The radio

Another one from Teresa. (btw, T, thanks for the jokes … I needed these!)

This will warm your heart, especially if you have lost faith in human kindness.

This letter was sent to the principal’s office after an elementary school had sponsored a luncheon for the elderly. An old lady hadreceived a new radio at the lunch as a door prize and was writing to say thank you:

Dear Faculty and Students,

God bless you for the beautiful radio I won at your recent senior citizens’ luncheon. I am 84 years old and live at an Assisted Living Home for the Aged. All of my family has passed away. I am all alone now and its nice to know someone is thinking of me. God bless you for your kindness to an old forgotten lady.

My roommate is 95 and always had her own radio. Before I received this one, she would never let me listen to hers, even when she was napping. The other day, her radio fell off the night stand and broke into a lot of little pieces. It was awful and she was in tears. She asked if she could listen to mine, and I said “Fuck you.”

Thank you for that opportunity,

Sincerely,
Agnes

Jumping on the bed

Courtesy of Teresa:

A woman was at home, happily jumping on her bed and squealing with delight, when her husband walked in. He stood, watching her for a while, then asked, “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look? What’s the matter with you?”

The woman continued to bounce on the bed and said, “I don’t care. I just came from having a mammogram, and the doctor says I have the breasts of an 18-year-old.”

The husband then asked, “What did he say about your 56-year-old ass?”

“Your name never even came up,” she replied.

This is my emo

I haven’t written a whole lot of ~personal~ stuff lately … several reasons why, few of which I feel like getting into tonight. So mostly I’ve just been taking out my aggression in UT.

I had plenty to write about when I first sat down to write (type), that was 4 hours ago … and a phone call put me in this mood and I don’t feel arsed to do much except play more UT and listen to angry music.

Yesterday I call my dad to wish him a happy birthday. I mean, fuck, he hasn’t spoken to me in a month, this shit is ridiculous. And it was the most polite, FORCED, conversation we’ve ever had. Honestly, I think we talked more about how I fucked up my finger than anything else … if you call him lecturing me “talking.”

I spoke with my mother earlier today and she asked me to give them a call tonight to set up a date/time for dinner for my brother’s birthday, which is tomorrow. So I called them after I got home from work and Dad starts off immediately on the defensive, saying that he wants the dinner to be “just us” — meaning that Jim was not invited. The chicken pot pie of it is that we went back and forth over this bullshit, he wouldn’t tell me why Jim wasn’t welcome, the only thing I got was that Dad is upset because I made “some decisions” that he doesn’t agree with — but would NOT tell me what they were! I asked, and he side-stepped it every time … from “I don’t want to argue about this” to “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you”

:shock: What the fuck?

So I guess I’m not going to my brother’s birthday dinner tomorrow night. It’s the first time in … well, actually, ever. Gee, my birthday is in 2 weeks … I wonder if Jim is invited to it?

It’s been plain to me that he’s upset … but he won’t say about WHAT. I know he’s GOT to be pissed still about Jim getting into it with him, but he won’t own up to that either. And I know he’s upset because I got a new car, and didn’t involve him — or didn’t bend his way and buy Jeremy’s old car from them. Oh, and I’m sure Jim proposing to me didn’t make him any happier … what the fuck!? For over a year I get the “Why aren’t you married” routine, and now … crickets?

I had hoped that the flowers I sent Mom and Dad for their anniversary a few weeks ago would have been a large enough olive branch, but I can see now that I could’ve sent the whole fucking tree and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Something Jeremy said to me recently keeps flittering around my head: no matter which way this goes, it’s going to be ugly.

Understatement of the year.

So yeah, I’m a little emo lately … and a bit anti-social. I’ve had a lot of things swirling around me. I’ve felt like a hairball clogging the shower drain.

You wanna know what pisses me off most? I made the mistake of asking Dad for advice, and what happened? He tried to turn the situation around so he would be in control again. What a fucking surprise.

Just once I just wish he could be supportive me and be happy for ME … with no fucking strings attached, emotional or otherwise.

But it hasn’t happened yet, and quite frankly I’m done trying. I’ve swallowed my pride too many times and given in to what he wanted rather than to go on and live my life for myself and go for what *I* want. I’m done with that, and he will have to deal with it — or in the end he will be the one missing out.

Or at least I’ll keep telling myself that.

I’ve fumed, I’ve cried, I’ve actually gone without breaking anything … hey, miracles do happen. I’ve tried to keep it together in front of Jim. He gets pissed off whenever Dad does or says something to upset me … actually, he always has, but he has never said anything to Dad about it until recently. It’s not fair to him, or Jessie. I love them both so much, but it hurts that my dad is ostracizing me for reasons that I can only guess. If it comes down to him vs Jim and Jessie, that’s no contest … and only a fool would try to force someone to make that kind of choice, because no good can come of it.

