Classy Lee How to be classy and stay classy


Classy Introduction

So, you got a new girlfriend. Things are going well and the relationship is progressing formidably. It is time for her to meet the parents. Fortunately for you, Class IS a hereditary attribute:

Mother Grundle (holding dog by front paws on lap):
"Look at the size of that schlong!"



Mother Grundle:
"No seriously. Look at the size of it. You can tell he's a Grundle".

"Always Classy, Ma. Always Classy."

Papa Grundle:
"Did I ever tell you about the time I shit in the shower?"


Classy Trophies

October and November in Michigan are big months for those who like to hunt deer.  The question is, once you take down a buck or a doe, what do you do with it?  Most people would prefer to go to the taxidermy and get their deer prepped to be hung on their wall or mantle over the fire place.  While this is acceptable, there must be a better way to show off your hard earned trophies.  See below for a solution:

Portable Trophies

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The Classy Sweet Tea Stomach Ache

What do you get when you mix a fifth of sweet tea vodka, two liters of Minute Maid lemonade substitute, a bag of jalapeno kettle chips, and a bad temper? One would think that you get either:

A. A trip to the hospital
B. A trip to the hospital
C. A trip to the shitter
D. All of the above

If you answered any of those, you are wrong, at least in the case of what happened to Danger. The only thing he got was a mild stomach ache, followed by the worse temper tantrum the world had ever seen. Think of Godzilla with bad gas and no Mylanta, but in this case, an angry, drunk, and very in-digested man with nothing to lose. Drama queen would be a good way to describe this person, as the cast of General Hospital would be jealous. Danger actually went around the kitchen, throwing food from the pantry at me, followed by some silverware, which happened to bounce off of my chest and in to the glass I was holding. My granola bars never recovered. The real danger (no pun intended, well, maybe a little) came about when he started throwing half-full two liter bottles of Minute Maid lemonade at me. I was less concerned about the impact of the bottles on my head, and more concerned that I could be covered in the horrible abomination of a beverage that is Minute Maid lemonade. After terrorizing the kitchen which should have relieved the pain of the stomach ache (if you know a better cure, please let me know), Danger went completely spastic, grabbing the counter and shaking his body up and down exclaiming, "It hurts! It hurts so bad!"

Some Tums, a ginger pill, and fifteen minutes later, Danger finally recovered from his tummy ache. He felt no remorse for almost impaling me with silverware, and continued to the drink the rest of the night at a party we ended up going to. With that said, he ate three chicken sandwiches at McDonalds and puked them up.

We call this in the Danger household, Tuesday.

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Classy Security

Picture this: You are a man or a woman of the law and you've been hired to maintain order and justice throughout the land.  You are the keeper of peace.  One day you wake up at your desk and realize that you are a rent-a-cop with not even a mag-light as a weapon (or an ounce of respect from those around you).  Just as you thought it could not get any worse, one of your friends points out that your badge has a set of balls on it.  While some men like to "wear their manhood on their sleeve", you seem prefer to have a set of balls proudly displayed on your chest.  You are the classiest security guard in the land!

Balls Security

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Classy Brewery

In my many travels around the U.S. I've been to many states and many places.  Most of those places I've been to usually involve me seeking beer, finding beer, and then drinking beer.  Let's face it, beer is classy, it makes you classy, it makes your friends classy, and it's usually the catalyst of most classy behavior.  I mean hey, if wrestling in the middle of the bar with your friends isn't classy, I don't know what is.

Now there are many bars, pubs, clubs, etc. that are classy, but how can you be sure you're in a truly classy bar?  Well, take a tip from our friends at Fort Street Brewery in Lincoln Park, MI.  If you haven't been to Lincoln Park, I highly suggest it, as the females of LP love to wear pajama pants at all hours of the day.  Since Fort Street Brewery makes their own beer (duh!) they get to name the beer (duh, again!).  The following title defines their latest classy brew, "Women drink fruit beer and lose their panties! Film at 11!" Not only is this title as classy as the inhabitants of LP, but it's written in giant pink letters on the chalk board for for everyone to see.  They obviously want to show the world how classy their brew is and keep people coming back for more.

I don't know about anyone reading this post, but I know where I'll be when this fine specimen of a beer is available to the public!

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Staying Classy Vegas-Style

Waitress (deeply concerned):
“Is she breathing?”

Grundle (giggling):
“Yes she is.”

“Meh.” (turns and leaves)


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Classy Cougars

Some of yours truly on took a trip out to Cleveland to hang out for the night. Towards the end of the night we stumbled in to an Irish pub to catch the last call. I think we picked the one bar in town where all of the trashy looking and desperate middle-aged married or engaged women hang out, because we did not see any attractive women in there, let alone any under the age of 35. It was important to keep the eye contact to a minimum to avoid any unnecessary drunken conversation from these classy women, especially since I was not drinking much that night and was not very tolerant of the more alcohol-enriched locals. I was not looking to spark any form of communication with these belligerents. The other folks in my entourage made the mistake of making just the slightest eye contact across the bar, a dangerous mistake when factoring in the low light and beer goggles effect. Like a mouse on a sticky trap full of peanut butter, three classy women made their way over and clung on to the closest male with a pulse. To put things in to perspective, even Classy Lee himself was not digging the situation. One of the bartenders made mention that one of the ladies in particular has been on a mission all night trying to get a guy to take her home. She was wearing an engagement ring, so that is a sure sign of a woman who is comfortable with her life and relationship. Even after the bar was officially closed it took about twenty minutes to peel them off to get out of there. Those women were on a mission, and so help the unlucky men who fell for those traps. We all made it out without any problems. I spent most of the time avoiding everyone anyway.

On the way back, Classy Lee made a brilliant observation:

"Those women were not cougars. They were more like stray cats."

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Classy Linguistics

Can you punch him in the grundle for me?

But I am Grundle.

Oh, one of my friend's wives said "I wanted to grundle punch him" the other day.
I laughed.


How about "fist" as a verb?

As in "I will fist-punch you in the anus"?
Said that to Jackie last night.
Then we got on this weird tangent of her being like a Muppet with my arm buried elbow deep in her rectum...

I'll allow it, if that's your thing.

You don't know love until you have had poopy-fist.

What's that cost on Michigan Ave.?

Crackhead or straight-up skank-ho?

You know, whatever.
Depends on if I have any rocks to trade.

$12.50 with 1 bump.

Well, I know what I'm doing after work.

You wanna just give me the $12.50 now?



Classy Colleagues

"I'm working at the Delta Skyclub in the airport. I went to get a beer and some old jackass sitting by me wouldn't move and made go around him. When he got up to go to the bathroom I farted on all of his stuff at his cubicle."

"Very Classy".

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Classy Observation

It is always classy to speak your mind no matter who you may offend.  Upon seeing a large person walk into the grocery store, Classy Lee follows with,

"Looks like someone is not malnourished."

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