<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:57:07.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts From The Not So Average Woman</title><subtitle type='html'>Bits and pieces of my life, along with some humor and some just plain crazy stuff.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>173</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7983497243298737882</id><published>2008-05-21T20:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T21:52:46.347-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is A Highway</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/?action=view&amp;current=zap.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/zap.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that song "Life is a Highway". I have found that it is fairly true too. I seem to be traveling down this winding road and wondering where it is going to take me. There seem to be a lot of curves so that I can't see the end but I have a feeling it is going to get smoother for at least a bit here soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found a job that I really enjoy. I even turned down a potentially better paying job just so that I could keep this one. I just couldn't see myself trying to hock insurance to people who can't afford it but also can't afford to be without it. I think I will just stick to selling gas at the local truck stop. I meet a ton of interesting people here and really love my hours. Working graveyards seems to really agree with me. I never was a day person anyways. I really enjoy working there but find amusement in how scatterbrained some of the truckers I meet really are. I have had truckers asking me what town they are in, what time it is, and my personal favorite: "how much do I owe ya"? "What pump were you on sir?" "I'm not sure...that one out there" LOL!! Like that tells me anything people!! I was surprised to find out how many foriegners there are driving these days. It seems like half the boys who come in to the store can't speak english. It makes me wonder why some of the locals I meet can't get the gumption up to get a job...but I am not going there tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=iyktf.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/iyktf.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The others I meet at work that late at night are the locals coming in for some snacks after Papa Mike's closes. That is the local bar. I have several regulars that know my name and I their's and we are friendly. I also have one who is slightly insane. Last time he was in he asked if I would dance naked on the pizza I was making him. He calls me "Red Rooster Girl" and can never remember meeting me from one weekend to the next. Lets just say that this man is NOT my favorite regular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=words.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/words.gif" border="0" alt="words"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still not so sure about this dating scene though. My divorce is final but I can't seem to enjoy having men hit on me and I am terrified of actually telling one of the men who keep asking me out yes. I worry that if I were to say yes I would just been looked at as a means to get laid. I have no interest in that at the moment and never have so I think that it is futile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=hoiLler.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/hoiLler.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sort of seeing this one guy though. He is really sweet but he is younger than I by 8 years and I worry about what my family will think of him. He is not really normal according to the family standards. He is still young enough he finds amusement in belching and farting. He wears multiple earrings, and changes his hair color often. I am sure that if we can work out our differences we will be friends for a very long time, but my family comes first. Granted, they approved of my first (and only) husband, but their opinion is still of utmost importance to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=riotepileptic.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/riotepileptic.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally back in a place I can call my own now though. I was really chafing under being told what to do by my sister in law while staying with her and my brother. I love that they were so supportive of me until the end but I couldn't get used to being bossed like a child. I have been too on my own for too long to have put up with it for too much longer. I couldn't very well say no though since they were letting me stay with them and all. It is just nice to finally be able to breathe again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also making some good friends here in my new home. There are several of the gals round here that I am hanging out with and there is part of me that is really enjoying learning how to just be me. We have fun and either stay in or go out and cause trouble in our own little way. One of our favorite things to do is go to Wal-Mart and scope out "hotties" and then go into the next aisle and talk about them..just loud enough for them to hear us. Ok, so that may sound lame to some of you but when your young...you can find all sorts of things to make you laugh and feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=mygirls.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/mygirls.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I need to get back to cleaning carpets. The last tenets of this place left it trashed (literally)and it is apparent that they didn't really know how to properly clean a place either. I have been painting and scrubbing for over two weeks now in between shifts at work and hopefully I will be done soon. The last tenets were so mad at being evicted that they smeared poop on the walls and left a dog in this house to die. I am just glad that she survived. They even called a mutual friend of ours and bragged about all the damage that they did. Other peoples kids!! I tell you what..I am not sure what they were thinking but I am not sure they were doing much of it at the time. I am just hoping that I calmed the landlady down enough that she isn't going to press charges. They would have both ended up in jail and that wouldn't have solved anything in the long run.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7983497243298737882?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7983497243298737882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7983497243298737882&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7983497243298737882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7983497243298737882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2008/05/life-is-highway.html' title='Life Is A Highway'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/th_zap.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4825407648708168414</id><published>2008-02-25T09:10:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T09:17:14.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy Busy Busy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/?action=view&amp;current=zap.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/zap.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a crazy year so far to say the least. Things went so bad so fast that I had no time to prepare for it but they are starting to level out for sure. My husband and I are definitely split up for the good of all concerned, even my kids are happier, or they would be if they were allowed to live with their mother as they wish but the divorce is not going to end up that way unfortunately. I am going to try to get them back into my care as soon as I can but that is going to take time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that jobs are nearly impossible to find when you have this VERY large gap in your resume? I have been a stay at home mom (or domestic goddess as I prefer to be called) for 8 yrs now and having to battle that when looking for work is nearly impossible these days. Most places won’t even look at an application or resume much less consider a person for work unless they are already working. My biggest question is how this is fair to someone like me who is starting over in life and could really use a paycheck to help rebuild that life?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s move on to another subject since the job one seems to upset me right now. Let’s try men. Did you know that there are more men on the planet than the one I was married to? I didn’t know that for many years and now, well now I just don’t care. I took off my wedding ring and seemingly there was a memo sent out on the man network saying FRESH MEAT or something but I just can’t help but think NO WAY to that. There are days I fear that since my heart is so damaged there will never be any true way to repair it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=15untitled-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/15untitled-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRRRR ok, that seems to be another bad topic. I have also been dealing with having to start over completely when it comes to stuff for my house. I allowed my husband to keep everything since he managed to keep my kids and they would need it. I am having to rebuild everything from forks and spoons to towels and sheets. The only thing I kept from the house was my library (since he doesn’t read anyway) and my personal computer since he has his own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=3b54b5cf6b66c2c9dde200faf6751bbd.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/3b54b5cf6b66c2c9dde200faf6751bbd.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t really understand everything about divorce but it seems that after all this time, and with millions of people divorcing every year, then it should be easier somehow. I just feel so lost and alone most days that I am not sure whether I am coming or going. I am glad to be in a better place than I was in my marriage, but I have been part of a whole for so long I fear not being able to be a whole by myself. I have so many fears about being alone and not being able to cut it that I also fear the fear if that makes any sense. Ok, enough rambling from me for the day, a quick picture of my brother and myself at one of his wrestling shows for your viewing pleasure, and then I am going to retire from the online life for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/family/?action=view&amp;current=tomandi.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/family/tomandi.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4825407648708168414?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4825407648708168414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4825407648708168414&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4825407648708168414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4825407648708168414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2008/02/busy-busy-busy.html' title='Busy Busy Busy'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/th_zap.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1723201667201125491</id><published>2008-01-16T10:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T10:33:02.593-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/?action=view&amp;current=zap.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/zap.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first Spiderman movie Spidie’s uncle Ben says “with great power comes great responsibility”. Those words have been running round and round my mind these last few weeks. Except with me they take sound like this: “with great responsibility you must have great power”. I know this doesn’t make any sense to anyone but it hopefully soon will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have these four amazing kids. They are my joy and my responsibility. They are also my greatest weakness. They have held me in a position, afraid to move, for years. I didn’t want to hurt them. Lately though, they are the ones in danger as well as myself, so now I must take action. I am going to find my power and get them out of what I have done to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Main Entry: &lt;br /&gt;free·dom &lt;br /&gt;Pronunciation: &lt;br /&gt;\ˈfrē-dəm\ &lt;br /&gt;Function: &lt;br /&gt;noun &lt;br /&gt;Date: &lt;br /&gt;before 12th century &lt;br /&gt;1: the quality or state of being free: as a: the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action b: liberation from slavery or restraint or from the power of another : INDEPENDENCE c: the quality or state of being exempt or released usually from something onerous &lt;freedom from care&gt; d: EASE FACILITY &lt;spoke the language with freedom&gt; e: the quality of being frank, open, or outspoken &lt;answered with freedom&gt; f: improper familiarity g: boldness of conception or execution h: unrestricted use &lt;gave him the freedom of their home&gt;2 a: a political right b: FRANCHISE PRIVILEGE&lt;br /&gt;synonyms FREEDOM LIBERTY LICENSE mean the power or condition of acting without compulsion. FREEDOM has a broad range of application from total absence of restraint to merely a sense of not being unduly hampered or frustrated &lt;freedom of the press&gt;. LIBERTY suggests release from former restraint or compulsion &lt;the released prisoner had difficulty adjusting to his new liberty&gt;. LICENSE implies freedom specially granted or conceded and may connote an abuse of freedom &lt;freedom without responsibility may degenerate into license&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the new year comes many changes. This blog with the new year will take new shape, new meaning. I will use it to document my battle for my heart and soul, for my children and myself. I will use it to chronicle the changes I undergo and the steps I take to be free. There is nothing that will stop me from becoming who I was destined to be, a free woman of sound mind and body. The poisoning of the past years will be healed from and I will rise like a phoenix from the ashes to begin again with my children at my side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/?action=view&amp;current=MartinLutherKing.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/Words/MartinLutherKing.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1723201667201125491?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1723201667201125491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1723201667201125491&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1723201667201125491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1723201667201125491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2008/01/welcome-2008.html' title='Welcome 2008'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee232/DixieChic77/dividers/th_zap.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8079890824745372144</id><published>2007-11-15T08:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T08:16:50.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality By Dessert!</title><content type='html'>If all of the desserts listed below were sitting in front of you, which would you choose (sorry, you can only pick one!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don't cheat on this one, go with the first dessert you choose!!! Trust me....this is very accurate. Pick your dessert, &lt;br /&gt;and then look to see what psychiatrists think about you. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are your choices:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Angel Food Cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Brownies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Lemon Meringue Pie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Vanilla Cake With Chocolate Icing &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Strawberry Short Cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Chocolate on Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Ice Cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Carrot Cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No!!!!! you can't change your mind once you scroll down, so think carefully what your choice will be.............. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK - Now that you've made your choice this is what the research says about you... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCROLL DOWN--- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 ANGEL FOOD CAKE -- Sweet, loving, cuddly. You love all warm and fuzzy items. A little nutty at times. Sometimes you need an ice cream cone at the end of the day. Others perceive you as being ch ildlike and immature at times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. BROWNIES - - You are adventurous, love new ideas, and are a champion of underdogs and a slayer of dragons. When tempers flare up you whip out your saber. You are always the oddball with a unique sense of humor and direction. You tend to be very loyal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. LEMON MERINGUE -- Smooth, sexy, &amp; articulate with your hands, you are an excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit of a diva at times, but you have many friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. VANILLA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE ICING -- Fun-loving, sassy, humorous, not very grounded in life; very indecisive and lack motivation. Everyone enjoys being around you, but you are a practical joker. Others should be cautious in making you mad. However, you are a friend for life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE -- Romantic, warm, loving. You care about other people, can be counted on in a pinch and expect the same in return. Intuitively keen. Can be very emotional. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. CHOCOLATE ON CHOCOLATE -- Sexy; always ready to give and receive. Very creative, adventurous, ambitious, and passionate. You can appear to have a cold exterior but are warm on the inside. Not afraid to take chances. Will not settle for anything average in life. Love to laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. ICE CREAM -- You like sports, whether it be baseball, football, basketball, or soccer. If you could, you would like to participate, but you enjoy watching sports. You don't like to give up the remote control. You tend to be self-centered and high maintenance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. CARROT CAKE -- You are a very fun loving person, who likes to laugh. You are fun to be with. People like to hang out with you. You are a very warm hearted person and a little quirky at times. You have many loyal friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8079890824745372144?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8079890824745372144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8079890824745372144&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8079890824745372144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8079890824745372144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/personality-by-dessert.html' title='Personality By Dessert!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3903850078707480462</id><published>2007-11-15T08:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T08:09:16.848-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you can start the day without caffeine, &lt;br /&gt;If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,&lt;br /&gt;If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time, &lt;br /&gt;If you can take criticism and blame without resentment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can ignore a friend's limited education and never correct him,&lt;br /&gt;If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can conquer tension without medical help, &lt;br /&gt;If you can relax without liquor, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then You Are Probably The Family Dog! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/untitled26.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3903850078707480462?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3903850078707480462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3903850078707480462&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3903850078707480462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3903850078707480462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/if-you-can-start-day-without-caffeine.html' title=''/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_untitled26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2280517042305242740</id><published>2007-11-15T07:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T08:03:27.691-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Coolest Thing On The Net Right Now</title><content type='html'>I know this is being shown all over the net and in many many emails..I think I have recieved half a dozen about it myself..but..I felt it was worth one more showing. I can see it spinning both ways..wonder what that says about me? Does it mean I am in balance within myself I wonder? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This silhouette wins the award for coolest thing we've seen all day . This is a little test that will tell you whether the left or right hemisphere of your brain is more dominant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concentrate on the woman's movement. If you see her spinning clockwise, that means you're using the right side, or more creative side of your brain. If she appears to be moving counter-clockwise, then that means the left side, or more logical side of your think muscle is superior. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/ATT2190331.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2280517042305242740?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2280517042305242740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2280517042305242740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2280517042305242740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2280517042305242740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/coolest-thing-on-net-right-now.html' title='Coolest Thing On The Net Right Now'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_ATT2190331.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4846832812271051982</id><published>2007-11-14T13:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T13:14:19.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words</title><content type='html'>A picture began circulating in November. It should be "The Picture of the Year," or perhaps, "Picture of the Decade." It won't be. In fact,unless you obtained a copy of the US paper which published it, you probably &lt;br /&gt;would never have seen it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture is that of a 21-week-old unborn baby named Samuel Alexander Armas, who is being operated on by surgeon named Joseph Bruner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby was diagnosed with spina bifida and would not survive if removed from his mother's womb. Little Samuel's mother, Julie Armas, is an obstetrics nurse in Atlanta . She knew of Dr. Bruner's remarkable &lt;br /&gt;surgical procedure. Practicing at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville , he performs these special operations while the baby is still in the womb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the procedure, the doctor removes the uterus via C-section and makes a small incision to operate on the baby. As Dr.Bruner completed the surgery on Samuel, the little guy reached his tiny, but fully developed&lt;br /&gt;hand through the incision and firmly grasped the surgeon's finger. Dr.Bruner was reported as saying that when his finger was grasped, it was the most emotional moment of his life, and that for an instant during the procedure he was just frozen, totally immobile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photograph captures this amazing event with perfect clarity. The editors titled the picture, "Hand of Hope." The text explaining the picture begins, "The tiny hand of 21-week- old fetus Samuel Alexander Armas emerges from the mother's uterus to grasp the finger of Dr. Joseph Bruner as if thanking the doctor for the gift of life." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Samuel's mother said they "wept for days" when they saw the picture. She said, "The photo reminds us pregnancy isn't about disability or an illness, it's about a little person."Samuel was born in perfect health, the operation 100 percent successful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now see the actual picture, and it is awesome...incredible....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/image0012114.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4846832812271051982?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4846832812271051982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4846832812271051982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4846832812271051982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4846832812271051982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/picture-is-worth-thousand-words.html' title='A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_image0012114.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3653557223076951639</id><published>2007-11-14T12:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T13:01:14.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Graveyard</title><content type='html'>Two women go out one weekend without their husbands. As they came back, right before dawn, both of them drunk, they felt the urge to pee. They noticed the only place to stop was a cemetary. Scared and drunk, they decided to go there anyways. The first one did not have anything to clean herself with, so she took off her panties and used them to clean herself and discarded them. The second not finding anything either, thought "I'm not getting rid of my panties..." so she used the ribbon of a flower wreath to clean herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning after the two husbands were talking to each other on the phone and one says to the other:&lt;br /&gt;"We have to be on the look-out, it seems that these two were up to no good last night, my wife came home without her panties..."&lt;br /&gt;The other responded: "Your lucky,mine came home with a card stuck to her ass that read, 'We will never forget you'."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3653557223076951639?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3653557223076951639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3653557223076951639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3653557223076951639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3653557223076951639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/graveyard.html' title='The Graveyard'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7396480349425479856</id><published>2007-11-14T12:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T12:28:16.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy Oh Boy</title><content type='html'>A cabbie picks up a nun. She gets into the cab, and notices that the VERY handsome cab driver won't stop staring at her. She asks him why he is staring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replies: "I have a question to ask you but I don't want to offend you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She answers, "My son, you cannot offend me. When you're as old as I am and have been a nun as long as I have, you get a chance to see and hear just about everything. I'm sure that there's nothing you could say or ask that I would find offensive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I've always had a fantasy to have a nun kiss me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She responds, "Well, let's see what we can do about that: #1, you have to be single and #2, you must be Catholic."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cab driver is very excited and says, "Yes, I'm single and Catholic!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK" the nun says. "Pull into the next alley."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nun fulfills his fantasy with a kiss that would make a hooker blush. But when they get back on the road, the cab driver starts crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My dear child," said the nun, why are you crying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forgive me but I've sinned. I lied and I must confess, I'm married and I'm Jewish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nun says, "That's OK. My name is Kevin and I'm going to a Halloween party."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7396480349425479856?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7396480349425479856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7396480349425479856&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7396480349425479856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7396480349425479856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/boy-oh-boy.html' title='Boy Oh Boy'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3596178181834113406</id><published>2007-11-14T12:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T12:22:22.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bobbit Family Update</title><content type='html'>In a recent news broadcast, it was announced that Lorena Bobbitt's sister Louella was arrested for an alleged attempt to perform the same act on her  husband as her famous sister had done several years  ago. Sources reveal the sister was not as accurate  as Lorena. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She allegedly missed the target  and stabbed her husband in the upper thigh causing  severe muscle and tendon damage. The husband is  reported to be in serious, but stable condition, and  Louella has been charged with......   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;?    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Misdewiener!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3596178181834113406?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3596178181834113406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3596178181834113406&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3596178181834113406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3596178181834113406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-recent-news-broadcast-it-was.html' title='Bobbit Family Update'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7115369609193098384</id><published>2007-11-09T02:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T02:10:41.097-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Teachers And Police Do Have Their Moments !</title><content type='html'>New York City Report Cards - These are actual comments made on students' report cards by teachers in the New York City public school system. All teachers were reprimanded but, boy, are these funny!!! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1. Since my last report, your child has reached rock bottom and has started to dig. &lt;br /&gt;2. I would not allow this student to breed. &lt;br /&gt;3. Your child has delusions of adequacy. &lt;br /&gt;4. Your son is depriving a village somewhere of an idiot. &lt;br /&gt;5. Your son sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them. &lt;br /&gt;6. The student has a 'full six-pack' but lacks the plastic thing to hold it all together. &lt;br /&gt;7. This child has been working with glue too much. &lt;br /&gt;8. When your daughter's IQ reaches 50, she should sell. &lt;br /&gt;9. The gates are down, the lights are flashing, but the train isn't coming. &lt;br /&gt;10. If this student were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week. &lt;br /&gt;11. It's impossible to believe the sperm that created this child beat out 1,000,000 others. &lt;br /&gt;12. The wheel is turning but the hamster is definitely dead. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;These 16 Police Comments were taken off actual police car videos around the country: &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;16 'You know, stop lights don't come any redder than the one you just went through.' &lt;br /&gt;15 'Relax, the handcuffs are tight because they're new. They'll stretch after you wear them a while.' &lt;br /&gt;14 'If you take your hands off the car, I'll make your birth certificate a worthless document.' &lt;br /&gt;13 'If you run, you'll only go to jail tired.' &lt;br /&gt;12 'Can you run faster than 1200 feet per second? Because that's the speed of the bullet that'll be chasing you.' &lt;br /&gt;11 'You don't know how fast you were going? I guess that means I can write anything I want to on the ticket, huh?' &lt;br /&gt;10 'Yes, sir, you can talk to the shift supervisor, but I don't think it will help. Oh, did I mention that I'm the shift supervisor?' &lt;br /&gt;9 'Warning! You want a warning? O.K., I'm warning you not to do that again or I'll give you another ticket.' &lt;br /&gt;8 'The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not. Was Mickey Mouse a cat or a dog?' &lt;br /&gt;7 'Fair? You want me to be fair? Listen, fair is a place where you go to ride on rides, eat cotton candy and corn dogs and step in monkey poop.' &lt;br /&gt;6 'Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven.' &lt;br /&gt;5 'In God we trust, all others we run through NCIC.' &lt;br /&gt;4 'How big were those 'two beers' you say you had?' &lt;br /&gt;3 'No sir, we don't have quotas anymore. We used to, but now we're allowed to write as many tickets as we can.' &lt;br /&gt;2 'I'm glad to hear that the Chief (of Police) is a personal friend of yours. So you know someone who can post your bail.' &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;AND THE WINNER IS.... &lt;br /&gt;1 'You didn't think we give pretty women tickets?  You're right, we don't. Sign here.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/stupid-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7115369609193098384?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7115369609193098384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7115369609193098384&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7115369609193098384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7115369609193098384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/teachers-and-police-do-have-their.html' title='Teachers And Police Do Have Their Moments !'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_stupid-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2522325548907905493</id><published>2007-11-09T02:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T02:04:42.641-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Recipe Idea</title><content type='html'>Your dinner will be the talk of the TOWN!! &lt;br /&gt;You should try this! &lt;br /&gt;Sure to bring smiles from your guests! &lt;br /&gt;Here is a new way to prepare your Thanksgiving Turkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cut out aluminum foil in desired shapes. &lt;br /&gt;2. Arrange the turkey in the roasting pan, position the foil carefully.  (see attached picture for details) &lt;br /&gt;3. Roast according to your own recipe and serve.&lt;br /&gt;4. Watch your guests' faces...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/untitled27.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2522325548907905493?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2522325548907905493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2522325548907905493&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2522325548907905493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2522325548907905493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/your-dinner-will-be-talk-of-town-you.html' title='Great Recipe Idea'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_untitled27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7768329056401190817</id><published>2007-11-09T01:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T01:59:24.165-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things You Should Know But Probably Don't</title><content type='html'>1. Money isn't made out of paper. It's made out of cotton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The Declaration of Independence was written on hemp (marijuana) paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The dot over the letter "i"  is called a "tittle".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A raisin dropped into a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up and down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Susan Lucci is the daughter of Phyllis Diller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. 40% of McDonald's profits come from the sales of Happy Meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. 315 entries in Webster's 1996 Dictionary were misspelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.The 'spot' on 7-UP comes from its inventor, who had red eyes. He was albino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.On average,12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents, daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Warren Beatty and Shirley MacLaine are brother &amp; sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Chocolate affects a dog's heart &amp; nervous system: a few ounces will kill a small-sized dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Orcas (killer whales) kill sharks by torpedoing up into the shark's stomach from underneath, causing the shark to explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Most lipstick contains fish scales (eeww).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Ketchup was sold in the 1830's as medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.Upper &amp; lower case letters are named that  because. in the time when all original print had to be set in individual letters, the 'upper case' letters were stored in the case on top of the case that stored the smaller, 'lower case' letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Leonardo DaVinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time, hence, multitasking was invented.&lt;br /&gt;18. Because metal was scarce, the Oscars given out during World War II were made of wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. There are no clocks in Las Vegas gambling casinos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. The name Wendy was made up for the book, "Peter Pan"; there was never a recorded Wendy before!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. There are no words in the dictionary that rhyme with: orange, purple, and silver! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Leonardo DaVinci invented scissors.. Also, it took him 10 years to paint Mona Lisa's lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. A tiny amount of liquor on a scorpion will make it instantly go mad and sting itself to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. The mask used by Michale Myers in the original "Halloween" was a Captain Kirk's mask painted white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.If you have three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies, you have $1.19. You also have the largest amount of money in coins without being able to make change for a dollar (good to know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you  can't sink in quicksand (and you thought this list was completely useless).