I mean, what is his motive? There’s absolutely nothing he can gain out of any of this. Honestly, someone please fucking enlighten my stupid country ass.

… and now I’m rambling …

So anyways, that’s my state right now … emotionally fucked up … and out of chocolate and alcohol … and broke ’til payday.

Ain’t life just a motherfucking worm-infested peach?

Small town life

Jessie and I had a busy day yesterday. We were up at the crack of dawn, had breakfast at Chick-fil-A, and met Jim’s mom to head to Oneonta for the day. Had a great day shopping in the business district and rode around looking at different houses. We ate lunch at Miller Drug Soda Shop. It’s one of those “old time” type soda shops that have had all of the original interior re-done so that it looks like something out of the 50′s.

The restaurant is only part of building, the other two sections are a gift shop and a pharmacy. I was looking around in the gift shop and spoke with the lady who ran it — it so happened that she knew my brother and loved only a couple of doors down from him. hehe, so she was nice enough to give me directions to his house. I had called him Friday and asked if he would be in town, and wanted to drop in to see him.

So we finished up shopping and browsing and I called Jeremy to let him know we were on our way over to invade his house. *g* He has a lovely home, built in the 20′s and restored by previous owners. From what Jeremy tells me, it was formerly owned by one of the city DA’s. I told him that we should start having our family Christmas gatherings up there. It felt good to see him doing so well. We talked about our folks and he asked about things going on with me and Jim, so it was good to be able to sit down and talk to him — something we hadn’t done in a long time.

I just hate that it’s so far north of us, or I’d visit more often. I loved the town, and honestly wouldn’t mind living in a place like that. Oneonta reminds me of “small town life” and of the type of things I enjoyed about growing up in Corner.

Maybe someday, but not now …

Website changes

I’m not quite done “fiddling” with it yet, but I’m pretty close I think. I’ve found a version of Theme Switcher for WordPress that will allow me to choose which themes to list (rather than all). It’s not by the original author, but whoever he is has done a fine job! I’ve re-enabled the Roll Tide theme and added a slightly customized version of my Jim’s Monkey theme as an 800×600-friendly alternative to those who would rather not view the larger other two themes.

I had put the sponsor links back up Friday, but removed them this morning because they were throwing the alignment off too much for both Firefox and IE. In fact, I removed them from all the themes … too much of a bother IMO. I might just have them listed on archive pages instead … not sure yet. I’m not making any money off them at all, so I might just leave them off altogether. *shrug*

My fae side…

Smurfed from DocJeff:

What type of Fae are you?

New Rules

Smurfed from the MobMentality forums:

New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There’s a reason you don’t talk to people for 25 years. Because you don’t particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.

New Rule: Don’t eat anything that’s served to you out a window unless you’re a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy’s chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout?

New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: lucky bastards.

New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you’re gay. If you’re a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you’re a grown man, they’re pictures of men.

New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here’s how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we’re done.

New Rule: There’s no such thing as flavored water. There’s a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket – water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That’s your flavored water.

New Rule: Stop f***ing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that’s square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.

New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a “decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n’-Low and one NutraSweet,” ooh, you’re a huge asshole.

New Rule: I’m not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing “Enter,” verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don’t want cash back, and pressing “Enter” again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.

New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn’t make you spiritual. It’s right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to “beef with broccoli.” The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren’t pregnant. You’re not spiritual. You’re just high.

New Rule: Competitive eating isn’t a sport. It’s one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What’s next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They’re already doing that. It’s called “The Howard Stern Show.”

New Rule: I don’t need a bigger mega M&M. If I’m extra hungry for M&Ms, I’ll go nuts and eat two.

New Rule: If you’re going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what’s playing on the other screens. Let’s remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn’t good enough to be a movie.

New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it’s for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn’t gift giving, it’s the white people version of looting.

New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can’t even tell if he’s supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. Don’t want to be on your webcam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.

New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don’t need to know in months. “27 Months.” “He’s two,” will do just fine. He’s not a cheese. And I didn’t really care in the first place.

Woman to Woman Encouragement

This is for the ladies close to me and dear to my heart. My good friend Teresa sent me this and I’ve always thought it was a pretty piece, so I’m sharing with y’all!

Someone will always be smarter. Their house will be bigger. They will drive a better car. Their children will do better in school. And their partners will fix more things around the house. So let it go and love you and your circumstances. Think about it. The prettiest woman in the world can have hell in her heart. And the most highly favored woman on your job may be unable to have children. The richest woman you know – she’s got the car, the house, the clothes – might be heartbreakingly lonely. So, love you. Love who you are right now.

Tell yourself, “I am too blessed to be stressed.”

“To the world you might be one person, but to one person you just might be the world.”

“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle.”

Voodoo Vince Pryor

Last weekend I was playing around with my digital camera while Jessie was playing Voodoo Vince on the XBox. It’s an adorable little game set in New Orleans about a voodoo doll brought to life by his mistress in order to rescue her from her kidnapper and arch nemesis.

