Friday, 16. November 2007, 13:12:57
Kay Four, K4, humour, Humor
...
There are two kinds of people in America: Those that hunt deer and those who wonder why there are deer hunters. Oddly enough, you will find both kinds of people living in the same household more often than not.
So, deer hunting season is upon us and I have noticed that a lot of people have taken to wearing very brightly colored clothing while going out to get the mail. I assume the two are related. (And this is not as much of a stretch as you may think.)
My argument:
I used to work in a convenience store in a small town in Clay County, Florida and, by coincidence, it was the only thing that was open after 11pm. Because this store was open after midnight, this is where all the hunters came to get their provisions for the trip into the woods. They would buy tiny cans of beanie weanies, Dinty Moore's Beef Stew, pacakages of bologna, but no bread or mayonaisse becuse they were going to HUNT, not make dinner, or breakfast.
I would have to make several pots of coffee because they would fill up large thermoses of coffee to keep themselves awake. This brings two things to mind, immediately. First, they would build a fire in the forest to sit around, but they didn't know what to do with it because none of them made coffee, boiled water for instant coffee or heated up their beanie weanies. More than once, they all complained about having to eat cold food. The other thing the enormous thermoses reminded me of is that every hunter had anywhere from 4 and 10 hunting dogs all in cages and all in the back of the 4-wheel drive trucks and all howling. The dog of choice being a Beagle and most aren't cute like Snoopy, but rather they are loud and they howl. So, if these hunters with thermoses wanted to stay awake, all they had to do was to stand out in the parking lot of the convenience store and listen while the dogs howled at each other.
But, as ususal, I digress...
These hunters, typically, would go into the forest, turn their hunting dogs loose, then proceed to sit around the fire and talk about yesterday's hunting, eat their provisions and drink their coffee. Somewhere close to an hour before dawn, they all get up and start to round up their dogs. If they happen to run across a deer while trying to find the dogs, they will shoot at it.
I think I must explain that the definition of a deer is ANYTHING that moves in the forest. A light breeze could rustle a hand full of leaves on a bush and the hunter would shoot the bush because he thinks it's a deer. Or at the very least, he thinks a real deer probably just passed that way and rustled the leaves on the bush.
So, that's why people are wearing brightly colored clothes this time of year because no one wants to be shot while walking out to the mailbox and they happen to rustle a handful of junk mail.
Monday, 12. November 2007, 14:59:36
A bit of humor for my friend,
Digitaljon, who just got a job working for a company that hires people to work in casinos...
Paulson poker chips, which are made in Las Vegas, were found to contain high levels of lead. There's nothing to worry about. The reason casinos are so big and lavish is that gamblers cannot hang on to their chips long enough for any statistically measurable health risk.
Friday, 9. November 2007, 10:34:13
pink, , The Divine Miss M, life
...
My neighbor, Lionel, is still at it...
Li: We will find out tomorrow if Jean is having a boy or a girl.
Me: What do you want?
Li: I am still hoping for a girl.
Me: Have you changed your mind on the whole girls should never wear pink, thing?
Li: No. If it is a girl, there will be no pink in the house.
Me: Then, she will have to wear boys clothes. My granddaughter has almost nothing but pink stuff. Even her little jeans have pink flowers embroidered on them, or pink stitching down the side or something.
Li: But, no one looks good in pink.
Me: Every one looks good in pink. Pink is the color of human skin, regardless if it is dark or light. Pink makes you look younger because it brings out the nice pink tones in your skin. Little old ladies put pink lightblubs in their houses to make them look better. Pink is not an evil color.
Li: But, what if the baby is born with a red face?
Me: It will be red only if it is totally embarassed by it's parents.
Li: You mean, like making a little girl wear boys clothes?
Me: That would be one way, yes.
And in a related story:
#2 Son (The Divine Miss M's Dad): I was in the grocery store the other day with Miss M and a man told me she was a cute little boy.
Me: That's because her hair is still pretty short.