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law, which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. The first product Motorola started to develop was a record player for automobiles. At that time, the most-known player on the market was the Victrola, so they called themselves Motorola.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29, Celery has negative calories! It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it to begin with. It's the same with apples!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from Public Libraries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because passing wind in a space suit damages it. I NEED TO REMEMBER THIS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. George Carlin said it best about Martha Stewart. "Boy, I feel a lot safer now that she's behind bars. OJ Simpson and Kobe Bryant are still walking around. Osama Bin Laden, too, but they take the ONE woman in America willing to cook, clean and work in the yard, and they haul her  off to jail."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/bunny.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7768329056401190817?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7768329056401190817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7768329056401190817&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7768329056401190817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7768329056401190817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/things-you-should-know-but-probably.html' title='Things You Should Know But Probably Don&apos;t'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_bunny.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8331173039065055360</id><published>2007-11-09T01:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T01:50:12.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Really Bad Joke!</title><content type='html'>A blonde was weed-eating her yard and accidentally cut the tail off of her cat which was hiding in the grass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rushed her cat, along with the tail over to WAL*MART! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why WAL*MART??? &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;v &lt;br /&gt;WAL*MART is the largest retailer in the world!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u96/elphaba1417/ththwall-mart.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8331173039065055360?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8331173039065055360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8331173039065055360&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8331173039065055360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8331173039065055360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/really-bad-joke.html' title='A Really Bad Joke!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7795500627733695608</id><published>2007-11-09T01:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T01:43:36.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A married couple was on holiday in Jamaica. They were touring around the marketplace looking at the goods and such when they passed this small sandal shop. From inside they heard the shopkeeper with a Jamaican accent say, 'You foreigners! Come in. Come into my humble shop!' &lt;br /&gt;So they walked in, and the Jamaican said, 'I have some special sandals I tink you would be interested in... Dey make you wild at sex. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'The wife got really interested in buying the sandals, but the husband felt he really didn't need them, being the sex god he was.&lt;br /&gt;The husband asked the shopkeeper, 'How could sandals make you into a sexfreak? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'The Jamaican replied, 'Just try dem on, Mon. You doan haff to do nutting cept try dem on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So the husband, after some badgering from his wife, finally gave in, and tried them on. As soon as he slipped them onto his feet, he got this wild look in his eyes, something his wife hadn't seen in many years! In the blink of an eye, the husband grabbed the Jamaican, bent him violently over a table, yanked down his pants, ripped down his own pants, and grabbed a firm hold of the Jamaican's hips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jamaican began screaming, 'You got dem on da wrong feet! Mon, you got dem on da wrong feet!'...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w259/aliciaisabel/V247745_WHTBKGRD.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7795500627733695608?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7795500627733695608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7795500627733695608&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7795500627733695608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7795500627733695608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/married-couple-was-on-holiday-in.html' title=''/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4228235160759296321</id><published>2007-11-09T01:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T01:38:14.480-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The History of Manure</title><content type='html'>Manure:  In the 16th and 17th centuries, everything had to be transported by ship and it was also before commercial fertilizer's invention, so large shipments of manure were common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was shipped dry, because in dry form it weighed a lot less than when wet, but once water (at sea) hit it, it not only became heavier, but the process of fermentation began again, of which a by product is methane gas. As the stuff was stored below decks in bundles you can see what could(and did) happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Methane began to build up below decks and the first time someone came below at night with a lantern, BOOOOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several ships were destroyed in this manner before it was determined just what was happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, the bundles of manure were always stamped with  &lt;br /&gt;the term "Ship High In Transit" on them, which meant for the sailors to  &lt;br /&gt;stow it high enough off the lower decks so that any water that came into the hold would not touch this volatile cargo and start the production of methane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus evolved the term "S.H.I.T " , (Ship High In Transport)which&lt;br /&gt;has come down through the centuries and is in use to this very day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You probably did not know the true history of this word.! &lt;br /&gt;Neither did I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had always thought it was a golf term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/pieceofshitstamp.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4228235160759296321?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4228235160759296321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4228235160759296321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4228235160759296321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4228235160759296321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/history-of-manure.html' title='The History of Manure'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_pieceofshitstamp.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5166509007498773745</id><published>2007-11-08T08:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T08:11:14.182-06:00</updated><title type='text'>True E.R. Stories</title><content type='html'>FEMALE SOFA----- A 500 lb. woman from Illinois was examined in a hospital. During the examination, an asthma inhaler fell from under her armpit, a dime was found under one of her breasts and a remote control was found lodged between the folds of her vulva. eeewwwww..... &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;PRICKLY PAIR-----OUCH! In Michigan , a man came into the ER with lacerations to his penis. He complained that his wife had "...a rat in her privates..." which bit him during sex (not the first conclusion I would have drawn, I don't think). After an examination of his wife, it was revealed that she had a surgical needle left inside &lt;br /&gt;her after a recent hysterectomy. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;PING PONG ANY ONE? ----- A 20 year old man came into the ER with a stony mass in his rectum. He said that he and his boyfriend were fooling around with concrete mix, when his boyfriend had the idea of pouring the mix into his anus using a funnel (you'd do the same, I'm sure!)?!!. The concrete then hardened, (no sh*t Sherlock!), causing constipation and pain. Under general anesthesia, a perfect concrete cast of the man's rectum was removed along with a ping pong ball. (Boy - we live sheltered lives!) &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;BLIND DRUNK----- A drunk staggered into a Pennsylvania ER complaining of severe pain while trying to remove his contact lenses. He said that they would come out halfway, but they always popped back in. A nurse tried to help using a suction pump, but without success. Finally, a doctor examined him and discovered the man did not have his contact lenses in at all. He had been trying to rip out the membrane of his cornea.(Oh my gosh!!!) &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;OUCH AND DOUBLE OUCH! ----- A couple hobbled into a Washington State emergency room covered in bloody restaurant towels. The man had his hands around his abdomen and the woman had hers around her head. They eventually explained to doctors that they had gone out that evening for a romantic dinner. Overcome with passion, the woman crept under the table to administer oral sex to the man.  (Classy or  what?). While in the act, she had an epileptic fit, which caused her to clamp down on the man's penis and wrench it from side to side. In agony and desperation, the man grabbed a fork and stabbed her in the head until she let go. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And you thought YOU were having a bad day!!!! I'm still laughing!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u244/geeslueese79/thtemp-nurse2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5166509007498773745?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5166509007498773745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5166509007498773745&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5166509007498773745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5166509007498773745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/true-er-stories.html' title='True E.R. Stories'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7634598320603933080</id><published>2007-11-08T07:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T08:00:54.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Start Each Day With A Positive Outlook</title><content type='html'>1. Open a new file in your computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Name it "Hillary Rodham Clinton"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Send it to the trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Empty the trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Your PC will ask you, "Do you really want to get rid of Hillary Rodham Clinton?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Firmly Click "Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Next week we'll do Nancy Pelosi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does a HillBilly look like? Scroll down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/stars/untitled-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7634598320603933080?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7634598320603933080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7634598320603933080&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7634598320603933080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7634598320603933080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-to-start-each-day-with-positive.html' title='How To Start Each Day With A Positive Outlook'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/stars/th_untitled-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-911330130689228385</id><published>2007-11-08T07:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T07:38:33.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Florida State Trooper</title><content type='html'>A Florida senior citizen drove his brand new&lt;br /&gt;Corvette convertible out of the dealership. Taking off&lt;br /&gt;down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the&lt;br /&gt;wind blowing through what little hair he had&lt;br /&gt;left."Amazing, " he thought as he flew down I-75,&lt;br /&gt;pushing down the pedal even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw the state&lt;br /&gt;trooper behind him, blue lights flashing and siren&lt;br /&gt;blaring. He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly he thought,"What am I doing? I'm too old&lt;br /&gt;for this," and pulled over to await the trooper's&lt;br /&gt;arrival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulling in behind him, the trooper walked up to the&lt;br /&gt;Corvette, looked at his watch and said, "Sir, my shift&lt;br /&gt;ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday.&lt;br /&gt;If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've&lt;br /&gt;never heard before, I'll let you go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old gentleman paused, then said, "Years ago, my&lt;br /&gt;wife ran off with a Florida State Trooper. I thought&lt;br /&gt;you were bringing her back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have a good day, Sir," replied the trooper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care and God Bless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r157/BlackSkyline31/police2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-911330130689228385?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/911330130689228385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=911330130689228385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/911330130689228385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/911330130689228385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/florida-state-trooper.html' title='Florida State Trooper'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7609580132351897323</id><published>2007-11-08T07:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T07:29:38.972-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Try Not To Cry</title><content type='html'>She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: "How is my little boy ? Is he going to be all right ? When can I see him ?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't mak e it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer ? Doesn't God care any more ? Where were you, God, when my son needed you ?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son ? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. "Would you like a lock of his hair ?" the nurse asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. "I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom." She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the bed was a folded letter The letter said: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say "I Love You". I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. Yo&lt;br /&gt;u'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD ! And guess what, Mom!? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom ? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him 'Where was He when I neede d him ?' "God said He was in the same&lt;br /&gt;place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children. Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn't that cool ? I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed with Love from God, Jesus &amp; Me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u94/donmafioso7/cross.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7609580132351897323?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7609580132351897323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7609580132351897323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7609580132351897323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7609580132351897323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/she-jumped-up-as-soon-as-she-saw.html' title='Try Not To Cry'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7849290784288291877</id><published>2007-11-08T07:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T07:20:44.945-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bathtub Test</title><content type='html'>During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked&lt;br /&gt;the Director how do&lt;br /&gt;you determine whether or not a patient should be&lt;br /&gt;institutionalized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub,&lt;br /&gt; then we offer a&lt;br /&gt; teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and&lt;br /&gt; ask him or her to empty&lt;br /&gt; the bathtub." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal&lt;br /&gt; person would use the&lt;br /&gt; bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the&lt;br /&gt; teacup."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"No." said the Director, "A normal person would pull&lt;br /&gt; the plug. Do you want&lt;br /&gt; a bed near the window?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i164.photobucket.com/albums/u4/rainbow_zen/bathtub1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7849290784288291877?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7849290784288291877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7849290784288291877&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7849290784288291877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7849290784288291877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/bathtub-test.html' title='The Bathtub Test'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2247402476936500336</id><published>2007-11-07T08:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T08:28:59.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Say Another Word!</title><content type='html'>A police officer pulls over a speeding car. The officer says, " I clocked you at 80 miles per hour, sir."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver says, "Gee, officer I had it on cruise control at 60, perhaps your radar gun needs calibrating."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not looking up from her knitting the wife says: "Now don't be silly dear, you know that this car doesn't have cruise control."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the officer writes out the ticket, the driver looks over at his wife and growls, "Can't you please keep your mouth shut for once?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife smiles demurely and says, "You should be thankful your radar detector went off when it did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the officer makes out the second ticket for the illegal radar detector unit, the man glowers at his wife and says through&lt;br /&gt;clenched teeth, "Damit, woman, can't you keep your mouth shut?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer frowns and says, "And I notice that you're not wearing your seat belt, sir. That's an automatic $75 fine." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver says, "Yeah, well, you see officer, I had it on, but took it off when you pulled me over so that I could get my license out of my back pocket."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife says, "Now, dear, you know very well that you didn't have your seat belt on. You never wear your seat belt when you're driving."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as the police officer is writing out the third ticket the driver turns to his wife and barks, "WHY DON'T YOU PLEASE SHUT UP??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer looks over at the woman and asks, "Does your husband always talk to you this way, Ma'am?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this part....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Only when he's been drinking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m57/mander_10/budlite.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2247402476936500336?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2247402476936500336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2247402476936500336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2247402476936500336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2247402476936500336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/dont-say-another-word.html' title='Don&apos;t Say Another Word!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7041959186441656966</id><published>2007-11-07T08:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T08:18:42.919-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hospital Humor</title><content type='html'>Actual writings on hospital charts: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. she has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night. &lt;br /&gt;2. Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year. &lt;br /&gt;3. On the second day the knee was better, and on the third day it disappeared. &lt;br /&gt;4. The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed. &lt;br /&gt;5. The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993. &lt;br /&gt;6. Discharge status: Alive but without my permission. &lt;br /&gt;7. Healthy appearing decrepit 69 years old male, mentally alert but forgetful. &lt;br /&gt;8. The patient refused autopsy. &lt;br /&gt;9. The patient has no previous history of suicides. &lt;br /&gt;10. Patient has left white blood cells at another hospital. &lt;br /&gt;11. Patient's medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40 pound weight gain in the past &lt;br /&gt;three days. &lt;br /&gt;12. Patient had waffles for breakfast and a norexia for lunch. &lt;br /&gt;13. She is numb from her toes down. &lt;br /&gt;14. While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home. &lt;br /&gt;15. The skin was moist and dry. &lt;br /&gt;16. Occasional, constant infrequent headaches. &lt;br /&gt;17. Patient was alert and unresponsive. &lt;br /&gt;18. Rectal examination revealed a normal size thyroid. &lt;br /&gt;19. She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life, until she got a divorce. &lt;br /&gt;20. I saw your patient today, who is still under our car for physical therapy. &lt;br /&gt;21. Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation. &lt;br /&gt;22. Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized. &lt;br /&gt;23. The lab test indicated abnormal lover function. &lt;br /&gt;24. The patient was to have a bowel resection. However, he took a job as a stock broker instead. &lt;br /&gt;25. Skin: somewhat pale but present. &lt;br /&gt;26. The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor. &lt;br /&gt;27. Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Blank, who felt we should sit on the abdomen and I agree. &lt;br /&gt;28. Large brown stool ambulating in the hall. &lt;br /&gt;29. Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u289/Risu21/nurse.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7041959186441656966?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7041959186441656966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7041959186441656966&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7041959186441656966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7041959186441656966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/hospital-humor.html' title='Hospital Humor'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7016388710532392318</id><published>2007-11-07T08:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T08:12:42.422-06:00</updated><title type='text'>George Carlin's New Rules</title><content type='html'>New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com ! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days --- mowing my lawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Lobster? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged . I have a better description for these kids: 'Lucky bastards.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're a dope. If you're a kid, the cards are keep sakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: Do you have two of them? Good, we're done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule:There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but, without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt That's your flavored water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a 'decaf grandee, half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low, and One NutraSweet,' ooooh, you're a huge asshole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering My PIN number, pressing 'Enter,' verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want Cash back, and pressing 'Enter' again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up Is standing there eating my Almond Joy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you Spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to 'beef with broccoli.' The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN Recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait, they're already doing that. It's called 'The Howard Stern Show.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&amp;Ms. If I'm extra hungry for M&amp;Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule:If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: And this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell If he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your webcam, Dude. I just want to wash my hands &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to hear '27 months.' 'He's two' will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule: If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh.  If so, then plan your future around saying, 'Do you want fries with that?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee10/FloridaBoy89/Feature-5Bweb5D_article.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7016388710532392318?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7016388710532392318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7016388710532392318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7016388710532392318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7016388710532392318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/george-carlins-new-rules.html' title='George Carlin&apos;s New Rules'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1696815345043220313</id><published>2007-11-07T07:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T08:07:22.627-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom I Went To A Party</title><content type='html'>I went to a party,&lt;br /&gt; And remembered what you said.&lt;br /&gt; You told me not to drink, Mom,&lt;br /&gt; so I had a sprite instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I felt proud of myself,&lt;br /&gt; The way you said I would,&lt;br /&gt; that I didn't drink and drive,&lt;br /&gt; though some friends said I should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I made a healthy choice,&lt;br /&gt; And your advice to me was right.&lt;br /&gt; The party finally ended,&lt;br /&gt; and the kids drove out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I got into my car,&lt;br /&gt; Sure to get home in one piece.&lt;br /&gt; I never knew what was coming, Mom,&lt;br /&gt; something I expected least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now I'm lying on the pavement,&lt;br /&gt; And I hear the policeman say,&lt;br /&gt; the kid that caused this wreck was drunk,&lt;br /&gt; Mom, his voice seems far away.&lt;br /&gt; My own blood's all around me,&lt;br /&gt; As I try hard not to cry.&lt;br /&gt; I can hear the paramedic say,&lt;br /&gt; this girl is going to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm sure the guy had no idea,&lt;br /&gt; While he was flying high.&lt;br /&gt; Because he chose to drink and drive,&lt;br /&gt; now I would have to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So why do people do it, Mom&lt;br /&gt; Knowing that it ruins lives?&lt;br /&gt; And now the pain is cutting me,&lt;br /&gt; like a hundred stabbing knives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Tell sister not to be afraid, Mom&lt;br /&gt; Tell daddy to be brave.&lt;br /&gt; And when I go to heaven,&lt;br /&gt; put " Mommy's Girl" on my grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Someone should have taught him,&lt;br /&gt; That it's wrong to drink and drive.&lt;br /&gt; Maybe if his parents had,&lt;br /&gt; I'd still be alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My breath is getting shorter,&lt;br /&gt; Mom I'm getting really scared&lt;br /&gt; These are my final moments,&lt;br /&gt; and I'm so unprepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I wish that you could hold me Mom,&lt;br /&gt; As I lie here and die.&lt;br /&gt; I wish that I could say, "I love you, Mom!"&lt;br /&gt; So I love you! and goo d-bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1696815345043220313?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1696815345043220313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1696815345043220313&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1696815345043220313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1696815345043220313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/mom-i-went-to-party.html' title='Mom I Went To A Party'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6838296788090055289</id><published>2007-11-07T07:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T07:55:11.935-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexican Oysters</title><content type='html'>This is sort of risque, but, soooooo funny!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A big Texan stopped at a local restaurant, following a day roaming around in Mexico . While sipping his tequila, he noticed a sizzling, scrumptious looking platter being served at the next table. Not only did it look good, the smell was wonderful. He asked the waiter, &lt;br /&gt;"What  is that you just served?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter replied, "Ah senor, you have excellent taste! Those are called Cojones de Toro, bull's testicles from the bull fight this morning. A delicacy!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cowboy said, "What the heck, bring me an order."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter replied, "I am so sorry senor. There is only one serving per day because there is only one bull fight each morning. If you come early and place your order, we will be sure to save you this delicacy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, the cowboy returned, placed his order, and that evening was served the one and only special delicacy of the day. After a few bites, inspecting his platter, he called to the waiter and said, "These  are delicious, but they are much, much smaller than &lt;br /&gt;the ones I saw you serve yesterday." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Si, Senor. Sometimes the bull wins &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u68/hotbody_08/new.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6838296788090055289?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6838296788090055289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6838296788090055289&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6838296788090055289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6838296788090055289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/11/mexican-oysters.html' title='Mexican Oysters'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1437595004903672671</id><published>2007-10-15T15:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T15:43:01.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Clean Your Toilet</title><content type='html'>1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and rinse". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1437595004903672671?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1437595004903672671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1437595004903672671&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1437595004903672671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1437595004903672671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/how-to-clean-your-toilet.html' title='How To Clean Your Toilet'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7632783928200127638</id><published>2007-10-15T15:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T15:27:45.969-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Doll And The Rose</title><content type='html'>I was walking around in a Target store, &lt;br /&gt;when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cashier said, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny,&lt;br /&gt;are you sure I don't have enough money?'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to&lt;br /&gt;buy this doll, my dear.'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went&lt;br /&gt;to look around. She left quickly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give&lt;br /&gt;this doll to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for&lt;br /&gt;Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after &lt;br /&gt;all, and not to worry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he replied to me sadly. "No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her&lt;br /&gt;where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can&lt;br /&gt;give it to my sister when she goes there." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His eyes were so sad while saying this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My Sister has gone to be&lt;br /&gt;with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I&lt;br /&gt;thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart nearly stopped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy looked up at me and said: "I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He&lt;br /&gt;then told me "I want mommy to take my picture with her so she &lt;br /&gt;won't&lt;br /&gt;forget me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I love my mommy  and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. "Suppose we&lt;br /&gt;check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK" he said, "I hope I do have enough." I added some of my money to&lt;br /&gt;his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for&lt;br /&gt;the doll and even some spare money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy said: "Thank you God for giving me enough money!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he looked at me and added, "I asked last night before I went to&lt;br /&gt;sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that&lt;br /&gt;mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my&lt;br /&gt;mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough&lt;br /&gt;to buy the doll and a white rose.'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My mommy loves white roses." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my&lt;br /&gt;basket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when &lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which&lt;br /&gt;mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young&lt;br /&gt;woman and a little girl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a&lt;br /&gt;critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the&lt;br /&gt;life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to&lt;br /&gt;recover from the coma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was this the family of the little boy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the&lt;br /&gt;newspaper that the young woman had passed away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went&lt;br /&gt;to the funeral home &lt;br /&gt;where the body of the young woman was exposed for&lt;br /&gt;people to see and make last wishes before her burial. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her&lt;br /&gt;hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over &lt;br /&gt;her&lt;br /&gt;chest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed&lt;br /&gt;forever.. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister&lt;br /&gt;is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a&lt;br /&gt;drunk driver had taken all this away from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u164/uganova824/whiterose.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7632783928200127638?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7632783928200127638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7632783928200127638&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7632783928200127638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7632783928200127638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/doll-and-rose.html' title='The Doll And The Rose'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3590140686391076611</id><published>2007-10-15T15:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T15:14:19.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Dinner</title><content type='html'>The family is sitting at the dinner table. The son asks his father, "Dad, how many kinds of boobies are there?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father, surprised, answers, "Well son, there's three kinds of breasts.  In her twenties, a woman's breasts are like melons, round &amp; firm. In her thirties &amp; forties, they are like pears, still nice, but hanging a bit.  After fifty, they are like onions." "Onions?" "Yes, you see them, and they make you cry." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This infuriated his wife and daughter so the daughter says, "Mom, how many types of "willies" are there?" The mother, surprised, smiles and answers. Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties, his willie is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties &amp; forties, it's like a birch tree, flexible but reliable. After his fifties, it is like a Christmas tree." "A Christmas tree??" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes dear, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration only."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i169.photobucket.com/albums/u202/priamos_1/Christmas/Tree/thChristmasTree.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3590140686391076611?