Anyways, at one point during the game “Vince” catches fire and she has him running all over the place on the screen and she’s yelling “Help! I’m on fire, I’m on FIRE!”

At that point, I picked up the camera and started filming because it was SO FRIGGIN’ FUNNY! I instantly thought of Richard Pryor’s bit about his run-in with fire (light a match … what’s this? Richard Pryor running down the street).

If you don’t get that, you’re too young.

Pity my camera doesn’t have a mic — there’s no audio. But I still think it’s funny.

So I uploaded it to Google, and they finally approved it today.

Enjoy!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Today, my friends, we are all Irish. Drink up, eat, and be merry. :mrgreen:

I have been sitting and torturing my coworkers with several of my celtic traditions CDs, along with my collection of Irish punk drinking songs. *g*

I’d like to take a sec and wish a very Happy Birthday to Ransim. Hope it’s a good one sweetie!

I was sitting here looking up some funnies for today and ran across KidsDomain.com which had a lot of fun facts about today.

For instance:

So why do we all wear green?

Probably because you’ll be pinched if you don’t! School children started this tradition. Green is also the color of spring, the shamrock and is connected with hope and nature.

Neat. I didn’t know that.

And the History Channel website had a lot of cool factoids as well:

Did You Know?

There are 34 million U.S. residents who claim Irish ancestry. This number is almost nine times the population of Ireland itself (3.9 million). Irish is the nation’s second most frequently reported ancestry, trailing only German.

We’re like cockroaches, LOL. My grandmother winces whenever I say that, LOL. But honestly, I’m proud of my heritage.

And now … for a bit of humor!

 

Paddy was found dead in his back yard, and as the weather was a bit on the warm side, the wake was held down to only two days, so his mortal remains wouldn’t take a bad turn. At last his friends laid him in the box, nailed it shut & started down the hill into the churchyard.

As it was a long, sloping path and the mourners were appropriately tipsy, one fellow lurched into the gatepost as they entered the graveyard. Suddenly a loud knocking came from in the box. Paddy was alive!

They opened the box up and he sat up, wide eyed, and they all said, Sure, it’s a miracle of God! All rejoiced & they went back and had a few more drinks but later that day, the poor lad died. Really died. Stone cold dead.

They bundled him back into his box, and as they huffed and puffed down the hill the next morning, the priest said, “Careful now, boys; mind ye don’t bump the gatepost again.”

 

A young Irishman sat at a pub in the New World drinking beer and conversin’ with the barkeep. Another comes in and sits besides him. He says “How you do” and hears the lilt and says “you be Irish?”

“Yes I am.”

The first man yells “Barkeep, give us another round and one for my friend here he’s from the mother country as well.”

The second man asks “so where in the old country ye from?”

“Dublin” responds the first.

“Dublin you say – so am I!” and the second man hollers “Barkeep, bring us another round and a shot of your best Irish Whiskey for me and my friend here.”

Afterwards the first man asks “From where in Dublin?” and the second man responds with the street and the first man says “Well I’ll be – so am I!” and yells “Barkeep, another pair of beers and Irish Whiskey for the pair of us.”

The phone behind the bar rings and the barkeep answers it. The owner of the pub asks “How is business?”

The barkeep responds “Not too bad. The O’Malley twins are here getting drunk again.”

 

Concerning bagpipes: The Irish invented them and gave them to the Scots as a joke, and the Scots haven’t seen the joke yet.

 

As soon as she had finished parochial school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business. Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a Saturday night went to confession in the church which she had always attended as a child. In the confessional Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work. She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant. She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage.

She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of Father Sullivan, she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and backflips. Kneeling near the confessional, waiting their turn, were two middle-aged ladies. They witnessed Lena’s acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other: “Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin’ out this night, and me without me bloomers on!”

 

Q: What’s Irish and sits outside in the summertime?
A: Paddy O’Furniture!

(hehehe, Jessie loves that one)

 

An Irish man walks into a pub. The bartender asks him, “what’ll you have?”

The man says, “Give me three pints of Guinness please.”

So the bartender brings him three pints and the man proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they’re gone. He then orders three more.

The bartender says, “Sir, I know you like them cold. You don’t have to order three at a time. I can keep an eye on it and when you get low I’ll bring you a fresh cold one.”

The man says, “You don’t understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one in the States. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we’d still drink together. So right now, my brothers have three Guinness Stouts too, and we’re drinking together.

The bartender thought that was a wonderful tradition. Every week the man came in and ordered three beers. Then one week he came in and ordered only two. He drank them and then ordered two more.

The bartender said to him, “I know what your tradition is, and I’d just like to say that I’m sorry about the loss of one of your brothers.”

The man said, “Oh, me brothers are fine – I just quit drinking.”

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