#2: I know that, but she had on a pink dress. A DRESS and the guy still called her a boy. I told him, "This is a girl. That is a pink dress she is wearing. It is not a light-red kilt."
Wednesday, 7. November 2007, 18:22:41
love, humour, Humor, comversation
...
Overheard while in line at the bank:
She: That's so retarded.
He: I hate it when you use that word like that.
She: What word? Retarded?
He: Yes. I'm not, you know.
She: Not what? Retarded. Yeah, you are acting totally retarded.
He: Don't you know how high my IQ is?
She: No.
He: It is 136. My IQ is 136.
She: Well, mine is 1050.
He: I said IQ, not SAT score.
She: Whatever. Just don't act retarded again, OK?
He: Whatever.
Thursday, 1. November 2007, 13:07:15
workplace, humour, Humor, breakfast show
...
According to Mara Rose Williams of the Kansas City Star,
A class clown may be disruptive in school, but in the workplace a little humor is good for creativity, according to a University of Missouri-Columbia researcher.
Chris Robert, assistant professor of management in MU’s Robert J. Trulaske Sr. College of Business, said that humor — particularly joking about things associated with the job — has a positive impact in the workplace.
“The ability to appreciate humor, the ability to laugh and make other people laugh actually has physiological effects on the body that cause people to become more bonded,” said Robert.
That is really good news!
In a seemingly unrelated event, my New Car stranded me again, this time in the rain because the windshield wipers quit working... in the middle of the worse rainstorm this year. I called the lady at AAA to rescue me and we had a lengthy discussion as to the location of my car. "I got off of the highway (Interstate 64W) at the sign that said Military Highway. I made a right at the exit and then drove for about a 1/4 mile or so until I reached the back entrance of an airport. I don't know which one."
She got out her map and looked and pondered, trying to find out exactly where I was. "Ah, you are at the back gate of Norfolk International Airport."
"I am?" It was news to me.
"And you are not on Military Highway. You would have had to turn to the left to get there. You are on Robin Hood Road." Ok and whatever. I just wanted to be rescued.
Soooooo, the wrecker found me, took me to a repair shop and $197.00 later, my windshield wipers work, once again.
Three days later, a man in my office mentioned to me, "I have to go to the UPS place to pick up a golf club that I ordered. It is on Robin Hood Road. I have no idea where that is."
Of course I had a witty comeback for that. "It is really easy to find. I did it in the middle of the worse rainstorm of the year and without any windshield wipers. You should have no trouble finding it at all."
Wednesday, 31. October 2007, 12:44:22
Kay Four, K4, work, life
...
After whining about my lack of commentors (not necessarily my lack of readers) I feel I must explain WHY I have been lax in my posting.
4:30am--Alarm goes off
4:30am--Toss the alarm across the room to shut it off
4:39am--Somewhere on the otherside of the room, the snooze alarm rings and I have to get out of bed to find it. Since I am up, I may as well stay up
4:44am--Make coffee
4:45am--Check my Outlook, Opera, Yahoo Messenger, GMail, Hotmail and Yahoo news headlines to find out what happened when I was sleeping
5:00am--guzzle a cup of coffe while I make my breakfast
5:10am--eat breakfast and work on my novel
5:45am--Shower, brush teeth, fix hair
6:00am--Clothes on, make-up on, cat fed and watered
6:15am--Out of the house. I start my car (hoping it will actually run) and drive drive drive, over the river, through the woods, down the road, up the road, through the tunnel, past the airport, see the Atlantic Ocean, watch the sunrise, avoid several accidents and finally get to work.
7:30am--Unlock the door, make the coffee, sit at my desk and begin working
12:00noon--Eat lunch at my desk as I continue working
3:30pm--Leave work to drive home (please see 7:30am and reverse the action)
5:00pm--Arrive home
5:01pm--Remove my work clothes and get into my jammies
5:05pm--Make dinner
5:30pm--Eat dinner while I check my Outlook, Opera, Yahoo Messenger, GMail, Hotmail and Yahoo news headlines to find out what happened when I was working.
