tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61955226559163842252024-02-06T22:30:44.313-05:00Soggy-Doggy-BloggyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.comBlogger299125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-2277681432289244902010-04-24T09:08:00.004-04:002010-04-24T11:49:31.730-04:00Surviving my childhood Part 2 AKA Dumpster Diving<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/S9L_nhvMMKI/AAAAAAAAAcI/PF2d17a4EzA/s1600/dumster+diving.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 101px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/S9L_nhvMMKI/AAAAAAAAAcI/PF2d17a4EzA/s320/dumster+diving.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463710352490115234" /></a><br />Don't feel sympathy for me yet, let me explain. It's not that kind of dumpster diving. When I was a kid, my mom and my grandmother both did "Trash for Cash" or refunding as they called it. For those of you unfamiliar with refunding, you turn in a UPC code(s) or box tops or full labels or whatever that particular manufacturer was requesting along with the rebate form and in 4-6 weeks, you get money. <br /><br />So.. my mom and granny weren't just occasional refunders, they were FANATICS! SO much so, out garage was tuned into a storage place for lack of a better word trash! (see <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2010/04/surviving-my-childhood-part-1.html">this post</a> for more about that) Boxes and boxes and boxes on shelves and shelves and shelves of trash. Boxes were all labeled so if a refund offer was requesting a box top from a box of crackers, she would know right where to look. <br /><br />Back to the point of this post before I forget it all together.<br /><br />When I was with my mom, she was always on the lookout for anything she might be currently needing for a rebate. That meant, pulling over on the side of the road if she saw something. Depending on the road, she would send me or my brother out of the car to get it, or if it was a busy road, she'd get it herself. <br /><br />Sometimes, she would park behind a store and peek in the dumpster. If she say something she needed.. you guessed it, either my brother, cousin, or myself were boosted into the dumpster and displayed various boxes, bottles, labels..etc for their approval. <del> once, I saw a perfectly good half eaten sandwich while I was in there and pretended to be digging for more stuff for them while I ate it.</del> <br /><br />Then there were the coupons. Though that was not nearly as weird as the dumpster diving, it was still pretty hazardous. I had paper cuts to the billionth power form cutting them out, sorting, and throwing away the expired ones for her. I made the mistake of telling her how fun that was once... it became my job until I went on strike and refused to do it. <br /><br />So there you have it! Now that you have read those last 2 posts..it explains a LOT about me, doesn't it?<br /><br /><b:widget id='Gadget1' locked='false' title='Sociable' type='Gadget'/>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-78699311685132540362010-04-21T06:30:00.000-04:002010-04-21T06:34:03.849-04:00Surviving my childhood Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:kGtPzlGZs7A8jM:https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfmz6hCYsiyIWLbo7k7qdCkLgJG2r8KRztY9BSUTeAwqNA5Vtg-sOvvbWToTGwrbBEsZtBUWF3ub_jJ_nGtGsYcy80oyoG-1oLwLF2ZlTzXeUHh09kPkrr5TGhG0wb9MLRf_UFlQymlTF/s400/funny-b-w-bizarre-childhood-humor-words-text-1c282c91b7e37178e9c3205bd828a70c-h.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 123px;" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:kGtPzlGZs7A8jM:https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfmz6hCYsiyIWLbo7k7qdCkLgJG2r8KRztY9BSUTeAwqNA5Vtg-sOvvbWToTGwrbBEsZtBUWF3ub_jJ_nGtGsYcy80oyoG-1oLwLF2ZlTzXeUHh09kPkrr5TGhG0wb9MLRf_UFlQymlTF/s400/funny-b-w-bizarre-childhood-humor-words-text-1c282c91b7e37178e9c3205bd828a70c-h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I know we have our share of crazy stories to tell from childhood. Time to tell mine. <br /><br />My dad is a recovering alcoholic. He has been sober for about 14 years now. My mom worked at her own ceramic shop full time. My dad also had a full time job. How he was able to go to work everyday still remains a mystery. <br /><br />As a kid, if my mom was working nights, like she sometimes did, it was up to my dad to watch my brother and I. He watched us through beer goggles, so we pretty much got to do whatever we wanted. Hell, even sober, he didn't really care what we did.<br /><br />He had some old collectors trucks in our back yard. He was going to restore them. You know.. someday. My brother, my cousin and myself would go in the back yard, which also served as a trash burning pit, and jump from top of truck to top of truck. We would also attempt to push each other in the fire. No one ever got hurt, thank God, but we could have. <br /><br />When we got older, my dad used to let us drive the old Vega station wagon. On our street which was never very populated (unlike now) My brother, who is 3 years older than I, would drive, and I would ride on the roof holding on to the luggage rack. Don't worry, my dad was in the passenger seat, so it was OK!<br /><br />When I was 12, my dad let me drive. My brother rode on the roof. As I was pulling into the driveway, I got mixed up with the gas and brake, so as I approached the pine tree I panicked and floored the <del>brake</del> gas pedal. I heard my brother all 'George-of-the-Jungle' like "watch out for that tree" But, it was too late. I hit it, not with full force because somehow I managed to let off the gas before we hit.. maybe at 15 MPH. My brother was able to stay on the roof.<br /><br />When I was about 6, I was riding in one of my dads old cars. I can't remember what it was, but back then, there were no seatbelts.I was leaning against the door for whatever reason. The door wasn't shut tight. We went around a corner and you guessed it, I fell out of the car and rolled acrossed the road. Lucky for me, he was sober and we weren't driving very fast. Otherwise, he might have left me there. <br /><br />If one of us kids got hurt, dad's solution for anything bleeding was to pour alcohol on it. Straight from the bottle. So of course, after we got back to the house, he emptied half a bottle of rubbing alcohol on my wounds.<br /><br /> There is a big hill in my neighborhood (I still live on the same street I grew up on) I tied my Big Wheel to the back of my bike and my cousin and I took off for the hill. She rode the Big Wheel. We were going pretty fast down the hill when she fell off. Her foot got caught and I dragged her for about 25 feet before I realize those were screams of terror and pain, not of joy that I was hearing. We managed to get her back to the house where my dad "took care" of the wounds. My cousin hated him for a while.<br /><br />If my mom was home and he was passed out (though just yesterday he claimed he was exhausted and sleeping) with a beer in his hand, my mom would show us how to take the full beer can from his limp hand and dump it in the sink and return it without waking him up. That became our nightly entertainment. We would also find his beer that he would hide from Mom and "dump" it. Sometimes it was a 12 pack, sometimes just a 6. Needles to say, as teenagers, we were popular with the neighborhood kids when we found the beer in the woods.<br /><br />Hide and seek was always fun. We played in the house. My dad would help one of us climb into the attic. No stairs or ladder, just shelves that my mom used for her "trash for cash". But that's a whole other story, one for another blog post.<br /><br />He would help us climb the shelves so we didn't have to bother him anymore. He would help us climb into the top of the narrow linen closet. It was IMPOSSIBLE to find someone, because there was no light. If you giggled... you were toast.