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3590140686391076611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3590140686391076611&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3590140686391076611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3590140686391076611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/family-dinner.html' title='Family Dinner'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7757168338159514311</id><published>2007-10-11T06:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:59:10.687-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Before I Was A Mom</title><content type='html'>Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought about immunizations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom - I had never been puked on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooped on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chewed on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wet on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or give shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never looked into teary eyes and cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put him down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't Stop &lt;br /&gt;the hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew that I could love someone so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew I would love being a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important &lt;br /&gt;and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to &lt;br /&gt;make sure all was okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the &lt;br /&gt;wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s181/treasuresgoround/Product%20Images/34197.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7757168338159514311?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7757168338159514311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7757168338159514311&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7757168338159514311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7757168338159514311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/before-i-was-mom.html' title='Before I Was A Mom'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s181/treasuresgoround/Product%20Images/th_34197.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4609436785884018189</id><published>2007-10-11T06:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:48:06.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gay Flight Attendant</title><content type='html'>My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that "Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he'll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, "Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i104.photobucket.com/albums/m166/lizard2185/FAAS-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4609436785884018189?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4609436785884018189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4609436785884018189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4609436785884018189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4609436785884018189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/gay-flight-attendant.html' title='The Gay Flight Attendant'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3106425421229911268</id><published>2007-10-11T06:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:42:55.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling In Sick</title><content type='html'>Cat Lover or Not, this is hysterical!  We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate myexcuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying. On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I hadsustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the nextday. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage onthe top of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The accident occurred mainly because I had given into my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.Initially, the new acquisition was no problem. Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it." "You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patterand steam. "Reset it yourself!" "But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you asecond." So out I&lt;br /&gt;came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outragednudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last&lt;br /&gt;action I remember performing. It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.  No,it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from experience. I was&lt;br /&gt;fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter.....and not succeeding. Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back into the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about,which it was. "What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If they only knew! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u75/im100princess/CuteKitten.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3106425421229911268?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3106425421229911268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3106425421229911268&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3106425421229911268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3106425421229911268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/calling-in-sick.html' title='Calling In Sick'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2970577507338438949</id><published>2007-10-11T06:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:23:46.025-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth About Nurses</title><content type='html'>Did you hear about the nurse who died and went straight to hell? It took her two weeks to realize she wasn't at work!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You know you're a nurse if ......&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You would like to meet the inventor of the call light some night in a dark alley.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Your sense of humor gets more warped each year.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You know the smell of different diarrheas and can identify them.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You can tell the pharmacist more about the medication they are dispensing than they know.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You check the caller ID on your day off to see if anyone from the hospital is trying to call and ask you to work.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You've been telling stories in a restaurant and made someone at another table sick.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You notice that you are using more 4 letter words than you even knew before you started nursing.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Every time someone asks you for a pen you can find at least 4 of them on you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You live by the motto "to be right is only half the battle, to convince the doctor is more difficult."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You've told a confused patient that your name was that of your coworker and to holler if they need help.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Your bladder can expand to the size of a Winnebago's water tank.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You find yourself checking out other customer's veins in grocery waiting lines.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You avoid unhealthy looking shoppers in the mall for fear that they will drop near you and you'll have to do CPR on your day off.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Your finger has gone places you never thought possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have seen more penises than any prostitute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i199/hoofpoopants/NURSE-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2970577507338438949?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2970577507338438949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2970577507338438949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2970577507338438949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2970577507338438949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/did-you-hear-about-nurse-who-died-and.html' title='Truth About Nurses'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5429702496557453832</id><published>2007-10-11T06:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:07:27.892-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Sentence Structure Is So Important</title><content type='html'>The boss had to fire somebody, and he narrowed it down to one of two people, Kelly or Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an impossible decision because they were both super workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than flip a coin, he decided he would fire the first one who used the water cooler the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly came in the next morning with a horrible hangover after partying all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went to the cooler to take an aspirin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss approached her and said: "Kelly, I've never done this before but I have to lay you or Jack off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Could you jack off?" she says. "I feel like shit."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5429702496557453832?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5429702496557453832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5429702496557453832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5429702496557453832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5429702496557453832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/10/why-sentence-structure-is-so-important.html' title='Why Sentence Structure Is So Important'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6568965085869108264</id><published>2007-09-25T21:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T21:24:51.378-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Worth Thinking About</title><content type='html'>There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind. &lt;br /&gt;She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. &lt;br /&gt;She told her boyfriend, " I f I could only see the world, I will marry you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her. When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked her,'Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?' &lt;br /&gt;The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind. The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her. She hadn't expected that. The thought of looking at them the rest of her life led her to refuse to marry him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend left her in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying: 'Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how the human brain often works when our status changes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only a very few remember what life was likebefore, and who was always by their side in the most painful situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life Is a Gift&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6568965085869108264?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6568965085869108264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6568965085869108264&amp;isPopup=true' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6568965085869108264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6568965085869108264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/something-worth-thinking-about.html' title='Something Worth Thinking About'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3413857404235248149</id><published>2007-09-25T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T21:20:42.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Priceless!</title><content type='html'>Jack wakes up with a huge hangover after attending his company's Christmas Party. Jack is not normally a drinker, but the drinks didn't taste like alcohol at all. &lt;br /&gt;He didn't even remember how he got home from the party.&lt;br /&gt;As bad as he was feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table.&lt;br /&gt;And, next to them, a single red rose!! Jack sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house.&lt;br /&gt;He takes the aspirins, cringes when he sees a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Then he notices a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick:&lt;br /&gt;"Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to get groceries to make&lt;br /&gt;you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling! Love, Jillian"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stumbles to the kitchen and sure enough, there is hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the morning newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;His 16 year old son is also at the table, eating. Jack asks, "Son... what happened last night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused, he asked his son, "So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean? I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His son replies, "Oh THAT... Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed, "Leave me alone, I'm married!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broken Coffee Table $239.99&lt;br /&gt;Hot Breakfast $4.20&lt;br /&gt;Two Aspirins $.38&lt;br /&gt;Saying the right thing, at the right time.... PRICELESS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3413857404235248149?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3413857404235248149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3413857404235248149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3413857404235248149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3413857404235248149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/jack-wakes-up-with-huge-hangover-after.html' title='Priceless!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1488290504999339651</id><published>2007-09-24T22:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T22:08:22.959-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Wrote Your Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/image002.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident I threw it away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote your name on my hand, but it washed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves whispered it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in angels,&lt;br /&gt;The kind that heaven sends.&lt;br /&gt;I'm surrounded by angels, &lt;br /&gt;But I call them my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1488290504999339651?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1488290504999339651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1488290504999339651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1488290504999339651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1488290504999339651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-wrote-your-name.html' title='I Wrote Your Name'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_image002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6585486977982442341</id><published>2007-09-24T21:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T22:06:29.381-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sorry Baby!</title><content type='html'>To my darling husband,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you return from your trip I just want to let you know about the small accident I had with the &lt;br /&gt;pick- up truck when I turned into the driveway. Fortunately, it was not too bad and I really didn't get hurt, so please don't worry too much about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was coming home from Wal-Mart and when I turned into the driveway I accidentally pushed down on the accelerator instead of the brake. The garage door is slightly bent but the pick-up, fortunately, came to a halt when it bumped into your car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really sorry, but I know with your kind-hearted personality you will forgive me. You know how much I love you and care for you my sweetheart. I am enclosing a picture for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your loving wife.&lt;br /&gt;XXX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/ATT21.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Your girlfriend called.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6585486977982442341?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6585486977982442341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6585486977982442341&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6585486977982442341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6585486977982442341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/im-sorry-baby.html' title='I&apos;m Sorry Baby!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_ATT21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7522620040237415699</id><published>2007-09-24T21:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T22:16:53.571-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why We Love Kids</title><content type='html'>NUDITY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving with my three young children one warm&lt;br /&gt;summer evening when a woman in the convertible&lt;br /&gt;ahead of us stood up and waved. She was stark&lt;br /&gt;naked! As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my&lt;br /&gt;5-year-old shout from the back seat, "Mom! That lady&lt;br /&gt;isn't wearing a seat belt!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OPINIONS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first day of school, a first-grader handed his&lt;br /&gt;teacher a note from his mother. The note read, "The&lt;br /&gt;opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily&lt;br /&gt;those of his parents."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KETCHUP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was trying hard to get the ketchup out of&lt;br /&gt;the jar. During her struggle the phone rang so she&lt;br /&gt;asked her 4-year-old daughter to answer the phone.&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right&lt;br /&gt;now. She's hitting the bottle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORE NUDITY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself&lt;br /&gt;in the women's locker room. When he was spotted,&lt;br /&gt;the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing&lt;br /&gt;towels and running for cover. The little boy watched&lt;br /&gt;in amazement and then asked, "What's the matter,&lt;br /&gt;haven't you ever seen a little boy before?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POLICE # 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While taking a routine vandalism report at an&lt;br /&gt;elementary school, I was interrupted by a little&lt;br /&gt;girl about 6 years old. Looking up and down at&lt;br /&gt;my uniform, she asked, "Are you a cop?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," I answered and continued writing the report.&lt;br /&gt;"My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask&lt;br /&gt;the police. Is that right?" "Yes, that's right," I told her.