Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Who needs enemies

JoAnn was a busy housewife with a demanding husband, six children and a large house. The only relief JoAnn got from her chores was the twice-a-week bridge game she shared with a dozen other women.
The only flaw in the bridge club relationship was that JoAnn loved to tell off-color stories and the girls didn't want to hear them.
To teach JoAnn a lesson, the other women decided that the next time she told an off-color story, they'd just get up, walk out, and meet at another home but without her.
Sure enough, at the next bridge club meeting, JoAnn started, "You know, girls, there's a rumor going around that a busload of prostitutes will be leaving in the morning for that big gold find up in Alaska, and they say . . . " Just then, the women all stood up and started for the door.
JoAnn was disconcerted, but only for a moment. Then she understood what was going on and said, "Hey! Girls! Hold on, hold on! There's plenty of time because the bus doesn't leave until morning!"

Thursday, November 18, 2010

I'm not going away

I just won't be posting.

The company I work for

is merging with

so I'll either be moving to Scranton...

...or, if they catch me blogging, looking for employment.

Maybe I can open a noodle shop and call it.

...until sometime before next year and my batteries are recharged.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

This is not a true story and it will not give you the chills

A Navy Chief and an Admiral were sitting in the
barbershop. They were both just getting finished
with their shaves--the barbers were reaching for
some after-shave to slap on their faces.

The admiral shouted, "Hey, don't put that stuff
on me! My wife will think I've been in a cathouse!"

The chief turned to his barber and said, "Go ahead
and put it on. My wife doesn't know what the inside
of a cathouse smells like.

NOTE: Admirals don't go to barbershops. Barbershops come to Admirals... so it was probably really a senior Lieutenant or Lieutenant Commander.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

New Bra

Dr. Calvin Rickson, a scientist from Texas A&M University has invented a bra that keeps women's breasts from jiggling, bouncing up and down, and stops nipples from pushing through the fabric when cold weather sets in.

At a news conference, after announcing the invention, a large group of men took Dr. Rickson outside and kicked the $#!* out of him.

Monday, November 15, 2010

This is a true story and it will give you the chills.

This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well worth the read.
At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa. I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also had my share of what I call 'musically challenged' pupils - one such pupil being Robby.
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavour. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all my students to learn. Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed hopeless; he just did not have any inborn ability.
I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.
Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?' Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No. 21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys; they even danced nimbly on the ivories He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it?' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... Remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well..... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.'
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy.... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably wondering which people on your address list aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference! So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice -Do we act with compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in the process?

You now have two choices: 1. Delete this; OR 2. Forward it to the people you care about. You know the choice I made. Thank you for reading this. May God Bless you today, tomorrow and always? If God didn't have a purpose for us, we wouldn't be here!

Now for the rest of the story. Don't think for one damn minute that I wasn't moved by the story.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


(A customer comes in, clearly inebriated, and orders a chili. We get it for him, he sits down but a couple of minutes later he comes back up to the counter.)

Customer: “I think my chili is still frozen.”

Me: “Are you sure? It should be quite hot.”

Customer: “I’ll show you.”

(He gets the chili and attempts to put his spoon in it.)

Me: “Sir, the lid is still on.”

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Job interview

Denise a manager at Wal-Mart had the task of hiring someone to fill a job opening.. After sorting through a stack of 20 resumes she found four people who were equally qualified. Denise decided to call the four in and ask them only one question. Their answer would determine which of them would get the job.

The day came and as the four sat Around the conference room table, Denise asked, 'What is the fastest thing you know of?'
The first man replied, 'A THOUGHT.' It just pops into your head. There's no warning.

'That's very good!' replied Denise. 'And, now you sir?', she asked the second man.
'Hmmm......let me see 'A blink! It comes and goes and you don't know that it ever happened.. A BLINK is the fastest thing I know of.'
'Excellent!' said Denise. 'The blink of an eye, that's a very popular cliche for speed.'

She then turned to the third man, who was contemplating his reply...
'Well, out at my dad's ranch, you step out of the house and on the wall there's a light switch.. When you flip that switch, way out across the pasture the light on the barn comes on in less than an instant. 'Yip, TURNING ON A LIGHT is the fastest thing I can think of'.
Denise was very impressed with the third answer and thought she had found her man. 'It's hard to beat the speed of light,' she said.

Turning to Bubba, the fourth and final man, Denise posed the same question..
Old Bubba replied, 'After hearing the previous three answers, it's obvious to me that the fastest thing known is DIARRHEA.'
'WHAT!?' said Denise, stunned by the response...
'Oh sure', said BUBBA. 'You see, the other day I wasn't feeling so good, and I ran for the bathroom, but before I could THINK, BLINK, or TURN ON THE LIGHT, I had already shit my pants.'

BUBBA is now the new greeter at a Wal-Mart near you!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Uh, oh!

Somebody memed Suldog.
That's not the issue.
The issue is that he's not threatening mayhem. His exact words were, "...I'll probably cut Phyllis some slack and be nice."
I'm worried that maybe he's mellowing as he ages.
He'll probably start writing poetry next... Sheesh!

Monday, November 8, 2010


well, it's a keeper

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.
I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.
How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word 'refrigeration' mean nothing to you?
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched 'Jeopardy' on television?
I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , 'How about going to lunch in a half hour?' She would gas up and stammer, 'I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain' And my personal favorite: 'It's Monday.' She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches.. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!
We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.
Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of 'I'm going to,' 'I plan on,' and 'Someday, when things are settled down a bit.'
When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now...go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to...not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
Make sure you read this to the end; you will understand why I sent this to you.
Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask 'How are you?' Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say 'Hi'?
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away.... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.
'Life may not be the party we hoped for... but while we are here we might as well dance!'

Friday, November 5, 2010

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Dona Nobis Pacem

Found the idea here and the explanation here.

It beats having to come up with something original

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

A reminder

The political ads were hardly gone and I saw my first Christmas commercial. So I'm reminding the media and the merchants that I am going to keep track of just who isn't remembering that:

Suldog agrees that informational pickets aren't entirely out of the question.

Afterthought: there was an election. I'm not going to comment ...Yet!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

'nuff said

Now we can get ready for Thanksgiving

Monday, November 1, 2010

Sometimes it doesn't pay to open email

Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber. He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, 'You died in your sleep, Bob.'
Bob was stunned. 'I'm dead? No, I can't be! I've got too much to live for. Send me back!'
St. Peter said, 'I'm sorry, but there's only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken.'
Bob was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home.... The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking and pecking the ground.
A rooster strolled past. 'So, you're the new hen, huh? How's your first day here?'
'Not bad,' replied Bob the hen, 'but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I'm gonna explode!'
'You're ovulating,' explained the rooster. 'Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before?'
'Never,' said Bob.
'Well, just relax and let it happen,' says the rooster. 'It's no big deal.'
He did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! He was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg -- his joy was overwhelming.
As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard.....

"BOB, wake up! You shit the bed!"

Getting OLD just ain't what they said it would be!

...or to post really lame jokes, either?

Robin gifted me this

...and this, too!

Robyn gifted me this

Apryl presented this one


from Uncle Skip

An award

An award
From A Daft Scots Lass

"...you magnificent ba$tard!"

"...you magnificent ba$tard!"
from Ol' AF Sarge

Put it back where it started!!!

copy this

copy this
stick it anywhere

set things right