6:30pm--surf the TV for a few minutes before settling on the Science Channel, Discovery or Animal Planet as background noise. Check to see what is coming up that evening to see if I need to set the DVR to automatically record something that I may watch over the weekend or I may delete over the weekend.
6:35pm--8:00pm--Work, work, work (school work, or Virtual Assistant work)
8:00pm--Bedtime
Which, by the way, makes me one of the most (temporarily) boring people alive. It seems like I spend most of my waking and non-working or non-driving moments staring into space. I am told it will take about 4 months to fully adjust to not being able to take an afternoon nap whenever I want to. Working in a Big-Girl office sucks. I have two more months to go before this will be fun.
Wednesday, 31. October 2007, 09:13:43
sad, work, Virginia
I am working long hours and commuting long hours and it seems like very few people are commenting on the few things I do post.
Is there anyone in Opera? Who is out there?
Friday, 26. October 2007, 11:48:56
hay ride, pumpkin, baby, Divine Miss M
It has been awhile, but here she is: The Divine Miss M!
She and her mommy went to a pumpkin patch and then she got to go on a hayride with the pumpkin she picked out herself. What a fun day for her! And she finally slowed down enough that her mommy was able to get a few good pictures of her.
She is walking everywhere, running when she has a chance, talking about everything, giggling every day, and adoring shoes on her feet. Such a pretty little lady!
Thursday, 25. October 2007, 14:29:32
Spanish, Humor, humour, Heroes
I actually spend little time watching TV and then I don't actually WATCH TV as much as listen to it. To see the TV I have to twist my neck to an almost Linda Blair angle over my right shoulder to see what the hub-bub is about on the screen.
You see, most of my waking hours are spent at the computer, doing something or other of interest or something or other designed to be monetarily enhancing.
So, Heroes starts a new season and they have introduced new characters who speak in their native tongue--namely Spanish. I am mono-linguistic, so I can't listen to the Spanish people and understand them, I have to stop what I am doing, rummage around for my glasses, twist my neck around to see the see the TV screen and then read the subtitles. It was bad enough with Hiro and his friend last season peaking Japanese, but now, I have to do this with another set of characters.
And to make things worse, the dialogue is bad, so I am doubly irritated by this.
Boy: I speak Spanish, my sister.
Girl: My brother, I speak Spanish as well.
Boy: And while I am speaking Spanish, I will watch out for you, my sister.
Girl: That is good, my brother, because I have a habit of killing dangerous people with just my mind, while I am speaking Spanish.
Boy: Yes, my sister, and as a result, everyone in Mexico has become bad guys because they are trying to stop you from killing people with just your mind, while they are speaking Spanish.
Girl: My brother, do they not understand that I am not doing it on purpose?
Boy: They do not, my sister. They are chasing us again.
Girl: Let us run across this field, my brother.
Boy: Have I told you I am tired of everyone chasing us, my sister?
Girl: Let's speak Spanish while we run, my brother.
Boy: All right, my sister.
Girl: Let us continue to speak Spanish in the forseeable future, my brother.
Boy: And when we stop running, we will speak Spanish some more, my sister.
Girl: Of course, my brother.
Wednesday, 24. October 2007, 12:18:02
humour, Humor, secrets, repost
This has been fun, rummaging through my old posts to find something to write about. I am finding a lot of things written about my #1 daughter and her (former) Hubby. Such a rich feeding ground. Now, however, humor is thin. It seems like I am having a harder time finding funny things to write about. I wonder if there is somethig weird and psychological going on or maybe Mercury is in retrograde.
So, I found this little bit of fun and always a great filler if you can't think of something to write about:
Have you ever had a secret? Something that you know that no one else does? Or something you thought no one else knew and maybe you mention it when you were too drunk to remember? Here are a few of my favorites.
*A friend of mine told me she likes to dance to the music when she's alone in an elevator. (Very Cool!)
*One of my daughter's friends told me she has her nipples pierced and everyone but her mother knows. (I am too chicken to ger mine pierced. I admire her spirit.)