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, then," she said as she extended her foot toward&lt;br /&gt;me, "would you please tie my shoe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POLICE # 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the end of the day when I parked my police van&lt;br /&gt;in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my&lt;br /&gt;K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy&lt;br /&gt;staring in at me "Is that a dog you got back there?" he&lt;br /&gt;asked. "It sure is," I replied. Puzzled, the boy looked&lt;br /&gt;at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he&lt;br /&gt;said, "What'd he do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ELDERLY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While working for an organization that delivers lunches&lt;br /&gt;to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter&lt;br /&gt;on my afternoon rounds. She was unfailingly intrigued by&lt;br /&gt;the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes,&lt;br /&gt;walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a&lt;br /&gt;pair of false teeth soaking in a glass. As I braced myself for&lt;br /&gt;the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and&lt;br /&gt;whispered, "The tooth fairy will never believe this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DRESS-UP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party.&lt;br /&gt;When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned,&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy, you shouldn't wear that suit." "And why not,&lt;br /&gt;darling?"  "You know that it always gives you a headache&lt;br /&gt;the next morning. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEATH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church,&lt;br /&gt;our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly&lt;br /&gt;made his collar wilt. Apparently, his 5-year-old son and&lt;br /&gt;his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper&lt;br /&gt;burial should be performed, they had secured a small box&lt;br /&gt;and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for the&lt;br /&gt;disposal of the deceased. The minister's son was chosen to&lt;br /&gt;say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned&lt;br /&gt;his version of what he thought his father always said:&lt;br /&gt;"Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into&lt;br /&gt;the hole he goooes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCHOOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl had just finished her first week of school.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm just wasting my time," she said to her mother.&lt;br /&gt;"I can't read, I can't write and they won't let me talk!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BIBLE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little boy opened the big family bible. He was&lt;br /&gt;fascinated as he fingered through the old pages.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked&lt;br /&gt;up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an&lt;br /&gt;old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages.&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, look what I found," the boy called out.&lt;br /&gt;"What have you got there, dear?" With astonishment in&lt;br /&gt;the young boy's voice, he answered, "I think it's Adam's&lt;br /&gt;underwear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/etter12.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7522620040237415699?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7522620040237415699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7522620040237415699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7522620040237415699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7522620040237415699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/why-we-love-kids.html' title='Why We Love Kids'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_etter12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4866003128323441995</id><published>2007-09-22T21:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T21:56:21.839-05:00</updated><title type='text'>$50 is $50</title><content type='html'>Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, and every year Morris would say, "Esther, I'd like to ride in that helicopter". Esther always replied, "I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is 50 dollars and 50 dollars is 50 dollars". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said, "Esther, I'm 85 years old. If I don't ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance." Esther replied, "Morris that helicopter is 50 dollars and 50 dollars is 50 dollars".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot overheard the couple and said, "Folks I'll make you a deal. I'll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say a word I won't charge you! But if you say one word, it's 50 dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard. He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word. When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, "By golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn't. I'm impressed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris replied, "Well, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Esther fell out, but you know -- 50 dollars is 50 dollars."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4866003128323441995?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4866003128323441995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4866003128323441995&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4866003128323441995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4866003128323441995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/50-is-50.html' title='$50 is $50'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-915883515486106038</id><published>2007-09-22T21:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T21:47:42.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Women's English</title><content type='html'>Yes = No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No = Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe = No &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry = You'll be sorry &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need = I want &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's your decision = The correct decision should be obvious by now &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do what you want = You'll pay for this later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to talk = I need to complain &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure...go ahead = I don't want you to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not upset = Of course I'm upset, you moron!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're ... So manly = You need a shave and you sweat a lot &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're certainly attentive tonight = Is sex all you ever think about??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be romantic, turn out the lights = I have flabby thighs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you love me? = I'm going to ask for something expensive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much do you love me? = I did something today that you're really not going to like &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be ready in a minute = Kick off your shoes and find a good game on TV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is my butt fat? = Tell me I'm beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to learn to communicate = Just agree with me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you listening to me?? = Too late, you're dead &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON92.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-915883515486106038?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/915883515486106038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=915883515486106038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/915883515486106038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/915883515486106038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/womens-english.html' title='Women&apos;s English'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON92.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5888155142177412831</id><published>2007-09-22T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T21:22:59.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Even God Has Trouble!</title><content type='html'>To those of us who have children in our lives, &lt;br /&gt;whether they are our own, &lt;br /&gt;grandchildren, &lt;br /&gt;nieces, &lt;br /&gt;nephews, &lt;br /&gt;or students... &lt;br /&gt;here is something to make you chuckle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever your children are out of control, &lt;br /&gt;you can take comfort from the thought that &lt;br /&gt;even God's omnipotence did not extend &lt;br /&gt;to His own children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After creating heaven and earth, &lt;br /&gt;God created Adam and Eve &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the first thing he said was &lt;br /&gt;"DON'T! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't what? " &lt;br /&gt;Adam replied &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't eat the forbidden fruit." &lt;br /&gt;God said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forbidden fruit? &lt;br /&gt;We have forbidden fruit? &lt;br /&gt;Hey Eve..we have forbidden fruit ! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No Way ! " &lt;br /&gt;"Yes way ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do NOT eat th e fruit! " &lt;br /&gt;said God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why ?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I am your Father and I said so ! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God replied, &lt;br /&gt;wondering why He hadn't stopped &lt;br /&gt;creation after making the elephants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, &lt;br /&gt;God saw His children having an apple break &lt;br /&gt;and He was ticked ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Didn't I tell you not to eat the fruit ? " &lt;br /&gt;God asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh huh," &lt;br /&gt;Adam replied &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then why did you? " &lt;br /&gt;said the Father. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know," &lt;br /&gt;said Eve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She started it!" &lt;br /&gt;Adam said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did not! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did too! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DID NOT! " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having had it with the two of them, &lt;br /&gt;God's punishment was that Adam and Eve &lt;br /&gt;had children of their own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus the pattern was set and it has never changed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT THERE IS REASSURANCE IN THE STORY! &lt;br /&gt;If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give &lt;br /&gt;children wisdom &lt;br /&gt;and they haven't taken it, don't be hard on yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If God had trouble raising children, &lt;br /&gt;what makes you think it would be &lt;br /&gt;a piece of cake for you ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THINGS TO THINK ABOUT ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You spend the first two years of their life &lt;br /&gt;teaching them to walk and talk. Then you spend &lt;br /&gt;the next sixteen telling them to sit down and shut up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Grandchildren are God's reward &lt;br /&gt;for not killing your own children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Mothers of teens now know why &lt;br /&gt;some animals eat their young. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Children seldom misquote you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, they usually repeat word for word &lt;br /&gt;what you shouldn't have said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 The main purpose of holding children's parties &lt;br /&gt;is to remind yourself that there are children &lt;br /&gt;more awful than your own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. We childproofed our homes, &lt;br /&gt;but they are still getting in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADVICE FOR THE DAY: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be nice to your kids &lt;br /&gt;They will choose your &lt;br /&gt;nursing home one day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND FINALLY: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU ! HAVE A LOT OF TENSION &lt;br /&gt;AND YOU GET A HEADACHE, &lt;br /&gt;DO WHAT IT SAYS &lt;br /&gt;ON THE ASPIRIN BOTTLE: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"TAKE TWO ASPIRIN" &lt;br /&gt;AND "KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN"!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/ShowLetter21.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5888155142177412831?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5888155142177412831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5888155142177412831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5888155142177412831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5888155142177412831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/even-god-has-trouble.html' title='Even God Has Trouble!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_ShowLetter21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6315179260667119268</id><published>2007-09-22T01:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T01:48:59.923-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jim And Edna</title><content type='html'>Jim and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital.  One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Jim suddenly jumped into the deep end.  He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.  Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled Jim out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act, she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her mentally stable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she went to tell Edna the news she said, "Edna, I have good news and bad news. The good news is you are being discharged.  Since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of another, means that you have a sound mind. The bad news is, Jim, the patient you saved, hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him. I am so sorry, but he's dead." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna replied, "He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry. How soon can I go home?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6315179260667119268?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6315179260667119268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6315179260667119268&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6315179260667119268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6315179260667119268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/jim-and-edna-were-both-patients-in.html' title='Jim And Edna'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-461570021692153700</id><published>2007-09-22T01:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T01:45:38.721-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself!</title><content type='html'>This English teacher has phrased it the best I've seen yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHEAP TOMATOES? This should make everyone think, be you Democrat, Republican or Independent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a California school teacher - - -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you listen to the news about the student protests over illegal immigration, there are some things that you should be aware of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in charge of the English-as-a-second-language department at a large southern California high school which is designated a Title 1 school, meaning that its students average lower socioeconomic and income levels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the schools you are hearing about, South Gate High, Bell Gardens, Huntington Park, etc., where these students are protesting, are also Title 1 schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Title 1 schools are on the free breakfast and free lunch program. When I say free breakfast, I'm not talking a glass of milk and roll -- but a full breakfast and cereal bar with fruits and juices that would make a Marriott proud. The waste of this food is monumental, with trays and trays of it being dumped in the trash uneaten. (OUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I estimate, that well over 50% of these student's are obese or at least moderately overweight. About 75% or more DO have cell phones. The school also provides day care centers for the unwed teenage pregnant girls (some as young as 13) so they can attend class without the inconvenience of having to arrange for babysitters or having family watch their kids. (OUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was ordered to spend $700,000 on my department or risk losing funding for the upcoming year even though there was little need for anything; my budget was already substantial.. I ended up buying new computers for the computer learning center, half of which, one month later, have been carved with graffiti by the appreciative students who obviously feel humbled and grateful to have a free education in America.(OUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had to intervene several times for young and substitute teachers whose classes consist of many illegal immigrant students here in the country less then 3 months who raised so much hell with the female teachers, calling them "Putas" whores and throwing things that the teachers were in tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free medical, free education, free food, day care etc., etc, etc. Is it any wonder they feel entitled to not only be in this country but to demand rights, privileges and entitlements?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those who want to point out how much these illegal immigrants contribute to our society because they LIKE their gardener and housekeeper and they like to pay less for tomatoes: spend some time in the real world of illegal immigration and see the&lt;br /&gt;TRUE costs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Higher insurance, medical facilities closing, higher medical costs, more crime, lower standards of education in our schools, overcrowding, new diseases etc., etc, etc. For me, I'll pay more for tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to wake up. The guest worker program will be a disaster because we won't have the guts to enforce it. Does anyone in their right mind really think they will voluntarily leave and return?