<br /><br />Dad also has a few poems that he could only recite when he was drunk, they were funny as hell, but I can't find them on the internet. One of my favorites is "Pierre Hunts the Skunk" absolutely hilarious, but as many times as I have heard it, I can't remember it. I am going to have to get him drunk one night so he can recite it, then I'll write it down<br /><br /><br />WOW! This post was longer than I intended it to be, but if you stayed to the end, thank you.<br /><br />I will post some of my "Mom adventures" another timeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-19345905588859472382010-04-20T06:00:00.000-04:002010-04-20T06:42:42.514-04:00My dad , his euphenisims and a nephrectomy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.etigazette.com/images/sectionPix/euphemism01.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.etigazette.com/images/sectionPix/euphemism01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /> My dad went into the hospital last Tuesday to have a nephrectomy.. or in layman's terms, a kidney removed. It was cancerous, but the Dr said there was no spread and since the other kidney is healthy, no need for chemo. Thank God for that!<br /><br /> Dad has a helluva sense of humor (another reason I know I'm not adopted) and he had everyone in pre-op and post-op in stitches.<br /><br />He was in the navy for 20 years and of course he has a lot of stories, antidotes and jokes to tell. NEVER is he at a loss for one of the 3 to share at any given situation. Dad was telling a story to a male nurse Mike, who kept calling him 'sir.' My dad told him, in the Navy, if he was addressed as 'sir' he would tell them "You don't have to call me sir, I'm no better than you." After telling the story, Mike called dad 'sir' (out of respect, not to be a smartass) Of course Dad said, "Get the wax outta your ears, didn't you hear the story I just told?" Mike laughed and changed the subject. "So you're a Navy man huh? What's the matter, the Army didn't want you?" My dad took a big breath, grinned and said, "No, it's not that, I was too damned intelligent for the Army" That brought a lot of laughs. Shortly after, they knocked him out. Coincidence? I think not!<br /><br />Surgery went well. After recovery, they wheeled him back to his room. The nurse were amazed! They couldn't shut him up and have never seen anything like him coming out of recovery. He was coherent, but they couldn't understand his euphemisms. They laughed politely to humor him though. They cracked up when I explained what he meant.<br /><br />As you may or may not know, they starve you and "clean your pipes" before surgery. So when he woke up, he told them "I feel like your belly button is gnawing a hole in my spine", or "My stomach feels like my throat's been cut, or my asshole is eating my underwear". When they asked me I said "Oh.. he's just going around his ass to get to his elbow to say ' I'm hungry' " About this time, they were ready to move us both to the 6th floor (psychiatric ward.) He would tell a joke about 2 bulls (he told it about 4,363,855,837,363 times) but I can't remember it. I think I blocked it out.<br /><br />They gave him a meal of solid foods right after the operation, which is dumb because it just blocked him up. (this hospital REALLY sucks) So after 4 days of him not being able to go #2, they decided to give him laxatives, suppositories and an enema. By yesterday he was "shitting 20 paces through a keyhole and not hitting the sides" He called me and said "I passed a BIG milestone a few minutes ago" I was laughing so hard "Is THAT what you call it?" <br /><br />I brought him home last night, hopefully he won't drive my step-mother crazy.<br /><br />There you have it, if you ever wondered about my humor, wonder no more.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-16074058638866362162010-04-18T08:00:00.003-04:002010-04-18T11:28:14.149-04:00Revelations ... no not of biblical proportions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.achildgrows.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/surprise1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 191px;" src="http://www.achildgrows.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/surprise1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I got my birth certificate in the mail last week and was <span style="font-size:130%;">horrified</span> to learn I was NOT adopted. I also learned that I was not born, but dispensed like a Pez candy. Not in a hospital, but in a Naval Weapons Center. Yes.. I can hear you all! It <span style="font-style: italic;">does</span> explain <span style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</span> you all have come to learn about me doesn't it? Seriously, on my birth certificate, it says "Place of Birth.. Dispensary", like I was a developed weapon or some shit. "Street address.. Naval Weapons Center. " Which happens to be in the middle of a desert on California. Growing up, I used to tell my friends that I was born in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Because that was the only named desert I knew.<br /><br />Why am I just now getting my birth certificate? My mom <span style="font-style: italic;">says</span> she gave me my birth certificate when I go married, but I don't remember, and I don't have it so I was just hoping against hope that I was indeed adopted. The problem with that theory is that I am too much like both of them <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> to be adopted. Now I am assuming it was my brother who was adopted, because he's not like any of us. I haven't seen his birth certificate though.<br /><br />Anyway, I was a dumbass at let my drivers license expire. I got online to renew it and guess what? You got it! It wasn't that easy. Due to the new Homeland Security laws put in place, you need so much more. In Florida, you need birth certificate, marriage license (if your last name changed), social security card (or a tax document showing SS number) 2 proofs of residence (state issued ID's wont work) you need a utility or mortgage bill, car or voters registration, bank statement etc.) I also didn't have (because I never ordered it) my marriage license. Luckily, you can order these documents <a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="https://www.vitalchek.com/home.aspx">on-line</a>, no matter what state you are in now, or in what state the event happened. Mine all came within a week of ordering them a day BEFORE my appointment. THAT, my friends is a miracle all in itself. I NEVER have that kind of luck. Before all of this happened, I was thinking about legally changing my name to 'Murphy Murphy Murphy' just to accommodate the law my life has been living. When I saw the paperwork required just to renew my license though, I quickly changed my mind.<br /><br />When I got to the DMV there was a long line ahead of me...SURPRISE! But I had an appointment. The 9 people in front of me, didn't have all the required documents they needed. <del>apparently they were dumbassses too</del> Then yell at the girl behind the counter. Lucky for her, I did all of my homework and came with all the right stuff. To watch her face when I gave her the blood, urine and stool samples was priceless.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">PS Go check out my<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><a href="http://thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com/">daughters blog.</a></span> She picked a helluva a topic to make her blog-comeback<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-52780776085896433432010-04-17T10:24:00.002-04:002010-04-17T10:37:55.894-04:00It's been so long I don't know if I remember how to blog.....and my blank post box is mocking me daring me to come up with something good. I've lost followers (can't say that I blame them) I have no good excuses as to why I stopped blogging, just really lame ones like "I'm working a lot of overtime" and "I'm addicted to a video game and Twitter."