Why do you think...

gotta be the baton

"hey mister, quit playing with your dingy"

oh my god! i cant belive it i have seen that movie like 1000 times. LoL

I cant think of exactly how the quote goes at the moment, but it's something more along the lines of:

"When I was a kid, I would come out here, and my dad would be sitting up on the shore, and he would always yell out to me "Quit playing with your dingy."

On a related note, I think we should start an all-Tommy boy thread...

how come sjm counts his relay splits as his prs? is that legitimate?

Even if the runner/baton slow down, it's still superior to starting from zero.

Physics aside, there is (sometimes) the factor that depending on the relative rankings of the relay legs, one might end up next to someone who he/she would never be next to in an open race, and get towed to a better time.

Frankly, I've always had the opinion that if someone's relay split (for the 4X400m) was more than a second better than their open, they weren't running their open race as well as they could.

I Like Monkeys

The pet store was selling them for five cents a pieace. I thought this

was odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a

gift horse in the mouth so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of drive. His

name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright.

They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in

the genitals.

I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new

environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high

speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost

its novelty halfway into it's third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they

all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda

like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. God damn cheap

monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my

room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I

had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work.

It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine

dead, dry monkeys.

I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for

awhile, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real

bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn't want to

call a plumber. I was too embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely

there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30

seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't go bad.

I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I

had

to extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in

my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on

my bed, The odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I

really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the

monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not

allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He

couldn't take it either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My

friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but

I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.