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SisterNan
Female
66 years old
Michigan
United States
Last login: 7 days ago
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 Burdens of Life
Saturday, September 26, 2009 (2:13 AM)
(I'm feeling rejuvenated)
Here are some great ways of dealing with the burdens of life:

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.
* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.
* Always wear stuff that will make you look good, if you die in the middle of it.
* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be "Recalled" by their maker.
* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.
* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, It was probably worth it.
* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to be kind to others.
* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.
* Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.
* When everything's coming your way, You're in the wrong lane.
* Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.
* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.
* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.
* We could learn a lot from crayons... Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.
*A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour. 

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 Flower Show
Wednesday, July 22, 2009 (7:09 AM)
(I'm feeling giggly)
Two little old ladies were sitting on a park bench outside the local
town hall where a flower show was in progress.
The thin one leaned over and Said, 'Life is so boring. We never
have any fun any more. For $10 I'd take my clothes off and streak
through that stupid flower show!'
'You're on!' said the other old lady, holding up a $10 note. The
first little old lady slowly fumbled her way out of her clothes and,
completely naked, streaked (as fast as an old lady can) through
the front door of the flower show.
Waiting outside, her friend soon heard a huge commotion inside the
hall, followed by loud applause and shrill whistling.. The smiling and
naked Old lady came through the exit door surrounded by a cheering
crowd.
'What happened?' asked her waiting friend.
'I won 1st prize as Best Dried Arrangement. '
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 The Talking Centipede
Tuesday, July 21, 2009 (11:29 AM)
(I'm feeling chipper)
The Talking Centipede:

A single guy decided life would be more fun if he had a pet. So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy an unusual pet. After some discussion, he finally bought a talking centipede, (100-legged bug), which came in a little white box to use for his house.

He took the box back home, found a good spot for the box, and decided he would start off by taking his new pet to church with him. So he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to church with me today? We will have a good time."

But there was no answer from his new pet.

This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked again, "How about going to church with me and receive blessings?" But again, there was no answer from his new friend and pet.

So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation. The guy decided to invite the centipede one last time. This time he put his face up against the centipede's house and shouted, "Hey, in there! Would you like to go to church with me and learn about God?"

This time, a little voice came out of the box, "I heard you the first time! I'm putting on my shoes!"
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 Beware of Retired People
Thursday, July 16, 2009 (7:16 PM)
(I'm feeling chipper)
Retired People: Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day the husband and I went into town and went into a shop. We were only in there for about 5 minutes. When we came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. We went up to him and I said, 'Come on man, how about giving a Senior citizen a break? 'He ignored us and continued writing the ticket. I called him a dumb ass.. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires .. So Max called him a shithead. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Just then our bus arrived. We try to have a little fun each day now that we're retired.  It's important at our age.  
 
 
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 Economy Update
Friday, February 6, 2009 (7:58 AM)
(I'm feeling contemplative)
Due to recent budget cuts and the cost of electricity, gas and oil, as well as current market conditions and the continued decline of the economy, The Light at the End of the Tunnel has been turned off. We apologize for the inconvenience.
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 Women's Restrooms
Thursday, January 29, 2009 (7:14 AM)
(I'm feeling giddy)
When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants

The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mu m would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR !) down with your pants and assume 'The Stance'.

In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, you hold 'The Stance'.

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.

In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.

The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.'


By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a candy wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?)

You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?!?'


This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public rest rooms/toilets (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately.
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 New Lamp
Sunday, November 2, 2008 (12:24 PM)
(I'm feeling amused)

When I got home last night my husband Rich was sitting in the living room with a new lamp on his side table. Ok so far, it's his little domain next to easy chair, right? It was shinning very bright which is an improvement, right? He bought it at an Amish store, of course. It's a very heavy brass table lamp in a stained glass Tiffany style, with a huge gigantic overwhelmingly large lamp shade that extends way way way beyond the size of his table top. The glass shade has bright iridescent cherry red trim around the bottom and around the top. Red is his favorite color. The huge glass panels in the middle are mostly solid white, allowing a lot of light through.  But it's way too much light, like a lighthouse beacon as you look towards the living room from the kitchen. Really!