<br /><br /> But recently, I have discovered that I miss not just writing my blog, but reading yours as well. I miss all of you and I feel bad, especially when I see some of you on Twitter. Every time I see your names, I wonder "What I'm missing on their blogs today?" I used to blog at work, but we are understaffed and therefor VERY busy, so I can't do it there, I cant even write 140 charaters or less between calls.<br /><br />Well, enough excuses, I am going to promise to at least TRY to write at least one post a week and be a lot better at reading all of yours .<br /><br />That's what I was afraid of.. it's been so long, this isn't even funny.. well maybe tomorrow.<br /><br />Baby steps people baby stepsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-76415578488943034472009-11-04T07:39:00.005-05:002009-11-04T09:14:23.922-05:00could it be?I got up at 6:30 this morning to drive the 10 miles or so to Wally World to buy a new CD player for work, the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Wolfmother</span> CD and a new alarm clock for home. My Cd player that is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">relatively</span> new, doesn't always play all of my burned <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CDs</span>. The annoying and important part of the clock stopped working. You know, the part that makes that gawd-awful noise first thing in the morning....yeah... it doesn't make that noise anymore. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wolfmother</span> just kicks ass.. '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nuff</span> said.<br /><br />So, instead of playing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">CoD</span>4 (<a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/10/signs-of-addiction-to-1st-person.html">see my last post</a>) I got up at 6:30 showered, dressed and drove to Wally World. All the while, talking to myself, reasoning that "Dammit I deserve these things!" As I get closer, I begin talking myself OUT of these things. If anyone were to look in the car, they would surely think I had gone mad, arguing and yelling at myself in the mirror. By the time I got there, I had talked myself out of it ALL.<br /><br />I DON'T<em> need</em> a new CD player, there is always the only rock station Orlando has.. but it sucks. Besides if I beat on the CD player long enough, it WILL eventually play the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Cds</span>. Besides, Christmas is coming, money's tight; why not let someone get it for me? I don't<em> need</em> a new alarm clock; all of my animals as well as my internal clock usually wake be up WAY before I<strong> have</strong> to be up in the morning. Besides, once someone buys me the new player for Christmas <em>hint hint </em>the player I have here has an alarm that actually works, so I can just replace it. I don't <em>need </em>the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Wolfmother</span> CD, again, Christmas is coming and everyone in my family loves that band so surely <em>someone</em> will get it.<br /><br />So there I am 7:06 at the turn lane for Wally World. I turn in, then pull into the Chick-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Fil</span>-A parking lot instead; it's right next to Wally World. I place my order, get my total: $6.66. I pull around to the window (HA! I typed 'winder' first... damn Southern drawl) and told the girl there was a problem with my total. She thought she did something wrong a reassured me it was correct. I said, "Oh I don't doubt that, but its <strong>666.</strong> So I had her put on another coffee just to change the total. On my drive back I noticed the full or almost full moon in the sky.. good thing I had her change that total.<br /><br /><br />So essentially, I got up at 6:30am JUST to go to Chick-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Fil</span>-A <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">get</span> a 666 number and see that it was full moon.. Dammit I should have stayed in bed.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-3498805738714796262009-10-17T11:31:00.003-04:002009-10-17T12:20:44.405-04:00Signs of addiction to a 1st person shooter game<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/b2f247b4e95479ea"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 93px;" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/b2f247b4e95479ea" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />You may have noticed that I haven't posted in a week. This is because I work and when I come home, Call of Duty Modern Warfare sucks me in deep.<br /><br />You know you are addicted when:<br /><br /><ul><li>You stop blogging</li><li>You wake up and start playing</li><li>You stay up playing into the wee hours in the morning though you know you have to get up a few hours later to work</li><li>You dream about the game, the different maps and you wake up exhausted from all of the shooting and stabbing and killing you did all night while sleeping.</li><li>When you go outside and see something moving you think.. "I gotta shoot that!" </li><li>All of the real life scenery reminds you of a map in the game.</li><li>When walking into a real life building, you look for claymores or people crouching in the corner ready to destroy you.</li><li>When in face to face conversation with someone, you look above their heads to see if their names are green (friend) or red (enemy)</li><li>The slightest noise you hear that reminds you of a gunshot or a claymore going off or any signs of danger, you run and take cover under your bosses desk. </li><li>If there is helicopter flying around above your house, you can't help but wonder, "Is that their chopper or ours?" Then start looking for something to shoot it down out of the sky.</li><li>Your teenage kids beg you to stop playing because you have been on for 7 hours straight and they would like to play.</li><li>You wont let anyone else play until you get promoted.<br /></li><li>The only reason you are blogging is because the kids drugged you, took over the game and when you woke up you discover you are tied to your computer char with just enough mobility in your arms to type.</li></ul><br /><br />OK must go now, The Boy just signed off the game and is going to mow the lawn. At least <span style="font-style: italic;">SOMEONE</span> is being productive around here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-57767560220648829352009-10-12T14:00:00.001-04:002009-10-12T14:39:26.630-04:00Mad Lib Monday: Prom Night Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/0a0481366e2a636c"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 145px;" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/0a0481366e2a636c" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Today's post is a result of <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/10/reader-participation-sunday.html">yesterday's</a> post:<br /><br />One of the first and finest major horror films of all times was called <a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/">Mother Mary,<br /></a> about a teenage <a href="http://madmadmargo.blogspot.com/">snake</a> who was <a href="http://wtf249.blogspot.com/">wet.</a> She went to <a href="http://quint-weregonnaneedabiggerboat.blogspot.com/">Dizzblnd Academy for the Deaf, Dumb and Bloggerly Challenged</a> and she got good grades in <a href="http://mangogirlsramblings.blogspot.com/">weeds</a> and <a href="http://matteroffactsite.blogspot.com/">running,</a> but she was always behaving <a href="http://madmadmargo.blogspot.com/">objectively</a> and did not like her fellow <a href="http://wtf249.blogspot.com/">butt cheeks</a>. This is because they did not like her. They all thought she was <a href="http://mangogirlsramblings.blogspot.com/">pretty </a> and a <a href="http://moderationrecipes.blogspot.com/">politician.</a><br /><br />So at the end of her senior <a href="http://wildonioncafe.blogspot.com/">colon,</a> this girl was not invited to the <a href="http://madmadmargo.blogspot.com/">slippery</a> prom. All of the other students had dates and new <a href="http://wtf249.blogspot.com/">panties</a> to wear <span style="font-style:italic;">(who wears panties to a prom? hehehe)</span> But treated their classmate as if she were really <a href="http://mangogirlsramblings.blogspot.com/">pink.