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valpal59 
Posted: 04-Feb-2009, 02:33 PM
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DEPORT HER TO AMERICA !!







The Rambo Granny of Melbourne, Australia
Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when two thugs raped her 18-year-old granddaughter that she tracked the unsuspecting ex-cons down - - and shot off their testicles.

The old lady spent a week hunting those men down -- and when she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way, said Melbourne police investigator Evan Delp. Then she took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant's desk and told him as calm as could be: 'Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.'

Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth , 33, lost both his pe*** and his testicles when outraged Ava opened fire with a 9-mm pistol in the hotel room where he and former prison cell mate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up.

The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas' testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled pe***, police said. The one guy, Thomas, didn't lose his manhood, but the doctor I talked to said he won't be using it the way he used to, Detective Delp told reporters. Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they're just happy to be alive after what they've been through.

The Rambo Granny swung into action August 21 after her granddaughter Debbie was carjacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row. "When I saw the look on my Debbie's face that night in the hospital, I decided I was going to go out and get those bastards myself 'cause I figured the Law would go easy on them," recalled the retired library worker. "And I wasn't scared of them, either-- because I've got me a gun and I've been shooting' all my life. And I wasn't dumb enough to turn it in when the law changed about owning one."

So, using a police artist's sketch of the suspects and Debbie's description of the sickos', Tough-as-nails Ava spent seven days prowling the wino-infested neighborhood where the crime took place till she spotted the ill fated rapists entering their flophouse hotel.

I knew it was them the minute I saw 'em, but I shot a picture of 'em anyway and took it back to Debbie and she said sure as hell, it was them, the oldster recalled.

So I went back to that hotel and found their room and knocked on the door and the minute the big one, , opened the door, I shot 'em right square between the legs, right where it would really hurt 'em most, you know. Then I went in and shot the other one as he backed up pleading to me to spare him. Then I went down to the police station and turned myself in.

Now, baffled lawmen are trying to figure out exactly how to deal with the vigilante granny. What she did was wrong, and she broke the law, but it is difficult to throw an 81-year-old woman in prison, Det. Delp said, especially when 3 million people in the city want to nominate her for Mayor.

DEPORT HER TO AMERICA --- WE NEED HER !!







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valpal59 
Posted: 04-Feb-2009, 02:53 PM
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Cemetery Gate

I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am,may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.

'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.

She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

' Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'

I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.'

'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X.Davidson, USMC, 1943.

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.

She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.

'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all marines.'

She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.

I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.

'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have something I've got to do.'

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post.

When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.
She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.

I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.






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piobmhorpiper 
Posted: 05-Feb-2009, 09:57 AM
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QUOTE (valpal59 @ 04-Feb-2009, 02:33 PM)
DEPORT HER TO AMERICA !!

And when you are done with her send her up to Canada!


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The Scots of course insist that the pipes produce music. But the point is after all not too important. For those who love them, the pipes can evoke more vividly than any other instrument, high emotion, they can inspire valor, and tell of tragic tales of battles long ago. They can call forth merriment or sentiment. It does not matter what the sound is called, those who are deaf to its merits would not understand anyway.
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valpal59 
Posted: 08-Feb-2009, 09:19 AM
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What is Butt Dust???

What, you ask, is 'Butt dust?' Read on and you'll
discover the joy in it!

These have to be original and genuine No adult is this
creative!!


JACK (age 3) was watching his Mom breast-feeding his
new baby sister . After a while he asked: 'Mom why have you got two? Is
one for hot and one for cold milk?'

MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was .
Granny replied she was so old she didn't remember any more . Melanie said,
'If you don't remember you must look in the back of your panties .
Mine say five to six . '

STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his Mom good night . 'I
love you so much that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my
bedroom window . '

BRITTANY (age 4) had an ear ache and wanted a pain
killer . She tried in vain to take the lid off the bottle . Seeing her
frustration, her Mom explained it was a child-proof cap and she'd have to
open it for her . Eyes wide with wonder, the little girl asked: 'How does
it know it's me?'

SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the
hiccups . 'Please don't give me this juice again,' she said, 'It makes my
teeth cough . '

DJ (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked:
'How much do I cost?'

MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were
hugging and kissing in a restaurant . Without taking his eyes off them, he
asked his dad: 'Why is he whispering in her mouth?'

CLINTON (age 5) was in his bedroom looking worried .
When his Mom asked what was troubling him, he replied, 'I don't know
what'll happen with this bed when I get married . How will my wife fit in
it?'

JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story . His dad
read: 'The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the
city but his wife looked back and was turned to salt . ' Concerned, James
asked: 'What happened to the flea?'

TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an
elderly, rather wrinkled woman her Mom knew . Tammy looked at her for a
while and then asked, 'Why doesn't your skin fit your face?'

The Sermon I think this Mom will never forget . . . .
this particular Sunday sermon . . . 'Dear Lord,' the
minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on
his upturned face . 'Without you, we are but dust . . . ' He would have
continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter who was listening
leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little four year
old girl voice, 'Mom, what is butt dust?'
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Camac
Posted: 08-Feb-2009, 12:27 PM
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Just goes to show you that you don't want to mess with an "Aussie Shielah" blow you unmentionables off. Good for her they ought to give her a medal at least.


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valpal59 
Posted: 27-Feb-2009, 10:41 AM
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Just had to share this.

Val

Michael's Night
True Story -- Worth
Reading!!!

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines , Iowa . I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have taught some talented students.

However I've also had my share of what I call 'musically challenged' pupils. One such student was Michael. Michael 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 Michael.

But Michael said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Michael began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Michael tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary 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'd always say, 'My mom's going to hear me play someday.' But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Michael off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Michael stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Michael (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing 'Miss Hondorf I've just got to play!' he insisted.

I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Michael up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would 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 Michael came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. 'Why didn't he dress up like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?'

Michael pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #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 people 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 Michael in joy. 'I've never heard you play like that Michael! How'd you do it? ' Through the microphone Michael explained: 'Well Miss Hondorf . .. Remember I told you my Mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning And well . . She was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.'

There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Michael from the stage to be placed into foster care, noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Michael as my pupil.

No, I've never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . . Of Michael's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil for it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.

Michael was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.

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jayhenson 
Posted: 27-Feb-2009, 11:53 AM
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On the subject of "kids say the darnedest things..."

My 5yo nephew was over at my parents (his grandparents on his moms, my sister, side) house when I stopped by to visit. He is fairly rambunctious and likes to wrestle and roughhouse like any 5yo (he is a HUGE fan of Pokemon and Bakugan and such). He was in my mom's lap and was starting to get too playful so my mom said he couldn't wrestle around with her. He asked "why..is it because you're too old?" We all chuckled as mom (who is 63) politely explained that it was because she was all soft and gentle like a loving grandma. He thought about that and said, innocently and matter-of-factually " well, you look old". We all laughed and he hopped in my lap as I am always a good source of roughhousing for him. Mom then asked "well, what about Uncle JayFrog (my name, for which there is a story for another day), isn't he too old? He got out of my lap, walked over to my 67yo father and started rubbing the wrinkled skin on his hand and said, "no, he doesn't have this kind of skin yet.."

He is so freakin smart and observant that is is scary sometimes....

Peace

Jay (a.k.a. Uncle JayFrog)
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Perkeo 
Posted: 27-Feb-2009, 04:49 PM
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Stupid Tickets

A good Samaritan who helped push three people out of the path of a pickup truck before being struck and injured has gotten a strange reward for his good deed: A jaywalking ticket.

Family members said 58-year-old bus driver Jim Moffett and another man were helping two elderly women cross a busy Denver street in a snowstorm when he was hit Friday night.

Moffett suffered bleeding in the brain, broken bones, a dislocated shoulder and a possible ruptured spleen. He was in serious but stable condition Wednesday.
The Colorado State Patrol issued the citation. Trooper Ryan Sullivan said that despite Moffett's intentions, jaywalking contributed to the accident.

Moffett had been driving his bus when the two women got off. In the interest of safety, he got out and, together with another passenger, helped the ladies cross.
Moffett's stepson, Ken McDonald, said the driver of the pickup plowed into his stepfather, but not before Moffett pushed the two women out of the way.
When he awoke in intensive care, he learned of the ticket. "His reaction was dazed and confused. I was a little angry," said McDonald.

The other man also was cited for jaywalking, while the pickup driver was cited with careless driving that led to injury. Sullivan said the two elderly women haven't been cited but the investigation is ongoing.



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Donajhi 
Posted: 04-Mar-2009, 11:44 AM
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Can I adopt "Rambo Grannie", Please..................


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DIOGENES HAS PASSED ME THE LANTERN, STILL LOOKING.....
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valpal59 
Posted: 10-Mar-2009, 09:26 AM
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Cancel your credit card before you die..........(hilarious!)

Now some people are really stupid!!!!
Be sure and cancel your credit cards before you die.

This is so priceless, and so, so easy to see happening, customer service being what it is today.

A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her for February and March for their annual service charges on her credit card, and added late fees and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00 when she died, but now somewhere around $60.00. A family member placed a call to Citibank.

