Hi all. Just a quick note to let you all know I'm still around. Been a bit busy to say the least. I read this tonight and almost fell off from my chair so I thought that I would drop a quick note and hopfully a laugh for you to brighten your day.

Peace out



Lizard birthing story
>
> If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the
>pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the
story
>below will have you laughing out LOUD!
>
> Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the
>vet. Here's what happened:
>
>Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there
>was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in
>his room. "He's just lying here looking sick," he told me. "I'm
>serious, Mom. Can you help?
>
>I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him
into
>his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back,
>looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called,
>"come look at the lizard!"
>
>"Oh my gosh," my husband diagnosed after a minute. "She's
>having babies."
>
> "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Dad!"
>
>I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said
>we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my husband.
>
> "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?"
>he inquired. (I actually think he said this sarcastically!)
>
> "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded him, (in
>my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
>
> "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
>
> "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,"
>He informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)
>
>By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on.
>
> I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going
>to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness
>the miracle of birth.
>
> " OH, Gross!" they shrieked.
>
> "Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter
>of tiny little lizard babies?" my husband wanted to know. (I really
>do think he was being snotty here, too, don't you?)
>
> We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked
>like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
>
> "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
>
> "Its breech," my husband whispered, horrified.
>
>"Do something, Mom!" my son urged.
>
> "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when
>it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried
>several more times with the same results.
>
> "Should I call 911?" my eldest son wanted to know. "Maybe they could
>talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the men in my
>house?)
>
> "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet
>with my son holding the cage in his lap.
>
> "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
>
> "I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his father noted to him (Men can
>be so cruel to their own young. I mean what he does to me is one
>thing, but this boy is of his loins, for God's sake.)
>
>The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
>animal through a magnifying glass.
>
>"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
>
> "Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may
>I speak to you privately for a moment?"
>
> I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
>
> "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my husband asked.
>
>"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor.
>In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen...Ernie is a boy. You see,
>Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into
>maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the
>way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my husband.
>"Well, you know what I'm saying, Mrs. Cameron."
>
>We were silent, absorbing this.
>
> "So Ernie's just...just...Excited," my husband offered.
>
> "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood. More silence.
>
> Then my vicious, cruel husband started to giggle. And giggle. And
>then even laugh loudly.
>
>"What's so funny?" I demanded knowing, but not believing that the man I
>married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless femininity.
>
> Tears were now running down his face.
>
>"It's just...that...I'm picturing... you pulling
>on it's...it's...teeny little..." he gasped for more air to bellow in
>laughter once more.
>
> "That's enough," I warned.
>
>We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our
son
>back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
>
> "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Mom," he told
>me.
>
> "Oh, you have NO idea," my husband agreed, collapsing with laughter.
>
>2 - Lizards - $140...
>1 - Cage - $50...
>Trip to the Vet - $30...
>
> Memory of your wife pulling on a lizard's wacker. Priceless!!!
>
> Doesn't anyone know lizards lay eggs??

priceless story....