</a> And she behaved so <a href="http://fottsp.blogspot.com/">delightfully</a> it was horrifying.<br /><br />Thanks <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/10/reader-participation-sunday.html">everyone</a> for playing! I'll try to do it again next Sunday if I remember!<a href="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/e2dc6c035957dbb6"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-6254215365789580892009-10-11T14:45:00.002-04:002009-10-11T14:46:43.056-04:00Reader Participation Sunday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:CJAcN1fSscnzvM:http://dlcal.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/words1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; width: 129px; cursor: pointer; height: 86px;" alt="" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:CJAcN1fSscnzvM:http://dlcal.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/words1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />The rules are very easy so if you are still confused after all of this time or if this is your first time here please read:</span><br /><br />Here are the rules: On Sundays I will gather from you, my hopefully loyal stalkers and lost bloggers what I need to complete the Mad Lib. I won't tell you the title of the Mad Lib. It will simply say Reader Participation Sunday. <strong>I will ask my commenters for the required verbs, nouns, adjectives.. whatever. <em>EVERYONE will give me EACH word I ask for when they comment or else!</em></strong><em></em> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(for example, if I ask for 14 words, EACH of you give me EACH of the 14 words I ask.) </span>Then I will post the whole story with the title on Monday morning with links of the words to the respective blogger. Like <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/09/mad-lib-monday-tv-horror-show.html">this one</a><br />If you don't get a chance to play today, don't worry, I will do it every Sunday and Monday until you tell me you are ready to gouge your eyes out. So stay tuned.<br />Simple enough? Good.<br />For those that may have flunked English or forgotten everything you have learned.. Here is a refresher:<br /><br />Noun: Person, place or thing<br /><br />Plural noun: More than 1 person place or thing, usually ending in s or es<br /><br />Verb: An action word (etc run, jump, play)<br /><br />Verb ending in "ing": see above, just add ing (duh)<br /><br />Adjective: word that describes something (etc.. beautiful, quick, blue)<br /><br />Adverb: Word that ends in "ly" it describes a verb (etc, quickly, quietly, hurriedly)<br /><br />That's the basic English terms. If you've ever done Mad Libs, you know they ask for other things too. OK Got it? Here we go:<br /><br /><br />1. Female Person in room<br /><br />2. Something alive<br /><br />3. Adjective<br /><br />4. School<br /><br />5. Plural Noun<br /><br />6. Verb ending in 'ing'<br /><br />7. Adverb<br /><br />8. Plural Noun<br /><br />9. Adjective<br /><br />10. Silly word<br /><br />11. Noun<br /><br />12. Adjective<br /><br />13. Article of Clothing (plural)<br /><br />14. Adjective<br /><br />15. AdverbAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-29083311248462516082009-10-09T07:11:00.003-04:002009-10-09T07:25:13.134-04:00Happy Hour Friday<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPf0B-97LIxvw7pkxLszLdsBvtKxmrEG1QCkmIq_CdjJjIdVr1VjGorMcbrTQuXd2ZcskAF79_skMr0gOQApQSUBN82E8YCUJj52SlP_kaBypg8e4XiEw7GtL1wX6U4xE5yCDwyDQFM4/s320/HHF.jpg"><br /><br />I am happy that so many people made<a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/"> 1 man</a> feel like a million on his birthday yesterday. He truly is a great guy. I can say that without ever having met him. <br /><br />I am happy to know such wonderful people that live inside my computer. <br /><br />My pets make me happy. Especially my cat when she climbs on my lays down and purrs until I think her motor is going to break. I don't even have to pet her. She just loves me that much.<br /><br />hmmmmmmmm that's all I can think of this early. Maybe once at work I will think of more <br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www2.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=dizzblnd&postid=09Oct2009"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-80744185356962627872009-10-08T06:48:00.004-04:002009-10-08T07:13:28.216-04:00Something About OtinBlah, blah...blah, blah, blah, otin! Blah, blah, blah, BLAH ~ BLAH ~ BLAH! OTIN! Blah, blah, blah, otin <br /><br />What is it about <a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/">Otin?</a> Well if you have ever read his blog, you would know. <br /><br />These women know <br /><img src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/image/d9a842b7be7c489e"><br />They secretly Stalk him on a daily basis.<br /><br />These dirty women were on their way to pop naked out of his birthday cake when they got stuck in the mud <br /><img src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/6b58102162ce9184"><br /><br />She is thinking about him right now!<br /><img src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/79dba52772f6ab16"><br /><br />This one is coming to your house now to give you birthday spankings!<br /><img src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/ddbe5ee740514080"><br /><br /><br />HAPPY BIRTHDAY OTIN!<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www2.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=dizzblnd&postid=08Oct2009"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-28599233232306027962009-10-07T07:17:00.002-04:002009-10-07T07:21:29.444-04:00WTF is it?First I want to say thank you to all my loyal bloggy friends. You guys make me smile with your kind words. I appreciate your support<br /><br /><br />No time for a real post.. I got up late and gotta get ready for work.<br /><br /><br />I saw this commercial and it cracked me up! It will probably be banned soon, so I wanted you all to see it.<br /><br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MjMlyx6hzj8&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MjMlyx6hzj8&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />TTFNAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-47085271269666960302009-10-06T07:12:00.002-04:002009-10-06T09:47:02.982-04:00Blog Blahs<a href="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/e6ab7e0c4bf50256"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 93px; height: 145px;" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/e6ab7e0c4bf50256" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Just a post to let you all know I AM still alive. I know, I know, it seems like FOREVER since my last post. 3 days IS forever in bloggyland. I don't know why I haven't been posting or visiting any of you. I feel badly about it. Must be just a funk. I hope I get out of it soon. <br /><br />I have been blogging for almost a year, and that is about my attention span for any <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-not-addicted-ok-maybe-tad.html">new found addiction</a>. I don't think this means I will stop blogging altogether.. just maybe not as often. <br /><br />Anyway, I am at work, on break I just wanted to let you all know I am still kicking around.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-66582887182341217422009-10-02T15:30:00.001-04:002009-10-02T16:09:51.766-04:00Zombie Apocalypse Preparedness.. Quirky.. this one is for you!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/d26d3916cd6f6f78"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 89px;" src="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/d26d3916cd6f6f78" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Finally a comprehensive college certified Zombie Apocalypse disaster plan.