*I used to know a guy who would go to the grocery store,open packages of cookies, take a few out and eat them while he was shopping. The opened box would stay on the shelf. (Oh, you're the one who does that!)
*A friend has a collection of over 80,000 pornography pictures on their computer. (Very Very Cool)
*I [used to] work with a woman who gives everyone the finger when someone walks by her office... behind her computer screen. She thinks no one has seen this. But, I have. (I think I will start doing that myself. Call it stress relief)
*There was a woman in Walmart who drew the universal symbol for NO over a yellow smiley face some else had stuck to the bathroom wall. She used her red lipstick. (I wish I had thought of that)
OK. Are you ready for my secret? When no one is around, I sing loudly and sometimes off key. I sing to the Divine Miss M when I am babysitting her. She is completely non-judgemental and thinks my rendition of "Malia" sang to the tune of "Maria" from the West Side Story is sensational. She sings along with me.
Tuesday, 23. October 2007, 02:17:09
missionaries, marathon, faith, running
#2 was running today, training for another marathon, when he was approached by two missionaries on bicycles who wished to speak with him regarding their faith.
He replied, "I can't talk now, I have to run."
Monday, 22. October 2007, 12:16:20
Humor, humour, chicken, cats
...
Continuing with the best of Kay Four...
Because of a suggestion by a dear reader and close observation of Evelyn's behavior, the alignment of the planets, the Theory of Relativity and the hole in the ozone layer, I have finally solved the Pill Dilemma.
Evelyn is a slave to her stomach, as are most animals. We THINK they love us, but what they really love is food. Simply put. I am thoroughly convinced that she thinks that I am HUNTING every time I leave the apartment because when I get back, she automatically wants to be fed. She does her cute kitty routine (refer to Puss-in-Boots in the movie Shrek 2 to completely understand this.) She looks at me with her great big blue eyes. She gives me her sweet little meow as if she is saying, "Mommy, I know you are the best hunter in the world, so please share a meager bit of your good fortune with me because how can you resist such a cute face and you know I never ask for much from you and how can you resist such an utterly cute face with such big adorable eyes?" Yeah, right!
I dump food in Cute Kitty's bowl and she is happy. But, underneath all of this, she has five lethal weapons on each foot and some righteous teeth in her mouth! She may give me "cute-kitty", but I now know that underneath she is saying, "Fear me, if you dare!"
The truth is out: This demon possessed animal has a MAJOR weakness. Chicken.
Yep, I made broiled chicken with fresh lemon zest and sweet creamery butter (which is a little slice of heaven and so very delish...) Evelyn pranced and gave me a lot of cute kitty hoping to score a chunk of chicken. I made an entire piece of chicken breast for THE CAT. I ripped a piece of chicken from the bone, shoved the pill inside and gave her the treat on a ceramic dessert plate that my younger brother designed and made for me years ago. Presentation is everything!
She gulped it down, never aware of the pill inside the lemon chicken creation.
Good sense and reason and logic prevailed! Once again, I am the master of my domain. (doing the butter dance at my desk) Yes! All right! YESSSSSS! I am once again THE QUEEN OF EVERYTHING. Go, K4! Go, K4! (patting myself on the back and tooting my own horn)
I put the rest of Evelyn's chicken in the freezer because this pill escapade will continue for the rest of her life. I simply have to thaw a bit, cleverly hide the pill inside and present it to Miss Evelyn on her proverbial silver platter.
The deed is accomplished without any blood or broken furniture!
Monday, 22. October 2007, 00:16:12
humour, Humor, cats, cat
How to Give a Pill to a Cat, Part B
Everyone likes to feel as if they are the master of their domaine and I did, until it was time to attempt another round of medication for THE CAT. Evelyn and I are matching wits and the big question is, which one of us will prevail.