Here is the exchange :

Family Member: 'I am calling to tell you she died back in January.'

Citibank: 'The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply.'

Family Member: 'Maybe, you should turn it over to collections.'

Citibank: 'Since it is two months past due, it already has been.'

Family MEMBER: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?'

Citibank: 'Either report her account to frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!'

Family Member: 'Do you think God will be mad at her?'

Citibank: 'Excuse me?'

Family Member: 'Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?'

Citibank: 'Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor.'


Supervisor gets on the phone:

Family Member: 'I'm calling to tell you, she died back in January with a $0 balance.'

Citibank: 'The account was never closed and late fees and charges still apply.'

Family Member: 'You mean you want to collect from her estate?'

Citibank: (Stammer) 'Are you her lawyer?'

Family Member: 'No, I'm her great nephew.' (Lawyer info was given)

Citibank: 'Could you fax us a certificate of death?'

Family Member: ' Sure.' (Fax number was given )


After they get the fax :

Citibank: 'Our system just isn't setup for death. I don't know what more I can do to help.'

Family Member: 'Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. She won't care.'

Citibank: 'Well, the late fees and charges will still apply.'

(What is wrong with these people?!?)

Family Member: 'Would you like her new billing address?'

Citibank: 'That might help...'

Family Member: ' Odessa Memorial Cemetery , Highway 129, Plot Number 69.'

Citibank: 'Sir, that's a cemetery!'

Family Member: 'And what do you do with dead people on your planet???'



(Priceless!!)
And you wondered why Citi is going broke and need the feds to bail them out!!


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valpal59 
Posted: 15-Mar-2009, 11:14 AM
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Love this



*Boat Compromise*

My friend wanted a boat more than anything. His wife kept refusing, but he bought one anyway. "I'll tell you what," he told her, "In the spirit of compromise, why don't you name the boat?"

Being a good sport, she accepted. When her husband went to the dock for his maiden voyage, this is the name he saw painted on the side: "For Sale."
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valpal59 
Posted: 15-Mar-2009, 11:21 AM
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Love Maxine.

This may be the best
Living Will I've Seen




I,__________________, being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means.

Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of pinhead politicians who couldn't pass ninth grade biology if their lives depended on it, or lawyers/doctors interested in simply running up the bills.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to ask for at least one of the following:

Glass of wine
Chocolate
Margarita
Sex
Martini
Cold Beer
Chocolate
Chicken fried steak
Cream gravy
Sex
Mexican food
Chocolate
French fries
Chocolate
Pizza
Sex
Ice cream
Cup of tea
Chocolate
Chocolate
Sex
Chocolate


It should be presumed that I won't ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my appointed person and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes, let the 'fat lady sing,' and call it a day!
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valpal59 
Posted: 15-Mar-2009, 11:28 AM
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A gynecologist had become fed up with malpractice insurance and HMO paperwork and was burned out. Hoping to try another career where skillful hands would be beneficial, he decided to become a mechanic.

He went to the local technical college, signed up for evening classes, attended diligently, and learned all he could.

When the time for the practical exam approached, the gynecologist prepared carefully for weeks and completed the exam with tremendous skill.

When the results came back, he was surprised to find that he had obtained a score of 150%.

Fearing an error, he called the instructor, saying, "I don't want to appear ungrateful for such an outstanding result, but I wonder if there is an error in the grade."

The instructor said, "During the exam, you took the engine apart perfectly, which was worth 50% of the total mark."

"You put the engine back together again perfectly, which is also worth 50% of the mark."

After a pause, the instructor added, "I gave you an extra 50% because you did it all through the muffler, which I've never seen done in my entire career.


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Camac
Posted: 15-Mar-2009, 11:33 AM
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valpal59;

Am old sailing buddy of mine said once that he was going to put one request in his living will and that was the morning after his first night in hospital if he woke up and junior wasn't at attention PULL THE PLUG as there is no sign of life.



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valpal59 
Posted: 18-Mar-2009, 11:37 AM
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This is me. wink.gif

My Forgetter!

Forgetter Be Forgotten

This is really cute

My forgetter's getting better,
But my rememberer is broke
To you that may seem funny
But, to me, that is no joke

When I'm 'here' I'm wondering
If I really should be 'there';
When I try to think it through,
I haven't got a prayer!

Oft times I walk into a room,
Say 'what am I here for?
I wrack my brain, but all in vain!
A zero is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say 'Hi' and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I say 'who the poop was that?'

Yes, my forgetter's getting better
While my rememberer is broke.
It's driving me plumb crazy
And that isn't any joke.

CAN YOU RELATE?
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