<br /><br />Students at UCF (University of Central Florida) in Gainesville have come up with plan to deal with the inevitable. <br /><br />They put it in PDF form so that you can print it and have it with you at all times. <br /><br />Here's the <a href="http://www.cfnews13.com/uploadedFiles/Stories/Entertainment/Hey_John/Zombie%20Attack%20zbsd_exercise.pdf">link</a> <br /><br />*This plan includes identifying zombie outbreak characteristics:<br /><br />a. Disappearance of isolated citizens, initially in relatively remote areas;<br />b. Increasing numbers of gruesome unexplained deaths and disappearances, especially at night;<br />c. Identification of difficult to kill, flesh-eating perpetrators;<br />d. Recognition that the numbers of perpetrators is rapidly increasing and that those previously<br />identified as victims have reappeared as perpetrators;<br />e. Increasing isolation of survivors;<br />f. Breakdown of peace-keeping and medical services;<br />g. Documentation of lots of strange moaning.<br /><br />They include links to other agencies who have prepared<br />http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/boston-police-zombie-defense<br />http://io9.com/5286145/a-harvard-psychiatrist-explains-zombie-neurobiology.<br />(http://blogs.theelusivefish.com/madscience/2006/02/23/syracuse-universityand-<br />the-underground-zombie-studies/); Stanford University (see http://wwwformal.<br />stanford.edu/jmc/zombie/zombie.html)ong others.<br /><br /><br />There is also a form for you to fill out if you suspect someone is a Zombie<br /><br />INFECTED CO-WORKER DISPATCH FORM<br />Personal Information<br />Name: ___________________________________________________________ UFID: ___________<br />Work Phone: _________________ Work Address: _________________________________________<br />Work Department/Unit: _________________________________________________________________<br />Incident Information<br />Date of Incident: ___________________ Location: _________________________________________<br />This is to verify that at the time and place indicated above I was required to kill _____________________<br />(last name)<br />_____________________, UFID # _______________ because he / she was displaying the following<br />(last name) (if known)<br />symptoms of ZBSD, or Zombie Behavior Spectrum Disorder (check all that apply):<br />_____ headache <br />_____ fever<br />_____ chills<br />_____ other flu-like symptoms<br />_____ unresponsive to most stimuli<br />_____ moaning<br />_____ references to wanting to eat brains<br />_____ recently dead but moving again<br />_____ large areas of decaying flesh or open wounds<br />_____ lack of rational thought (this can cause problems confusing zombies with managers)<br />_____ killed and ate another employee: <br />_____________________________________________<br />(name and unit of other employee)<br />Based on these symptoms I killed <br />____________________________________________ using a:<br />(name of dispatched zombie)<br />_____ handgun _____ rifle<br />_____ shotgun _____ baseball bat<br />_____ chainsaw _____ piece of furniture<br />_____ explosive device - _________________________________________________________<br />(describe device)<br />_____ other - _________________________________________________________________<br />(describe)<br />Dispatching Employee Signature: _________________________________________________________<br />P a g e | 6<br />Witnessses:<br />_____________________ _____________________ ______________ ________________________<br />(last name) (first name) (UFID #) (unit)<br />______________________________________________________________<br />(witness signature)<br />_____________________ _____________________ ______________ ________________________<br />(last name) (first name) (UFID #) (unit)<br />______________________________________________________________<br />(witness signature)<br />_____________________ _____________________ ______________ ________________________<br />(last name) (first name) (UFID #) (unit)<br />______________________________________________________________<br />(witness signature)<br />DO NOT WRITE BELOW THIS LINE - TO BE COMPLETED BY UNIVERSITY ADMINISTRATION<br />Reviewed by: ________________________________________ _____________________________<br />(name) (title)<br />Dispatch is: _____ Approved<br />_____ Physical plant has been notified to send housekeeping for cleanup<br />_____ Employee has been sent additional ammunition (as appropriate)<br />_____ HR has been notified to stop salary payments to dispatched employee and victims (if any)<br />Dispatch is: _____ Not Approved<br />_____ Physical plant has been notified to send housekeeping for cleanup<br />_____ Employee supervisor has been notified to write letter of reprimand for employee file<br />_____ HR has been notified to stop salary payments to dispatched employee and victims (if any)<br />_____ This is a first offence [If this is a repeat offence, employee supervisor should be notified to initiate<br />termination procedures. Improperly dispatching UF employees shall receive little toleration.]<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />You must check it out to get the full benefit... before it's too late!<br /><br /><br />*All of this comes from the link provided. I did no write it nor am I taking credit for any of it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-28849057529692901492009-10-01T07:00:00.003-04:002009-10-01T21:41:37.411-04:00Sorry to see you go.....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/image/7dd89833771b6ed0"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 125px;" src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/image/7dd89833771b6ed0" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Yesterday at work my friend was telling me about her budget. Her and her husband sat down together and they figured out where a lot of their money was going. Food, mortgage, utilities.. you know, the usual. Then they started to realize that they were spending about the same money as they always have in all categories. So where was their money going... AH! "The Boy" (not mine.. theirs). $60 for a theme park, $140 for meds, $20 for movies.. you know.. typical 15 year old jobless child.<br /><br />After much discussion and long hours of debate, they came to a decision. <br />They sat down with him and broke the news.<br /><br />"Son, we have discovered that you are sucking us dry. Understand we do love you, but due to budget cuts, we're going to have to let you go"<br /><br /><br />That's right! They "laid off" their only offspring.<br /><br />BRILLIANT!<br /><br /><br />Why didn't I think about doing that myself? I could have saved myself thousands.<br /><br />If any of you still have jobless money sucking minions hanging around, I would suggest you do the same.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-55750262191151890862009-09-30T07:11:00.005-04:002009-09-30T09:23:18.289-04:00Wednesday Whatnots<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/07961f09f445bb96"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 88px;" src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/07961f09f445bb96" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I woke up yesterday thinking it was Wednesday. I even said "Happy Humpday" to my hubby after my first cup 'o coffee. I should have went back to bed when he gave me a funny look and said "uhhhhhh it's Tuesday." SHIT! The rest of the day sucked! My callers were assholes, we were understaffed and the system went down during our busiest hour. FUCK!<br /><br />Today isn't much better.. lets just say I woke up at 4:30 this morning with extreme intestinal malfunction. Yeah.. So far the Immodium hasn't kicked in .. sigh.<br /><br />Ok off to happier things if I didn't already lose you all.<br /><br /><br />I keep meaning to tell you about this childhood memory because it is a funny one.