For round two, I ignored her. I pretended my precious baby didn't exist for several hours, hoping to disarm her with inattention. But, she was too wise for that maneuver. As soon as I picked her up, the game was afoot once again. Number One Daughter and I wrestled the villian to the kitchen floor and the my daughter SAT on her. That's right, she sat on the cat, effectively pinning her to the floor. (Now, I realize this sounds cruel, but Number One Daughter acutally knelt on the floor with the cat between her knees and angled her feet so that the cat couldn't back out of the impromptu prison) Number One opened the cat's mouth and I stuck the pill as far down her throat as I could. Number One held her mouth closed for at least a minute.
We didn't let her go, just in case. That was one of the best ideas we had. Evelyn spit the pill on the floor, except now it is wet and slimy and the cat is PISSED. I mean she is hissing and growling and howling like a banshee. I am beginning to fear for Number One's life, although the cat is still subdued. Number One can't stay on the floor of the kitchen forever and as soon as she lets the cat up, there may be consequences.
Once again, we try the shove-the-pill-down-the-cat's-throat-while-sitting-on-her-in-the-middle-of-the-kitchen-floor technique. Success! She has swallowed the second pill, but she is no less angry than she was a moment before. Number One stands up, releasing the harpy who is still screaming her distress. Evelyn runs under the bed leaving a deep scratch in the kitchen linoleum. We haven't seen her since.
There has be a better way to do this without suffering blood shed or have damage to inanimate objects. If this keeps up, I am afraid that Miss Evelyn will move to another house where this sort of thing doesn't happen. I will ponder this problem today at work... hmmmmm.
Friday, 19. October 2007, 18:17:37
, life, Hubby, Humor
...
This was originally posted in February 2005... I have been blogging since November 2004 and I decided that I will 're-run' some of my favorites:
How to Give a Pill to a Cat, Part A
Wednesday, 23. February 2005, 17:02:48
Anybody who has a cat can sympathesize with my dilemma. Evelyn is by my definition, the smartest cat there is. She certainly proved that the day the vet announced that I had to give her a pill twice a week. The score so far: CAT 5, Humans 0.
I have tried many techniques to get the pill into this clever girl. I tried the vet's method. "Just pull her head back by the scruff of the neck and when she opens her mouth, pop the pill in." Ok, maybe in your world, pal. I warn everybody who tries this. There will be consequences. Namely, the little wretch bit the pogees outta my finger and spit the pill into the next room. By the time I staunched the blood and found the pill, I couldn't find the cat because she was hiding behind the bottle(s)of Canadian Mist on the side board. It was just dumb luck that I spotted her when I went to take a large gulp of courage before tackling the problem again.
Plan B. I bring in reinforcements (Number One Daughter) to hold the cat down, while I use the blunt end of a table knife to pry her mouth open. Ah ha! No more bloddy fingers. But I forgot to take into consideration the claws on the beast. She shredded only one of my daughter's arms before launching into the air, doing a complete 180 degree turn, landing on the dining room table and leaping 20 feet into the spare bedroom.
After washing and dressing the wounds so nobly recieved, we go for round three. This time, with towel in hand, we go in seach of the cat. We had to move six boxes left over from the last move and a nine drawer dresser to get to her, but she is retrieved. It takes both of us fourteen minutes to wrap her securely in the towel, and only my left cheek and my daughter's right knee were damaged in this round. Somebody please ring the bell! My daughter attempts to open her mouth with fingers and I shove the pill inside.
The cat is haughty and indignant and with an attitude and flick of her kitty tail, she wanders into the kitchen... where she spits the pill onto the floor. Then she looks up at me and smiles. "Don't you smile at me, you clever little monster. I may never feed you again!"
So now, my daughter and I have gotten out a pencil, a notebook, an algebra book, Einstein's Law of Physics, a pound a cat nip, and a newly opened bottle of Canadian Mist, so we can research Plan C. Never before has the most intricately planned CIA mission so carefully wrought.
I look over at Evelyn and I suspect she is planning, as well. Plan C had better be an excellent one, or Number One Daughter and I will probably loose a couple very important limbs immediately before the cat spits the pill onto the Oriental Carpet.
Thursday, 18. October 2007, 12:42:20
Stolen Cars, Star Trek Movies, Beethoven's Symphanies, Polar Bears
...
