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ah, the vintage "are women dumber than dogs" thread


a personal favourite that i had to save because it always makes me laugh


I think there's a good case for women being noticeably dumber than dogs.


I'm not a dog lover, by which I mean I actually dislike dogs. I'm not simply 'not bothered' by them, I actively dislike the little f**kers.


Last night my bird comes home and says, "I've got you a present"... "Ooooh", I thought, she's bought me beer.




No beer.


In fact she wasn't even speaking to me, she was trying to hold a conversation with her dog. I say her dog because I want no party to owning a f**king dog.


She's stopped at the pet store and bought him some birthday presents.


Apparently her dog has a f**kin birthday.


"He's five, say Happy Birthday to Dillon", she says.


I won't bother typing my response to that request, because you can probably imagine what I said. Suffice to say the word "f**k" or derivatives thereof was said a goodly number of time in said reply.


She's not easily discouraged, my bird, I'll say that much for her... because she continued on in Happy Birthday dog mode for the next 30 minutes.. producing all these f**king bones and chews and toys and squeakys.. f**kin dog gets more than I do.


So anyway, to cut to the chase, she produces dog-food gravy.


It's a sachet (that's like a packet only posh) of gravy that you pour on the dog's food and it gives the dog a delicious meal or some-f**king-such-like.


Not being a complete f**king moron, I say to her, "You're not giving that to your dog, idiot".


"But he'll like it", she says.


"Will you like cleaning up the dog skitters that are going to result from him eating that sh*te"?


"He'll be fine", she says.


"No, he'll sh*t all over the f**king house and I'm the c**t that will have to clean it"... I did actually use the words "And I'm the c**t", just so she knew how serious I was about this.


Clearly she was all concerned about the idea of me down on the carpet scrubbing runny dog sh*t out of the fibres... because she immediately went and fed him this gravy pish.


I stood there open mouthed at the limitless stupidity she'd just exhibited.


"Did you hear a f**king word I just said?", I enquired politely.


"He's not going to go on the carpet", she assured me.


"Get tae f**k". I explained to her.


So today I'm Mr f**king industrious. I'm on-site at 7 o'clock to fix Retarded Company Inc's networks AGAIN because they've all the computer skills of the monkey-people at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Christ knows what they do to the things, but It's about a two hour drive there and back, so there's my morning gone tae sh*t.


On my way back I realise there's nothing I have to do that can't be ignored until tomorrow, so I decide to do the shopping alone... this means that I can get groceries, get home and put on dinner and she can come home and not worry about shopping or cooking. She can, in effect, sit on her arse and watch TV and be waited on hand and f**king foot.


Come to think about it, I'm f**king tremendous.


So I pull up in the driveway, start unloading the first bunch of groceries, juggle with the keys and let myself into the house.


The first thing I smell is the overpowering stench of dog sh*t.


"Get tae f**k"! I actually yell while standing at the door.


So I head into the house, gagging on the reek of dog-sh*t like I've just got off the train in Glasgow, and there, right in the middle of the living room, is a giant pool of dog sh*t with a sort of 6" high "Leaning Tower of Dog sh*t" right in the middle.


So I'm a little concerned that my warning of this event fell on deaf ears.


First thing I do, obviously, is find the culprit.


He's sloping around trying to get away from me, but that's not happening. I drag him out into his yard and lock the door. I think it's about ten below freezing today, so with any luck he'll be dead by the time I decide to let him back in.


Next I call my bird at work and explain the situation... "Hello? Get tae f**k", I explain.


So for the last 45 minutes.. at least 45 minutes prior to posting this, I've been scrubbing dog sh*t out of my living room carpet. I don't know how it's spelled, but I've been cowkin' for about an hour.


Now the house smells like we've been burgled by Huns, and I'm feeling physically sick.


Women are all f**king idiots.


I'm trying to decide whether to break her fingers or give her a hate f**k.


Probably a hate-f**k, because breaking her fingers is a clear cut case of domestic abuse, whereas a hate f**k I can play off as her clearly flirting with me and, as such, without an excuse to turn me down.



First Team Regular



Joined: May 15, 2005

Posts: 1193 Posted: Tue Nov 22, 2005 9:29 pm Post subject: Re: Are women dumber than dogs?




Kelsch wrote:

Why the f**k didn't you leave it for her to clean up?


Kelt wrote:


Because.. and I know you'll think I'm mental... a giant puddle of dog sh*t on my living room carpet is something I consider to be in need of immediate attention. If her dog had been choking to death on a squirrel or something, then I could quite happily ignore it until she got home. But a house filled with the delightful scent of dog skitters is not something I can easily ignore.


Do you own a carpet at all?


If you do I'd hope that, should you come home to the sight that greeted me today, you'd maybe be moved to get it cleaned up rather than waiting a few hours for the twat to come home.


By the way, she just called me (an hour after my call to her) to tell me she's "on her way home right now... an hour after she knows I'll have cleaned it up), so hurray.. we're saved




tzanko_tzvetynob wrote:

Aye Kelt, yer bird is thick as sh*t and from what Ive heard shes a bit of a munter too. Just get a new one. Dogs however are excellent.


Kelt wrote:

Granted she's not as good a ride as your bird, but then the amount o lads that have been through that ugly hoor o yours, well, she's bound tae know all the tricks, eh?





greatest thread ive ever bore witness to. highlight has to be "...'get tae f**k' i explained"

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Whit wis ah like?


I still remember the sheer f**king rage that day. I was preparing to dish out some serious domestic abuse to the wife...


Mind you, the dog's deid now and I'm still posting sh*te on fitba boards, so who won in the end?


Not the f**king dog.


Did NOT like that f**king dog.

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Favourite post has to be the proposed meet-up with severinschild, a hammer, and a church.


Chat boards just arnie the same now!


That started off as a bit of a jolly wheeze, but latterly began to concern me greatly.


I basically invited Seve's Child to batter a complete stranger senseless, with a hammer, on the steps of a Dalry church.


And he was going to do it. :omg:


I did consider that he was simply bluffing me, by way of ripping the piss right back.


Alas no.


Just goes to show you can't guarantee that your 'humour' is going to be taken in the spirit in which it's intended. Rather, it shows that shit can get out of hand when there's a miscommunication.

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