<br /><br />When <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/05/directionally-challenged.html">my cousin </a> and I were old enough to bathe ourselves without supervision.. we did. After we were done, we would pick the bath mats up from the floor, filled some of the toys up with water, empty them on the slippery when wet linoleum floors. Still nekkid, we would sit on the soaked floor, push off with our feet on the bathtub or wall and slide across the floor on our asses. Laughing and squealing permeated down the hall, into the living room and to my mom's ears. She busted open the bathroom door, yelled at us, then spanked our bare wet asses and made us clean up the mess. Did we learn? Hell no.. we were 7 or 8 we did it at least 2 more times before it got old.<br /><br />My dad "collected" old vans. When I say collected, I mean he bought them and they were left outside in the elements sided by side. If I recall, cause again, I was only around 7-9 years old, there were four of them. When my mom was gone, my dad would "babysit". When I say babysit, I mean he was passed out drunk and we could do whatever we wanted. So my brother, the above mentioned cousin and a few friends would go outside and jump from van roof to van roof. We also had an above-ground pool. We would balance around the edge of the pool to see who could go all the way around. <br /><br /><br />My mom would come home, yell at my dad, at us then send us to our rooms and send our friends home.<br /><br /><br />I find it amazing I survived my childhood.. I'll share more stories another timeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-69052991848316627122009-09-29T06:49:00.006-04:002009-09-29T07:41:15.989-04:00Happy Humpday Eve Funnies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHr0-8t5kI/AAAAAAAAAbg/lfpcQqdsd5I/s1600-h/Image1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHr0-8t5kI/AAAAAAAAAbg/lfpcQqdsd5I/s200/Image1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845924795213378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHr0W3rxqI/AAAAAAAAAbY/glwddJGydag/s1600-h/sense+of+humor.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHr0W3rxqI/AAAAAAAAAbY/glwddJGydag/s200/sense+of+humor.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845914036684450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrmRgXqHI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/aajlYYcmha4/s1600-h/file02225.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrmRgXqHI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/aajlYYcmha4/s200/file02225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845672078551154" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrl6HaNaI/AAAAAAAAAbI/GdjX9G_xNGs/s1600-h/file01618.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 191px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrl6HaNaI/AAAAAAAAAbI/GdjX9G_xNGs/s200/file01618.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845665799845282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrleUyZ2I/AAAAAAAAAbA/Ve8pg7mxxP0/s1600-h/file01517.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrleUyZ2I/AAAAAAAAAbA/Ve8pg7mxxP0/s200/file01517.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845658339764066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrlNgNTfI/AAAAAAAAAa4/R4EU8OUEECU/s1600-h/file01720.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 86px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrlNgNTfI/AAAAAAAAAa4/R4EU8OUEECU/s200/file01720.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845653824261618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrk2KXE4I/AAAAAAAAAaw/Lmjoeljyt_I/s1600-h/file01922.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 183px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrk2KXE4I/AAAAAAAAAaw/Lmjoeljyt_I/s200/file01922.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845647558611842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrLYa9vQI/AAAAAAAAAao/Yx7eI4-MW3c/s1600-h/file01821.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrLYa9vQI/AAAAAAAAAao/Yx7eI4-MW3c/s200/file01821.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845210078461186" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrKCUk3rI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/hJsueyQb1_0/s1600-h/file02124.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 172px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrKCUk3rI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/hJsueyQb1_0/s200/file02124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845186966216370" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrJvBTvOI/AAAAAAAAAaI/jvnabXQzeq4/s1600-h/omgwtf.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N2JFi02itQo/SsHrJvBTvOI/AAAAAAAAAaI/jvnabXQzeq4/s200/omgwtf.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386845181785128162" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-84063599148683512042009-09-28T06:00:00.002-04:002009-09-28T06:32:34.777-04:00Mad Lib Monday: A TV Horror Show<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/e2dc6c035957dbb6"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 96px;" src="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/e2dc6c035957dbb6" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Today's post is a result of <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/09/reader-participation-sunday-its.html">yesterday's</a> post:<br /><br />Last week I saw a television show that really gave me the <a href="http://areservationforsix.blogspot.com/">mole</a> pimples! It starred <a href="http://princessintraining202.blogspot.com/">Shreena</a> as a mad <a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/">gynecologist.<br /></a> who discovers a way to make bedbugs 14FT high. The scientist has a goofy assistant, played by <a href="http://boomergeekgirl.blogspot.com/">nobody,</a> who gets mad because the scientist keeps hitting him on the head with a <a href="http://mangogirlsramblings.blogspot.com/">cereal bowl.</a> So she lets the bedbugs loose. Right away they start to eat up <a href="http://areservationforsix.blogspot.com/">Alcatraz.</a> The army tries to stop them by spraying them with <a href="http://eternity-and-beyond.blogspot.com/">lemon tea,</a> but that doesn't bother those <a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/">creamy</a> bedbugs. They go right on and eat up Alcatraz. Then the army drops an atom <a href="http://boomergeekgirl.blogspot.com/">church</a> on them. This kills all but one super bedbug. It grabs the <a href="http://mangogirlsramblings.blogspot.com/">sour</a> scientist and jumps into a volcano. Then the goofy assistant takes off his disguise and says, " I was only a <a href="http://areservationforsix.blogspot.com/">carpet fiber</a> for the F.B.I." He marries the scientist's beautiful <a href="http://princessintraining202.blogspot.com/">iTouch,</a> who is played by <a href="http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/">Mr. Jones</a> and they live <a href="http://boomergeekgirl.blogspot.com/">happily</a> ever after.<br /><br /><br />Thanks <a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6195522655916384225&postID=1907546695711533572">everyone</a> for playing! I'll try to do it again next Sunday if I remember!<a href="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/e2dc6c035957dbb6"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-19075466957115335722009-09-27T10:00:00.001-04:002009-09-27T18:00:33.914-04:00Reader Participation Sunday.. It's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:CJAcN1fSscnzvM:http://dlcal.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/words1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; width: 129px; cursor: pointer; height: 86px;" alt="" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:CJAcN1fSscnzvM:http://dlcal.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/words1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />The rules are very easy so if you are still confused after all of this time or if this is your first time here please read:</span><br /><br />Here are the rules: On Sundays I will gather from you, my hopefully loyal stalkers and lost bloggers what I need to complete the Mad Lib. I won't tell you the title of the Mad Lib. It will simply say Reader Participation Sunday. <strong>I will ask my commenters for the required verbs, nouns, adjectives.. whatever. <em>EVERYONE will give me EACH word I ask for when they comment or else!