This is a whole lot like a statistics joke. You know the one. 60% of cars are stolen by left-handed people and 100% of all polar bears are left-handed, so if your car is stolen, there is an 47% chance it was stolen by a polar bear.
Whyizzit?
All of Beethoven's really good symphanies are the odd numbered ones and the really good Star Trek movies are even numbered?
Sunday, 14. October 2007, 13:51:47
Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel, Barry Manilow, sining, commute
Waiting in line to go through the busiest tunnel on Earth can be such a drag sometimes. But, there are moments...
I was listening to my Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits CD in New-Car--the one with no air conditioning. And I had the windows open. So did the man in the truck in the lane beside me.
He was in his work truck, from someone-or-other's construction. He sported a bushy gray bead, a paint stained ball cap and a shirt that was covered in various colors of paint. Not hard to imagine what he did for a living.
I was singing along to Barry's
]American Bandstand.
Suddenly, he started singing, too, in a lovely rich baritone.
We're goin' hoppin'
We're goin' happin' today
Where things are poppin'
The philadelphia way
We're gonna drop in
On all the music they play
On the bandstand
We're goin' swingin'
We're gonna swing in the crowd
And we'll be clingin'
And floatin' high as a cloud
The phones are ringin'
My mom and dad are so proud
I'm on bandstand
And I'll jump, and hey,
I may even show'em my handstand
Because I'm on,
because I'm on the american bandstand
when we dance real slow
I'll show all the guys in the grandstand
What a swinger I am,
I am on american bandstand
We're goin' hoppin'
We're goin' happin' today
Where things are poppin'
The philadelphia way
We're gonna drop in
On all the music they play
On the bandstand
Bandstand bandstand bandstand
Bring it on,here on the show,ready to go,on a roll
Hey I'm makin' my mark
Gee, this joint is jumpin'
They made such a fuss just to see us arrive
Hey, it's Mr.Dick Clark
What a place you've got here
Swell spot the music's hot here
Best in the east,
Give it at least a seventy five!
Now for all you Joe's
Here goes my american handstand
Because I'm on,
Because I'm on the american bandstand
As we dance real slow
I'm showin' the guys in the grandstand
That I like my girl,
But I love american bandstand
The singers' croonin'
He ain't the greatest but gee
My baby's swoonin'
In front of all of TV
So if you tune in
You'll see my baby and me
On the bandstand
And now we're hoppin'
(it's boss, baby it's boss) (there you go!)
and we'll be hoppin' all day
(it's cool, baby it's cool!) (what a show!)
The philadelphia way
And you can drop in
(no school, baby no school!) (wave hello!)
On all the music they play
On the bandstand
And we'll rock and roll and stroll on american
Lindy hop and slop, it's american
Tune in, I'm on, turn on, I'm in, I'm on
Today! (Bandstand)
We made a condsiderable trio, did Barry, Painterman and Me.
Thursday, 11. October 2007, 09:48:28
tools, car repair, Humor, breakfast show
...
I had to get a car because my #2 son wasn't going to let me borrow his car forever. That kind of behavior wears thin very quickly.
At any rate, a friend of my son's had a car he was willing to sell, so I bought it. And it promptly quit working. Now, I admit that the car is older (a 1994) but after less than a week, I was stranded at the dry-cleaners. I called #2 to rescue me and he arrived, looking so official in his Air Force uniform and proceeded to get my car running so I could take it to the autoparts store.
Then, we bought the alternator and he told me he would change it out for me. OK.
Now, to fix this car, he had to acquire a number of tools he didn't own, so off the store where you buy that kind of thing for tool shopping. He loved it.
He bought sockets, wrenches, a crow bar and a bendy-tool that makes your socket bend in odd directions to reach those hard to reach bolts. Two days, he shopped until he bought enough tools to make an Indy 500 Pit Crew happy. Then, he changed the alternator, getting his hands totally greasy and having his new tools spread around him like he was a child in a play pen and he had all of his favorite toys within reach.
For that's what it was... his favorite new toys.
