I have a way with the women

Transcript of an actual conversation I had with a hot chick yesterday.

She:  Hows it going?

Me:  Not bad.  What have you been up to?

She:  Nothing much, really.  Guess what?

Me:  You're pregnant?

She:  NO!

Me:  Oh.  Well I've been telling people you're pregnant.

She:  I can't be pregnant.  I have one of those...IDU's....IUD's...whatever they're called.

Me:  Oh, you mean an IED?

She:  IED?

Me:  Yeah.  Inter e-u-t-e-r-i-n-e device

She:  That's it.   I have one of those.

Me:  They're not foolproof.  You could still get pregnant.

Randy Rasmussen: Part VI

Opening Crawl

Chapter VI

The Quantum Distortion

It is a period of economic turmoil and uncertainty.

Competing   carriers   and   long-haul   freelancers

in  '08 won a progressive victory, a referendum of

Bush's archaic, failed national transportation policy.

In a seemingly unrelated development, the intrepid

trucker:  Randy  Rasmussen,   speeds  across  the

barren wastes of eastern Nevada, custodian  of  a

high  value  cargo of soy and gum arabic destined 

for north-central Cheyennes eraser conglomerates.

Pursued  by the sinister progeny  of  the  tragically

deceased trucker  Dick Augney, and  stalked by  

voluptuous  long-haul  banshee 'Sweaty'  Negretti,

Randy Rasmussen unknowingly encounters  a tear

in the very fabric of space and time . . . . . . . . . .

(Scene 1:  Pan downward from opening crawl to a custom Peterbilt approaching  a poorly lit UHP weigh station on the southern Utah / Arizona border.  The rig rolls to a stop and after a moment, our hero opens the door and climbs down to the recently repaved tarmac.  Stretching his back and stiffling a yawn, Randy strides toward the weigh station office)

Randy "Dave" Rasmussen: (to the desk clerk)  Hiya doin?

Trooper Clyde Barnett:  Good morning sir, what can I do for you?

Randy:  Well son, I got me a load of soy and gum arabic for one of those eraser factories in Wyoming and I sure as hell mean to see it through by dawn, but I gotta take me a leak.

Trooper Clyde:  Down the hall...to your right.

(Cut to scene 2:  Inside a custom Keworth somewhere in the Arizona badlands, 'Sweaty' Alice Negretti, clad resplendently in a pair of black leather hotpants and nothing else, sleeps fitfully)

'Sweaty' Alice Negretti:  (talking in her sleep)  Sonofabitch.....why wont you take me?

(Cut to scene 3:  moments later inside the St George weigh station)

Randy:  Godamighty my pants fit better now.  Thank you, kind sir.

Trooper Clyde:  (nods)

Randy:  Say, what time you got?

Trooper Clyde:  (checks his watch)  Just about one a.m., sir.

Randy:  (stunned)  What?

Trooper Clyde:  I said it's just about one, sir.  Sir?  Sir, are you all right?

Randy:  Trooper, are you sure about the time?

Trooper Clyde:  Yes sir.

Randy:  But thats impossible.   There's no way...

Trooper Clyde:  Huh?

Randy:  Son,  I rented me a girl tonight in Mesquite and I left as soon as I was done.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  That was forty five minutes ago....at eleven o'clock.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Damn it, man.  Don't you get it?

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Ever been to Mesquite, son?

Trooper Clyde:  All the time sir,  my sister lives there.

Randy:  How long is the drive?

Trooper Clyde:  Thirty...forty five minutes at most.

Randy:  Don't you see?  I left forty five minutes ago!  AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares and blinks twice)

Randy:  Look at my watch, man!  Look!  It says 11:56!  How the hell do you figure it's almost one a.m.?

Trooper Clyde:  (blinks)

Randy:  Oh I get it.  You're in on this too!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  God as my witness, I will figure out whats going on here.   It's got to be some sort of quantum displacement.  Some kind of rupture in the fabric of space and time maybe. I dont know much about that kinda stuff but I will figure out whats going on.  And when I do....

Trooper Clyde:  Ok sir.  Have a good night, sir.

(Randy backs out slowly and once out of Trooper Clyde's line of sight, sprints to the safety of his Peterbilt, determined more than ever to see his precious cargo delivered on time to Cheyenne)

Information Request

Russia has apparently suspended adoptions to the US.

I dont really care about that.

My concern is with whether this suspension includes mail order brides.   Because if it does, it looks like the future Mrs. Powers will probably have to be from Thailand.

Not that there is anything wrong here...

But someone has to be the first to point out that before his career in politics, Eric Massa was a long haul trucker.

Aww Crap, Manny! Bogey at nine o'clock!

And he's smokin

I'm going to jump ahead of the pack and say what everyone else is thinking

Polands president was killed by the Russians.

Thats right.  It was a hit. 

Remember, I said it first.

Its not important anyway because nobody watches baseball.

Also FYI

• RSL:  Still MLS champs
• Ben Roethlisberger: Still a pervert
• New Orleans:  Still the Aints
• Patti Russo:  Still fuggin' hot
• Kevin Garn:  Still the Utah Republican hot tub mac daddy
• PLEASE for the love of God, PLEASE check references when you're hiring a spiritual healer, it may seem like a hassle now...

Video Courtesy of KSL.com

The overlooked race angle in the raging debate about President Obama's baseball prowess

One point that is being completely overlooked in the controversy about President Obama's alleged girly throwing mechanics or his alleged lack of knowledge of anything baseball, is the fact that the sport isn't really inclusive to the black community.