</em></strong><em></em> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(for example, if I ask for 14 words, EACH of you give me EACH of the 14 words I ask.) </span>Then I will post the whole story with the title on Monday morning with links of the words to the respective blogger. Like <a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/04/mad-lib-monday-superstitions.html">this one</a><br />If you don't get a chance to play today, don't worry, I will do it every Sunday and Monday until you tell me you are ready to gouge your eyes out. So stay tuned.<br />Simple enough? Good.<br />For those that may have flunked English or forgotten everything you have learned.. Here is a refresher:<br /><br />Noun: Person, place or thing<br /><br />Plural noun: More than 1 person place or thing, usually ending in s or es<br /><br />Verb: An action word (etc run, jump, play)<br /><br />Verb ending in "ing": see above, just add ing (duh)<br /><br />Adjective: word that describes something (etc.. beautiful, quick, blue)<br /><br />Adverb: Word that ends in "ly" it describes a verb (etc, quickly, quietly, hurriedly)<br /><br />That's the basic English terms. If you've ever done Mad Libs, you know they ask for other things too. OK Got it? Here we go:<br /><br /><br />1. Animal<br /><br />2. Person in room<br /><br />3. Occupation<br /><br />4. Another person in the room<br /><br />5. Noun<br /><br />6. Place<br /><br />7. Type of liquid<br /><br />8. Adjective<br /><br />9. Noun<br /><br />10. Adjective<br /><br />11. Noun<br /><br />12. Noun<br /><br />13. Another person in the room<br /><br />14. AdverbAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-5675111912665909372009-09-26T17:00:00.000-04:002009-09-26T19:49:25.830-04:00Yes I am nuts! Why do you ask?Soooooooooooooo I started another blog. This one is to post book reviews for thomasnelson.com <br />It is called <a href="http://bibliophile-and-proud-of-it.blogspot.com/">Bibliophile and proud of it!</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-80021147786675721532009-09-25T07:00:00.004-04:002009-09-25T12:31:49.249-04:00I don't have a title for this postI was driving by my city's park yesterday when I saw this.<br /><br /><img src="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/image/bea0c48147ec1bdc"><br /><br />Near this<br /><img src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/46bca7f02c080c60"><br /><br /><br />I freaked out and got all paranoid because I did not see hide nor hair of the above mentioned state prisoners<br /><img src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/ecf4a23146c42204"><br /><br />Then I calmed down and thought that soon, I would see these guys looking for them<br /><img src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/804e832c28e6da7c"> <br /><img src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/9ac611314220a014"><br />in this<br /><img src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/edf6b69b77ca580a"><br /><br />and this<br /><br /><img src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/image/3b58a1a4ddb75122"><br /><br />When I didn't see any signs of a search team, I hauled ass out of that area only stopping to pick up a couple of guys hitchhiking that looked like this<br /><img src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/image/6f802443028d0bfe"><br /><br />What? They looked nice enough.<br /><br /><br />As soon they got in, I knew I had made a mistake. They weren't practicing for Halloween at all, believe it or not they were part of the "prisoners at work" crew.<br /><br />Who knew?<br /><br />You know what I did? I turned right around and drove them back to where there sign was and made them promise to wait there until the guards came looking for them! They promised and told me they wouldn't say anything about me helping them escape.<br /><br />Who says you can't trust convicts?<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*some of the things in this story never actually happened.. but it made for a more interesting post didn't it? </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-80417598834865349792009-09-24T06:00:00.001-04:002009-09-24T07:01:15.313-04:00Another Email Gem<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/ad816f367dda2946"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 113px;" src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/image/ad816f367dda2946" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />After trying for a good 3 minutes to come up with something original.. I gave up. So you are stuck with another email goody to make you laugh. Thanks to me SIL for sending me this funny:<br /><br />This is a story by David McClure from the Dallas News Community Opinion page.<br /><br />$5.37. That's what the kid behind the counter at Taco Bueno said to me. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some lint and two dimes and something that used to be a Jolly Rancher. Having already handed the kid a five-spot, I started to head back out to the truck to grab some change when the kid with the Emo hairdo said the harshest thing anyone has ever said to me. He said, "It's OK. I'll just give you the senior citizen discount."<br /><br />I turned to see who he was talking to and then heard the sound of change hitting the counter in front of me. "Only $4.68" he said cheerfully. I stood there stupefied. I am 48, not even 50 yet – a mere child! Senior citizen?<br /><br />I took my burrito and walked out to the truck wondering what was wrong with Emo. Was he blind? As I sat in the truck, my blood began to boil. Old? Me?<br /><br />I'll show him, I thought. I opened the door and headed back inside. I strode to the counter, and there he was waiting with a smile.<br /><br />Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in front of me, like I could be that easily distracted! What am I now? A toddler?<br /><br />"Dude! Can't get too far without your car keys, eh?" I stared with utter disdain at the keys. I began to rationalize in my mind. "Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man elderly! It could happen to anyone!"<br /><br />I turned and headed back to the truck. I slipped the key into the ignition, but it wouldn't turn. What now? I checked my keys and tried another. Still nothing. That's when I noticed the purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror. I had no purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror.<br /><br />Then, a few other objects came into focus. The car seat in the back seat. Happy Meal toys spread all over the floorboard. A partially eaten doughnut on the dashboard.<br /><br />Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle. Moments later I was speeding out of the parking lot, relieved to finally be leaving this nightmarish stop in my life. That is when I felt it, deep in the bowels of my stomach: hunger! My stomach growled and churned, and I reached to grab my burrito, only it was nowhere to be found.<br /><br />I swung the truck around, gathered my courage, and strode back into the restaurant one final time. There Emo stood, draped in youth and black nail polish. All I could think was, "What is the world coming to?" All I could say was, "Did I leave my food and drink in here?" At this point I was ready to ask a Boy Scout to help me back to my vehicle, and then go straight home and apply for Social Security benefits.<br /><br />Emo had no clue. I walked back out to the truck, and suddenly a young lad came up and tugged on my jeans to get my attention. He was holding up a drink and a bag. His mother explained, "I think you left this in my truck by mistake." I took the food and drink from the little boy and sheepishly apologized.<br /><br />She offered these kind words: "It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like this all the time."<br /><br />All of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40. Yes, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota Prius. And no, I told the officer, I'm not too old to be driving this fast.