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many hardworking Hispanic/American citizens that contribute to our country and many that I consider my true friends. We should encourage and accept those Hispanics who have done it the right and legal way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does, however, have everything to do with culture: A third-world culture that does not value education, that accepts children getting pregnant and dropping out of school by 15 and that refuses to assimilate, and an American culture that has become&lt;br /&gt;so weak and worried about "politically correctness" that we don't have the will to do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHEAP LABOR? Isn't that what the whole immigration issue is about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Business doesn't want to pay a decent wage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consumers don't want expensive produce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Government will tell you Americans don't want the jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the bottom line is cheap labor. The phrase "cheap labor" is a myth, a farce, and a lie. There is no such thing as "cheap labor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take, for example, an illegal alien with a wife and five children. He takes a job for $5.00 or $6.00/hour. At that wage, with six dependents, he pays no income tax, yet at the end of the year, if he files an Income Tax Return, he gets an "earned income credit" of up to $3,200 free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He qualifies for Section 8 housing and subsidized rent.&lt;br /&gt;He qualifies for food stamps.&lt;br /&gt;He qualifies for free (no deductible, no co-pay) health care.&lt;br /&gt;His children get free breakfasts and lunches at school.&lt;br /&gt;He requires bilingual teachers and books.&lt;br /&gt;He qualifies for relief from high energy bills.&lt;br /&gt;If they are or become, aged, blind or disabled, they qualify for SSI. Once qualified for SSI they can qualify for Medicare. All of this is at (our) taxpayer's expense&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't worry about car insurance, life insurance, or homeowners insurance.&lt;br /&gt;Taxpayers provide Spanish language signs, bulletins and printed material.&lt;br /&gt;He and his family receive the equivalent of $20.00 to $30.00/hour in benefits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working Americans are lucky to have $5.00 or $6.00/hour left after paying their bills and his.&lt;br /&gt;The American taxpayers also pay for increased crime, graffiti and trash clean-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheap labor? YEAH RIGHT! Wake up people. THESE ARE THE QUESTIONS WE SHOULD BE ADDRESSING TO THE PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES FOR EITHER PARTY. 'AND WHEN THEY LIE TO US AND DON'T DO AS THEY SAY, WE SHOULD REPLACE THEM AT ONCE!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-461570021692153700?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/461570021692153700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=461570021692153700&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/461570021692153700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/461570021692153700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-couldnt-have-said-it-better-myself.html' title='I Couldn&apos;t Have Said It Better Myself!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5370855923916435550</id><published>2007-09-22T01:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T01:19:54.607-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Men Are Like.....</title><content type='html'>1. Men are like ..Laxatives ..... They irritate the crap out of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Men are like. Bananas . The older they get, the less firm they are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Men are like Weather . Nothing can be done to change them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Men are like ... Blenders You need One, but you're not quite sure why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Men are like ... Chocolate Bars ... Sweet, smooth, &amp; they usually head right for your hips. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Men are like .... Commercials   ....... You can't believe a word they say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Men are like Department Stores .... Their clothes are always 1/2 off! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Men are like .... . Government Bonds   .... They take soooooooo long to mature. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Men are like .... . Mascara . They usually run at the first sign of emotion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Men are like Popcorn . They satisfy you, but only for a little while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Men are like Snowstorms ... You never know when they're coming, how many inches you'll get or how long it will last. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Men are like ........ Lava Lamps .. Fun to look at, but not very bright. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Men are like Parking Spots All the good ones are taken, the rest are handicapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all those men who say, Why buy a cow when you can get milk for free. Here's an update for you: Now days, 80% of women are against marriage, WHY? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/246.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5370855923916435550?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5370855923916435550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5370855923916435550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5370855923916435550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5370855923916435550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/men-are-like.html' title='Men Are Like.....'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_246.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6778989704638649660</id><published>2007-09-22T01:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T01:13:54.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Preschool Test For You</title><content type='html'>Which way is the bus below traveling?&lt;br /&gt;To the left or to the right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/ATT4551114.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't make up your mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look carefully at the picture again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still don't know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pre-schoolers all over the United States were shown this picture asked the same question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90% of the pre-schooler's gave this answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The bus is traveling to the left."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asked, "Why do you think the bus is traveling to the left?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They answered:&lt;br /&gt;"Because you can't see the door to get on the bus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How  do  you  feel now  ???&lt;br /&gt;I know, me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/ATT4551225.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6778989704638649660?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6778989704638649660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6778989704638649660&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6778989704638649660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6778989704638649660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/preschool-test-for-you.html' title='A Preschool Test For You'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_ATT4551114.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1152702777326843378</id><published>2007-09-22T00:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T01:08:37.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gambling Blonde</title><content type='html'>Two bored casino dealers were waiting at the crap table. A very attractive blonde woman from South Carolina arrived and bet $20,000 on a single roll of the dice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said "I hope you don't mind, but I feel much luckier when I play topless."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said, she stripped to the waist...rolled the dice..and yelled "Come on baby, Southern Girl needs new clothes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dice came to a stop she jumped up and down and squealed "YES! YES! I WON! I WON!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hugged each of the dealers, picked up her winnings and her clothes, and quickly departed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded. Finally one of them asked, "What did she roll?"&lt;br /&gt;The other answered, "I don't know..I thought you were watching."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral: Not all southerners are stupid. Not all blondes are dumb. But, all men....are men!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON42.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1152702777326843378?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1152702777326843378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1152702777326843378&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1152702777326843378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1152702777326843378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/gambling-blonde.html' title='Gambling Blonde'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON42.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7935301560682707444</id><published>2007-09-22T00:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T00:55:49.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>710</title><content type='html'>A few days ago I was having some work done at my local garage. A blonde came in and asked for a seven-hundred-ten. We all looked at each other and another customer asked, "What is a seven-hundred-ten?" She replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine, I have lost it and need a new one.." She replied that she did not know exactly what it was, but this piece had always been there. The mechanic gave her a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to draw what the piece looked like. She drew a circle and in the middle of it wrote 710. He then took her over to another car which had its hood up and asked "is there a 710 on this car?" She pointed and said, "Of course, its right there." If your not sure what a 710 is &lt;a href="http://www.hotautoweb.com/cogifs/710.jpg"&gt;CLICK HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON112.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7935301560682707444?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7935301560682707444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7935301560682707444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7935301560682707444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7935301560682707444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/710.html' title='710'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON112.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7842213927267886952</id><published>2007-09-22T00:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T00:48:22.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Worlds Worst First Date!</title><content type='html'>If you didn't see this on the Tonight show, I hope you're sitting down when &lt;br /&gt;you read it. This is probably the funniest date story ever, first date or &lt;br /&gt;not!!! We have all had bad dates but this takes the cake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Leno went into the audience to find the most embarrassing first date &lt;br /&gt;that a woman ever had. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winner described her worst first date experience. There was absolutely &lt;br /&gt;no question as to why her tale took the prize! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said it was midwinter...Snowing and quite cold...and the guy had taken &lt;br /&gt;her skiing in the mountains outside Salt Lake City , Utah .. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a day trip (no overnight). They were strangers, after all, and truly &lt;br /&gt;had never met before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The outing was fun but relatively uneventful until they were headed home &lt;br /&gt;late that afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were driving back down the mountain, when she gradual ly began to &lt;br /&gt;realize th at she should not have had that extra latte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were about an hour away from anywhere with a rest room and in the &lt;br /&gt;middle of nowhere! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her companion suggested she try to hold it, which she did for a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, because of the heavy snow and slow going, there came a point &lt;br /&gt;where she told him that he had better stop and let her go beside the road, &lt;br /&gt;or it would be the front seat of his car. They stopped and she quickly &lt;br /&gt;crawled out beside the car, yanked her pants down and started. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the deep snow she didn't have good footing, so she let her butt rest &lt;br /&gt;against the rear fender to steady herself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her companion stood on the side of the car watching for traffic and indeed &lt;br /&gt;was a real gentleman and refrained from peeking. All she could think about &lt;br /&gt;was the relief she felt despite the rather embarrassing nature of the &lt;br /&gt;situation. Upon finishing however, she soon became aware of another &lt;br /&gt;sensation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she bent to pull up her pants, the young lady discovered her buttocks &lt;br /&gt;were firmly glued against the car's fender. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts of tongues frozen to poles immediately came to mind as she &lt;br /&gt;attempted to disengage her flesh from the icy metal. It was quickly apparent &lt;br /&gt;that she had a brand new problem due to the extreme cold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horrified by her plight and yet aware of the humor of the moment, she &lt;br /&gt;answered her date's concerns about "what is taking so long" with a reply &lt;br /&gt;that indeed, she was "freezing her butt off" and in need of some assistance! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came around the car as she tried to cover herself with her sweater and &lt;br /&gt;then, as she looked imploringly into his eyes, he burst out laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She too, got the giggles and when they finally managed to compose &lt;br /&gt;themselves, they assessed her dilemma &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, as hysterical as the situation was, they also were faced with a &lt;br /&gt;real problem. Both agreed it would take something hot to free her chilly &lt;br /&gt;cheeks from the grip of the icy metal! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about what had gotten her into the predicament in the first place, &lt;br /&gt;both quickly realized that there was only one way to get her free. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as she looked the other way, her first-time date proceeded to unzip his &lt;br /&gt;pants and pee her butt off the fender. As the audience screamed in laughter, &lt;br /&gt;she took the Tonight Show prize hands down. Or perhaps that should be "pants &lt;br /&gt;down." And you thought your first date was embarrassing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Leno's comment.."This gives a whole new meaning to being pissed off." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and how did the first date turn out? He became her husband and was &lt;br /&gt;sitting next to her on the Leno show&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7842213927267886952?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7842213927267886952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7842213927267886952&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7842213927267886952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7842213927267886952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/worlds-worst-first-date.html' title='Worlds Worst First Date!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4152570910286124712</id><published>2007-09-20T21:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T21:39:42.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Psychiatrist And The Proctologist</title><content type='html'>Two doctors opened and office in a small town and put up a sign reading: "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, "Hysterias and Posteriors."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The town council was not happy with the sign, so the doctors changed it to read: "Schizoids and Hemorrhoids."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was not acceptable either, so in an effort to satisfy the council, they changed the sign to "Catatonics and High Colonics."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, they tried "Manic Depressives and Anal Retentive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thumbs down again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came "Minds and Behinds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another attempt resulted in "Lost Souls and Butt Holes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unacceptable again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they tried "Analysis and Anal Cysts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nuts and Butts?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Freaks and Cheeks?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Loons and Moons?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost at their wit's end, the doctors finally came&lt;br /&gt;up with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, Odds and Ends."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone loved it!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4152570910286124712?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4152570910286124712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4152570910286124712&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4152570910286124712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4152570910286124712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/psychiatrist-and-proctologist.html' title='The Psychiatrist And The Proctologist'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1943188458128606595</id><published>2007-09-20T21:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T21:21:34.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Age Is Creeping</title><content type='html'>I just have this sneaking suspicion that old age is creeping up on me. I hear footsteps but when I turn around, no one is there. I feel breath on the back of my neck, but again, no one. It is really starting to freak me out to be honest with y'all. I am too young for that sort of thing. I am only 30 but I have managed to screw up my back this week to the point where I have been in bed for 2 days. I am not handling this well. I know that back problems run in my family but I was hoping I was immune to that sort of thing. Sounds like a pipe dream I know but still, if there is one thing I was hoping to avoid that is genetic, it would be the back pains. When my husband has to take care of everything after working all day, I find that to be repugnant. There is no reason he should have to cook dinner and tend to the kids while I lay in bed with my back makes me into a big cry baby. Of all the things that are genetic in my family; from diabetes to arthritis, cancer to depression; I loathe this one the most. The others can either be treated or managed in some way while this just leaves me feeling helpless and worthless all at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1943188458128606595?