Then I see the same bright red color on the design of the red/white lamp. No other colors at all. The 3 panels with a design are of a simple red object pointing upwards. It think it's some kind of insignia as I walk closer.  Is it Red Wings hockey? That's big here in Michigan. One step more and I get it fully focused in my eyes. It's a bright red glowing symbol that I've never seen before. He innocently doesn't know what it means and thinks it's just a pretty design in his favorite color. Then I look towards my chair. He has removed my favorite very old brass lamp that reminds me of my dear Dad and has given me a shinny new lamp to match his! OMG!!! X 2 -

What is this design? At first it makes me kinda think of a Jewish menorah. No, those aren't candles.  They look more like letters. IU or UI? Ah ha, University of Indiana! Since we don't watch football at our house, we're only familiar with Michigan State and U of M. So, I guess we've become Michiganders that are rooting for Indiana?

I immediately have a decision to make. Do I laugh hysterically? Do I faint? Get mad as Hell and start swearing at him? All of these thoughts are swirling through my head so fast that I can't even think straight. Out of the fog I hear his voice say: "Hi Nan, how do you like the new lamp?" Oh no, I'm now expected to talk, to reply, to compose words? The only thing that comes to my mind is to ask advice from the wife of the man in the old movie A Christmas Story. He opened the box containing his wining prize and found the famous lady's leg lamp with a fringy shade! If only I had that bratty kid's BB gun, I'd shoot Rich's damn lamp!!!

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 Bubba Fairy
Monday, September 29, 2008 (2:42 AM)
(I'm feeling calm)
A story by Nicole Mullis.

When my daughter was a toddler, she wouldn't give up the pacifier.  In fact, she started hoarding them after my first attempt to wean her off "bubbas."  No matter how many I took away, she always had another.  I have a picture of her clutching two in each hand and one in her mouth, defiance bright in her eyes.  Since she was jealous of her sibling's Tooth Fairy visits and I was desperate, I created the Bubba Fairy.  This fairy came when all the bubbas were under the pillow.  On that magical night, she took them away and left a Big Girl Gift.

It was a hit!  My daughter emptied her hidey-holes, shocking me with bubbas I hadn't seen in months.  That night she slept on them all.  It was a rather intense pillow-extraction process but the next morning my daughter got her present and never asked for a bubba again.  It was enough to make me believe in magic.
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 Woman wakes up, should have smelled the coffee
Monday, September 29, 2008 (2:34 AM)
(I'm feeling awake)
True story.  The following is taken from our local newspaper on 9/28/08.  

Cedar Rapids, Iowa - It wasn't just the caffeine that gave an Iowa woman an extra jolt after she had her morning coffee.  It was also the bat she found in the filter.

The Iowa Department of Public Health said the woman reported a bat in her house but wasn't too worried about it.  She turned on her automatic coffee maker before bedtime and drank her coffee the next morning.

She discovered the bat in the filter when she went to clean it that night.  The woman has undergone treatment for possible rabies.

Health officials said the bat was sent to a lab but that its brain was too cooked by the hot water to determine whether it had rabies.
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 Hurricane Names
Thursday, September 11, 2008 (1:20 PM)
(I'm feeling contemplative)

For hundreds of years, hurricanes in the West Indies were named after the particular saint's day on which the hurricane occurred. An Australian meteorologist began giving women's names to tropical storms before the end of the 19th century. In 1953, the U.S. National Weather Service, which is the federal agency that tracks hurricanes and issues warnings and watches, began using female names for storms.

In 1979, both women and men's names were used. One name for each letter of the alphabet is selected, except for Q, U and Z. For Atlantic Ocean hurricanes, the names may be French, Spanish or English, since these are the major languages bordering the Atlantic Ocean where the storm occur.

So who decides what names are used each year? The World Meteorological Organization uses six lists in rotation. The same lists are reused every six years. The only time a new name is added is if a hurricane is very deadly or costly. Then the name is retired and a new name is chosen.

In the event that more than 21 named tropical cyclones occur in the Atlantic basin in a season, additional storms will take names from the Greek alphabet: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and so on.

There is a list of hurricane/cyclone names that are unique for different parts of the world.  For a complete list of all worldwide names, see www.nhc.noaa.gov/aboutnames.shtml.  For a United States list of Atlantic, Pacific and retired names, see www.fema.gov/kids/hunames.htm.  

Is your name on the list?  Mine isn't.  Was anyone born during a hurricane or named after one? 

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