<br /><br />As I walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the hall. I handed her a bag of cold food and a $300 speeding ticket. I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my legs with a blanky.<br /><br />The good news was I had successfully found my way home.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-67334990810883636382009-09-23T08:24:00.004-04:002009-09-23T09:48:30.966-04:00United States of the Offended<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d8/dizzblnd/flag-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 102px;" src="http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d8/dizzblnd/flag-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />That title is borrowed from my husband (not sure if he made it up or if he heard it somewhere) This is what it seems we have become. <br /><br />I am ranting today after watching a news story, if you are looking for funny from me today, I apologize.<br /><br />The story that makes me irate can be found <a href="http://www.wistv.com/global/story.asp?s=11158795">here</a> <br />The story is about a fallen solider Lance Corporal Christopher Fowlkes who was killed in Afghanistan earlier this month. His casket was brought through the town in Gaffney, SC to be honored. A friend or family member put American flags along the route to help honor him.<br /><br />Included in the route was the Bank of America. A bank employee came out and pulled the flags up stating "he was afraid it would offend some of their customers"<br /><br /><br />WHAT? Wait a minute. The banks name is Bank of AMERICA. It's logo looks oddly enough like an American flag <img src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/image/8fef5ccca4e1f6c6"><br /><br />It seems to me that anybody who would be offended wouldn't bank there. <br />To be fair, "The company said in a statement, "This was all a big miscommunication between their corporate office and the branch. The bank does fly the American flag at our locations throughout the country and flags were displayed in front of our banking center in Gaffney the evening prior to our dedicated Marine returning home. We deeply apologize for any misunderstandings." <br />This misunderstanding of one employee's interpretation of the rules has been met with Cherokee County and others closing their accounts with the bank. <br /><br /><br /><br />I am saddened by the lowered standard of our country. If anyone is offended by what our country stands for; they should go back to where they came from or at the very least be as tolerant of us as they insist that we are to them.<br /><br />My thoughts and prayers are with all of our Military past, present and future as well as for their proud families who live in fear from day to day that they might never see their loved ones again.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-78642431964864892162009-09-22T09:23:00.002-04:002009-09-22T15:47:26.988-04:00It sounds dirty, but it's not<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ac4.yt-thm-a04.yimg.com/image/461c4bef01d43cca"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 90px; height: 125px;" src="http://ac4.yt-thm-a04.yimg.com/image/461c4bef01d43cca" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I was watching the news a while back and I saw this caption under <del>Nasty</del> Nancy Pelosi's picture:<br /><br />"Nancy Pelosi flexes her clout." I thought, "Ewwwwwwwwwwww I don't even WANT to know what part of the anatomy her clout is." Then I wondered why the media thought is so important that the world should know this disgusting fact. Who in the hell would want to see her clout? Not I. <br /><br />OK OK I'll confess. I am a walking talking dictionary. I know what clout means, but it just caught me off guard and in my usual gutter-mind mode, I couldn't help but laugh.<br /><br />Don't worry, I'll save you the trouble of looking it up: <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/clout">Dictionary.com</a> defines clout in this sense of the word as: <span style="font-style:italic;">Informal. pull; strong influence; muscle, esp. political power: a wealthy campaign contributor with clout at city hall.</span> <br /><br /><br />Now that you have learned a new word, go out and use it as dirtily as possible!<br /><br /><br />In case you cant read it. The caption on my post pic says "If not for the gutter, my mind would be homeless" I found it very apropos.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6195522655916384225.post-36700927357008267052009-09-21T06:40:00.001-04:002009-09-21T06:58:17.772-04:00Bad Chili<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:XYand1Z6EdO8WM:http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/HPM/FM2052%7EFamily-Guy-Toxic-Fumes-Posters.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 86px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:XYand1Z6EdO8WM:http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/HPM/FM2052%7EFamily-Guy-Toxic-Fumes-Posters.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span id="ctl00_cphMainContent_lbQuestion"><span style="font-weight:bold;">My back has been hurting, so I have not been able to really sit down and comment and/or read blogs. Nor can I sit down long enough to do an original blog. I did laundry all day, because it hurt to sit, hurt to stand, hurt to do laundry, but at least I did SOMETHING. I do apologize. Anyway, I received this in my email this morning... it was too funny NOT to share. Some of you can relate (<a href="http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-do-you-not-no-you-have-to-go.html">I know I can</a>)</span><br /><br />I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented "You're definitely going to "Poop yourself" chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat the next day both of your a-- cheeks WILL fall off.<br /><br />Here 's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No "Watson's Movement 2." Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.<br /><br />Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.<br /><br />Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me.<br />Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that "Uh-oh, gotta-go" pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.<br /><br />The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.<br /><br />There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it.<br /><br />I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate.<br /><br />I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. BIG mistake...<br /><br />Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things "clamped down," if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.<br /><br />Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grandmal assplosion took place.<br /><br />Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable "Oh my God," floating above the toilet seat because my butt is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor gal walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of "Shock and Awe." She made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, "What the F " then quickly left.<br /><br />Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, Mamn, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem."<br /><br />That of course set me laughing again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, "IT'S YOU!" then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.<br /><br />Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Albertson's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store... </span><div class="ratings" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top; float: right;"><span id="ctl00_cphMainContent_lbRatings"></span></div><div><span id="ctl00_cphMainContent_lbQPostPhoto"></span><span id="ctl00_cphMainContent_lbQPostPhotoText"></span></div><div style="clear: both; line-height: 1px;"> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869448149679702821noreply@blogger.com10