Happy Easter and stuff

OK. we all know that it's Easter tomorrow (or today, depending on how you look at it). We all also know that I'm a lazy bastard, so here's a coup[e of (very tenuously) Easter related cut and paste jobbies that I've been saving for a special occasion. The first one comes from a newsgroup devoted to cooking (Don't laugh, a man's gotta eat, and if you don't know how to cook, then someone who can cook is a good person to ask for advice), I don't remember who posted it, but it's called

The Rules Of Chocolate

If you get melted chocolate all over your hands,
you're eating it too slowly.

Chocolate covered raisins, cherries, orange slices
and strawberries all count as fruit,
so eat as many as you want.

The problem:
How to get two pounds of chocolate home
from the store in a hot car.
The solution: Eat it in the parking lot.

Diet tip: Eat a chocolate bar before each meal.
It'll take the edge off your appetite and you'll eat less.

A nice box of chocolates can provide your total daily intake of
calories in one place. Isn't that handy?

If you can't eat all your chocolate, it will keep in
the freezer. But if you can't eat all your chocolate,
what's wrong with you?

If calories are an issue, store your chocolate on top
of the fridge. Calories are afraid of heights, and they
will jump out of the chocolate to protect themselves.

Money talks. Chocolate sings.

Chocolate has many preservatives.
Preservatives make you look younger.

Why is there no such organization as
Chocoholics Anonymous?
Because no one wants to quit.

Put eat chocolate at the top of your list of things to do today. That
way, at least you'll get one thing done.

Tee Hee, huh. OK, that one was probably more for the laydeez. I don't really have anything for the blokes, so Maybe you'll just have to

Deal With It

You've probably heard of the term 'metrosexual', or stupid things like
'queer eye for the straight guy'. Well here is the latest movement, the
Retrosexual!
OK folks, I have had it. Every time my TV is on, all that can be seen is
effeminate men redecorating houses, talking about foreign concepts like
"style", and "fixing" guys like myself. Real men of the world, stand up,
scratch your butt, belch, and yell, "ENOUGH!" I hereby announce the start of
a new offensive in the culture wars, the Retrosexual movement.

The Code
A Retrosexual DEALS with it. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or
a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.
A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.
A Retrosexual doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you
live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still smoking cigars and
drinking, I salute you.
A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women
have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need 1.
A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he's 30 years
old.
A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be.
This falls under the "dealing with it" portion of The Code.
A Retrosexual watches no TV show with "Queer" in the title.
A Retrosexual does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national
TV.
A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for sex.
Some is inevitable, but major re-invention of yourself will only lead to you
becoming a froo-froo little wuss, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.
A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress
such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak
treechipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city
etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough
attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT. When you screwed up, he DEALT
with you. Buck up WUSSY.
A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to
conceal himself from prey.
A Retrosexual does not strip naked, get into a sweat lodge, and bang on
drums to bond with other guys. That stuff is gay. However dressing in kilts,
banging on drums around a campfire, and drinking heavily is just fine.
A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about getting.
(If not, he can borrow some from a friend who has enough wound stories to
last for 3 lifetimes)
A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a
damn nail, or drill a straight hole, practice in secret until you can or be
rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.
A Retrosexual does not order an apple martini at the bar. Get a beer and a
shot of scotch or bourbon.
A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that you are riddled
with fear, or are trying to make up for a small penis. Guns are TOOLS and
are often essential to DEAL with it. Plus it's just plain fun to shoot.

Note:
Crying. There are very few reason that a retrosexual may cry, and none of
them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams
are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is
swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a retrosexual can cry
include ( but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a pet (
fish do NOT count as pets in this case), loss of a major body part.

OK so that one came from another newsgroup, but at least it came from the testosterone laden atmosphere of a motorcycling newsgroup.
Happy Easter ya bastards.