their house that's what they'd try to feed me.  And when I politely declined they would deride me.

You don't like sandwiches?

What's wrong with you?

I never met anybody that didn't like sandwiches.

Blah blah blah

Over time I learned my in-laws didn't like Chinese food, Thai food, Vietnamese food and scarcely even liked Mexican food.  They whined if anything was too spicy  They liked their beef overcooked to the point of being shoe leather.

They didn't like coconut!  Or cilantro!

In other words, they were the pickiest eaters I ever met yet they ridiculed me because their nasty soggy sandwiches triggered my gag reflex.

Yeah.  That's the kind of stuff you have to put up with with in-laws.

Ironically, now that I'm older, I left my denomination and joined theirs but I've told my kids that when I die I want them all to skip the church lady reception back at the church after the graveside service and go buy fried chicken instead.

You can't send off loved ones without eating fried chicken.

It was like the Auschwich of cookie jars.

First off, that’s a great line.  Well done.  My question surrounds the actual use of cookie jars.  In my whole life the only person I’ve ever known to ever use a cookie jar is my paternal grandmother.  She would buy cookies from the store, take them out of the package, and put them in a jar. Fudge stripes were her cookie of choice.
How many people use cookie jars?

We have a cookie jar but it is filled with dog treats.   The dogs are smart enough to know the treats are in it (although likely NOT smarter than your kids, haha), and anytime someone even touches the jar for any reason they get all excited and try to earn one of the treats. 

I had to take the dogs over to my parents house for the weekend while we went out to the lake, and I was really glad the husband-type wasn't with me for the drop off/pick up, or I'd be hearing an earful about his "in-laws" and their messy habits.    I love my parents dearly, and they have had a really busy summer, but their hoarding tendencies are really out of hand right now and even I was a bit taken aback by how badly their house looks right now (after growing up with them and their chaotic ways).    Usually there's a few rooms that are decent-to-acceptable, as far as being able to open/close the door & walk around, or even have some clear space or visible surfaces.   There wasn't much of that this time and almost all the rooms are jam-packed with stuff piled up nearly the ceiling, and even the kitchen didn't have any clear counter space and was piled up with stuff.     I mean, the trash gets taken out and the dishes get cleaned, so it's not dirty trash, but just STUFF piled up everywhere - toys, clothes, random sewing projects that got abandoned, papers galore...   pretty  much what all the houses on Hoarders look like in the "before" cleanup images. 

When they told me my sister's family was coming to stay with them at the end of the month, I offered some clean-up help if they wanted extra hands for the effort, so that my poor brother-in-law wouldn't have to be staying there with all that mess, as I'm not sure if he's ever seen it that bad.   However if it's still that bad when they come, I can guarantee my sister throws a conniption fit about the state of the house, as she always seems much more bothered by it than I ever was.   

Polar opposite of MY in-laws, though, who are a military family and would be the type to put plastic covers on the couches.  They don't, but they are totally that type of household.  Not one thing out of order, not one dying plant or random stack of papers, and I'm almost afraid to touch or move anything there for fear of it being noticed or leaving a fingerprint.   

I don’t know about you guys but when I die I want to die peacefully in my sleep just like my grandpa. Not screaming and hollering like his passengers. 

My mom used to buy those 32 oz glass bottles of Coke and expect one to last us a week.  My brothers and I would slam that thing before even made it to the fridge.  Mom would be so angry.

And to think - today people drink a 44 oz, possibly twice a day.

Anyone remember how thick the glass was on those bottles?  You could brain someone with one of those things.

never forget the time I took a 12 oz bottle of Coke out of the fridge and guzzled the whole thing in front of my mother
she did not approve