#2 announced that he wants a tool box for Christmas and he will paint a note on the top that says, "#2 ONLY." Guy's tool.
He took the old alternator off the car and put the new one on and never once got to use his new bendy-tool. So, he invented a reason to use it.
#2: I am going to have to go through this entire engine until I find something to take off with my new bendy-tool.
Me: It has to be a guy-thing.
#2: It's like when a woman buys a new blouse. She has to wear it really soon. It is necessary.
Me: Ok. Just don't take apart something you can't fix.
#2: What? I'm a guy! I can fix cars. This is totally a guy thing. You have to be able to work on cars or you can't be a real guy.
Me: Which has saved me from having to know anything about it. Fixing cars is something I never wanted to know how to do. So, they invented guys and guys fix cars. As long as there are guys on this planet, I won't have to know how to fix a car. I just have to know how to ask for help.
#2: Oh, look! I can use my bendy-tool to tighten the thing-a-ma-bob.
Me: I'm so happy for you!
#2: I need to call Clover. Look! I fixed my mom's car!
Me: You feel all manly and stuff and that's why you have to call your woman?
#2: Yeah! You know. Strut around a little bit. Show off.
Me: Kinda like a peacock showing off his feathers for the ladies.
#2: Exactly.
Me: Except human peacocks don't have beautiful feathers. They have greasy hands and a bendy-tool.
#2: Whatever works.
Sunday, 7. October 2007, 15:20:45
breakfast show, college, education
Most of you know that I have been a college student since I began posting here at Opera. I recently began a Master's program and just a few weeks ago, I changed the direction I was going, entirely.
I am going to be a teacher, instructor, mentor, college professor. In my mind, most of those words are interchangeable.
Mark Twain said, “Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education”. The challenge for me is that I haven’t been an instructor before other than a short stint as a software trainer with my employer. The question in my mind is, can I be a good effective teacher, instructor, college professor or what ever role I eventually obtain as a result of this master’s program?
When I was a child, I dreamed of being a teacher because those ladies and men who stood in front of the classroom and gave us their knowledge seemed larger than life. As I grew to adulthood, I heard from many people, “Those who can’t do, teach,” and I am sorry to admit that the phrase clouded my judgment and as a result I gave up my dream for many years. This newly awakened dream is still in the infant stages and I haven’t pinned down a precise direction I am going, other than majoring in Post Secondary and Adult education.
Finally, when the naysayers approach me to ask, “Why do you want to do that?” I can tell them, because it is something that I have always wanted to do, secretly, deep inside and I am finally old enough to realize your opinion doesn’t matter to me.
Thursday, 4. October 2007, 18:11:41
yankee, Humor, breakfast show, southern state
...
According to the Maps and the Civil War, Virginia is a southern state.
So why was one of my neighbors ranting so badly against Southern people? The man wouldn't shut up. He kept on and on, making a fool of himself and doing a very bad southern accent. You see, I am from the SOUTH and I know what a southern accent should sound like.
The carpetbagger was all, "Ah thank ah'm gonna git my gun and go shoot a possum fer dinner and then Maw kin cook 'er up fer me." AND "Ah thank ah'm gonna throw another beer can in the back of mah pick-up truck."
As I have said, I am from the south and I have NEVER used the above mentioned phrases in conversation to anybody.
I have nothing against Yankees. My Dad is a Yankee, born and raised in Up-State New York. I still have a bunch of cousins up there and an aunt or two. Yankees are cool.
Except for my neighbor who thought no one in the area was a southerner... just every native Virginian. I asked him where he was born. "I was born in Richmond," he announced proudly.
So, I told him, in my finest southern accent, "If you were born in Richmond, you are a possum shooting southerner, too."
"Not!"
Well spoken, Pete.
"Look it up on your computer, Einstein. Virginia is a Southern State," I told him.
He gave me a look like I was the freaking moron.
Small wonder I have such a hard time finding a date.
Wednesday, 3. October 2007, 18:08:11
family reunion, outer banks, beach wedding, currituck
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