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1943188458128606595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1943188458128606595&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1943188458128606595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1943188458128606595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/old-age-is-creeping.html' title='Old Age Is Creeping'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8760179707526574202</id><published>2007-09-20T21:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T21:06:45.579-05:00</updated><title type='text'>True Friendship</title><content type='html'>Are you tired of those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good,&lt;br /&gt;But never actually come close to reality?&lt;br /&gt;Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.&lt;br /&gt;You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card&lt;br /&gt;Just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against&lt;br /&gt;The sorry bastard who made you sad.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much Worse it could be until you quit whining.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well&lt;br /&gt;Again. I don't want whatever you have.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9. This is my oath.... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask;&lt;br /&gt;"because you are my friend".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Friendship is like peeing your pants,&lt;br /&gt;everyone can see it,&lt;br /&gt;But only you can feel the true warmth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/image0044.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8760179707526574202?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8760179707526574202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8760179707526574202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8760179707526574202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8760179707526574202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/true-friendship.html' title='True Friendship'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_image0044.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-260924007673482249</id><published>2007-09-19T18:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:52:26.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Cowboy Boots</title><content type='html'>An elderly couple, Ray and Bessie, are "snowbirds"&lt;br /&gt;in Arizona. Ray had  always wanted a pair of&lt;br /&gt;authentic cowboy boots.  Seeing some on sale one&lt;br /&gt;day, he bought them and wore them home, walking&lt;br /&gt;proudly. He walked into the house and said to his&lt;br /&gt;wife, "Notice anything different about me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bessie looked him over, "Nope."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated, Ray stormed off into the bathroom,&lt;br /&gt;undressed, and walked back into the room completely&lt;br /&gt;naked except for the cowboy boots.  He asked a&lt;br /&gt;little louder this time, "Notice anything DIFFERENT&lt;br /&gt;NOW?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bessie looked up and said, "Ray, what's so&lt;br /&gt;different?  It's hanging down today; it was hanging&lt;br /&gt;down yesterday; and it'll be hanging down again&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furious, Ray yelled, "AND DO YOU KNOW WHY IT IS&lt;br /&gt;HANGING DOWN, BESSIE?  IT'S HANGING DOWN BECAUSE&lt;br /&gt;IT'S LOOKING AT MY NEW BOOTS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which Bessie replied, "Shoulda bought a hat,&lt;br /&gt;Ray. Shoulda bought a hat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb64/crookedsteer/rodeo-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-260924007673482249?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/260924007673482249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=260924007673482249&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/260924007673482249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/260924007673482249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/new-cowboy-boots.html' title='New Cowboy Boots'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1866742006420435594</id><published>2007-09-19T18:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:26:28.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawn Mower Sale</title><content type='html'>A preacher was making his rounds to his&lt;br /&gt;parishioners on a bicycle, when he came upon a&lt;br /&gt;little boy trying to sell a lawn mower. "How much do&lt;br /&gt;you want for the mower?" asked the preacher.&lt;br /&gt;  "I just want enough money to go out and&lt;br /&gt;buy me a bicycle", said the little boy. After a&lt;br /&gt;moment of consideration, the preacher asked, "Will&lt;br /&gt;you take my bike in trade for it?"&lt;br /&gt;  The little boy asked if he could try it&lt;br /&gt;out first, and after riding the bike around a little&lt;br /&gt;while said, "Mister, you've got yourself a deal."&lt;br /&gt;  The preacher took the mower and began to&lt;br /&gt;try to crank it. He pulled on the string a few times&lt;br /&gt;with no response from the mower. The preacher called&lt;br /&gt;the little boy over and said, "I can't get this&lt;br /&gt;mower to start."&lt;br /&gt;  The little boy said, "That's because&lt;br /&gt;you have to cuss at it to get it started.&lt;br /&gt;  The preacher said, "I am a minister,&lt;br /&gt;and I cannot cuss. It has been so long since I have&lt;br /&gt;been saved that I do not even remember how to cuss."&lt;br /&gt;  The little boy looked at him happily and&lt;br /&gt;said, "Just keep pulling on that string. It'll come&lt;br /&gt;back to ya!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1866742006420435594?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1866742006420435594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1866742006420435594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1866742006420435594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1866742006420435594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/lawn-mower-sale.html' title='Lawn Mower Sale'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7737994267678228942</id><published>2007-09-19T18:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:12:41.511-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day Of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/flag.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in September of 2005, on the first day of school, Martha Cothren, a&lt;br /&gt;social studies school teacher at Robinson High School in Little Rock , &lt;br /&gt;did something not to be forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;On the first day of school, with the permission of the school&lt;br /&gt;superintendent, the principal and the building supervisor, she removed &lt;br /&gt;all of the desks out of her classroom.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;When the first period kids entered the room they discovered that there &lt;br /&gt;were no desks. Looking around, confused, they asked, "Ms. Cothren, where're &lt;br /&gt;our desks?"&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;She replied, "You can't have a desk until you tell me what you have done &lt;br /&gt;to earn the right to sit at a desk."&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;They thought, "Well, maybe it's our grades."&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;"No," she said.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;"Maybe it's our behavior?&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;She told them, "No, it's not even your behavior".&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;And so, they came and went, the first period, second period, third &lt;br /&gt;period. Still no desks in the classroom.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;By early afternoon television news crews had started gathering in Ms.&lt;br /&gt;Cothren's classroom to report about this crazy teacher who had taken all &lt;br /&gt;the desks out of her room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle_flag_anim.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;The final period of the day came and as the puzzled students found seats &lt;br /&gt;on the floor of the deskless classroom, Martha Cothren said, "Throughout the&lt;br /&gt;day no one has been able to tell me just what he/she has done to earn the&lt;br /&gt;right to sit at the desks that are ordinarily found in this classroom. &lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to tell you."&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;At this point, Martha Cothren went over to the door of her classroom and&lt;br /&gt;opened it.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Twenty-seven (27) U.S.Veterans, all in uniforms, walked into that&lt;br /&gt;classroom, each one carrying a school desk. The Vets began placing the&lt;br /&gt;school desks in rows, and then they would walk over and stand alongside &lt;br /&gt;the  wall.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;By the time the last soldier had set the final desk in place those kids&lt;br /&gt;started to understand, perhaps for the first time in their lives, just &lt;br /&gt;how the right to sit at those desks had been earned.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Martha said, "You didn't earn the right to sit at these desks. These &lt;br /&gt;heroes did it for you. They placed the desks here for you. Now, it's up to you &lt;br /&gt;to sit in them. It is your responsibility to learn, to be good students, &lt;br /&gt;to be good citizens. They paid the price so that you could have the freedom &lt;br /&gt;to get an education. Don't ever forget it."&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;This is a true story....&lt;br /&gt;If you can read this, Thank a teacher.&lt;br /&gt;If you read it in English. Thank a soldier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7737994267678228942?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7737994267678228942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7737994267678228942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7737994267678228942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7737994267678228942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day Of School'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_flag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7566648653817624855</id><published>2007-09-19T17:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:02:15.045-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Digging</title><content type='html'>An old man and woman were married for many years, even though they&lt;br /&gt;hated each other. When they had a confrontation, screaming and yelling&lt;br /&gt;could be heard deep into the night.The old man would shout,When i die,&lt;br /&gt;I will dig my way up and out of the grave and come back and haunt you&lt;br /&gt;for the rest of your life!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Neighbours feared him. They believed he practiced black magic, because&lt;br /&gt;of the many strange occurrences that took place in their neighbourhood.&lt;br /&gt;The old man liked the fact that he was feared.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;To everyone's relief, he died of a heart attack when he was 68. His&lt;br /&gt;wife had a closed casket at the wake.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After the burial, she went straight to the local bar and began to party&lt;br /&gt;as if there was no tomorrow. Her neighbours, concerned for her safety,&lt;br /&gt;asked, "Aren't you afraid that he may indeed be able to dig his way up&lt;br /&gt;and out of the grave and come back&lt;br /&gt;to haunt you for the rest of your life?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The wife put down her drink and said, "Let him dig. I had him buried&lt;br /&gt;upside down"......&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now that's my kind of woman!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k202/Torr_ox/random/i91538444_4927_4.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7566648653817624855?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7566648653817624855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7566648653817624855&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7566648653817624855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7566648653817624855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/digging.html' title='Digging'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k202/Torr_ox/random/th_i91538444_4927_4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2988809626117959847</id><published>2007-09-18T07:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T08:01:34.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctor! Doctor!</title><content type='html'>1. A man comes into the ER and yells, "My wife's going to have her baby in the cab!" I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady's dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly, I noticed that there were several cabs -- and I was in the wrong one.&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Mark MacDonald, San Antonio , TX .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. At the beginning of my shift, I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient's anterior chest wall. "Big breaths," I instructed. "Yes, they used to be," replied the patient.&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Richard Byrnes, Seattle , WA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a "massive internal fart."&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Susan Steinberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. During a patient's two week follow-up appointment with his cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications. "Which one?" I asked. "The patch, the nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours, and now I'm running out of places to put it!" I had him quickly undress, and discovered what I hoped I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;see. Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now, the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Rebecca St. Clair, Norfolk , VA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, "How long have you been bedridden?" After a look of complete confusion, she answered..."Why, not for about twenty years -- when my husband was alive."&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Steven Swanson, Corvallis , OR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I was caring for a woman and asked, "So, how's your breakfast this morning?" "It's very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can't seem to get used to the taste," the patient replied. I then asked to see the jelly, and the woman produced a foil packet labeled "KY Jelly."&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by Dr. Leonard Kransdorf, Detroit , MI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. A nurse was on duty in the emergency room when a young woman with purple hair styled into a punk rocker mohawk, sporting a variety of tattoos, and wearing strange clothing, entered. It was quickly determined that the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff &lt;br /&gt;noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green, and above it there was a tattoo that read, "Keep off the grass." Once the surgery was completed, the surgeon wrote a short note on the patient's dressing, which said, "Sorry, had to mow the lawn."&lt;br /&gt;         Submitted by RN, no name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND FINALLY!!!............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. As a new, young MD doing his residency in OB, I was quite embarrassed when performing female pelvic exams. To cover my embarrassment, I had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady upon whom I was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing and further embarrassing me. I looked up from my work and sheepishly said, "I'm sorry. &lt;br /&gt;Was I tickling you?" She replied, "No doctor, but the song you were whistling was, "I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener."&lt;br /&gt;         Doctor wouldn't submit his name (Can't blame him!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2988809626117959847?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2988809626117959847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2988809626117959847&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2988809626117959847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2988809626117959847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/doctor-doctor.html' title='Doctor! Doctor!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5094822730005985021</id><published>2007-09-18T07:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T07:55:55.151-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ole and the Hooker</title><content type='html'>Ole was walking home late at night, through the park, and sees a  woman in the shadows. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Twenty dollars" she whispers. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He'd never been with a hooker before, but decides, what the hell,  it's only twenty bucks. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So they hide in the bushes. They're going "at it" for a minute when all of a sudden a light flashes on them -- it's a police officer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "What's going on here, people?" asks the officer. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I'm making luff to my vife ,"  Ole answers indignantly. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm sorry." says the cop. "I didn't know." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Vell," says Ole, "I din't neder, 'til you shine that damn light in her face."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5094822730005985021?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5094822730005985021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5094822730005985021&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5094822730005985021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5094822730005985021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/ole-and-hooker.html' title='Ole and the Hooker'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7809665235337414578</id><published>2007-09-17T08:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:32:34.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>19 Laugh Lines</title><content type='html'>1.. My husband and I divorced over religious differences. &lt;br /&gt;     He thought he was God and I didn't. &lt;br /&gt;2.. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it. &lt;br /&gt;3.. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive. &lt;br /&gt;4.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me . &lt;br /&gt;5.. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder. &lt;br /&gt;6.. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing. &lt;br /&gt;7.. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes. &lt;br /&gt;8.. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine. &lt;br /&gt;9.. God must love stupid people; He made so many. &lt;br /&gt;10.. The gene pool could use a little chlorine. &lt;br /&gt;11.. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps. &lt;br /&gt;12.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again? &lt;br /&gt;13.. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it! &lt;br /&gt;14.. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up. &lt;br /&gt;15.. A hangover is the wrath of grapes. &lt;br /&gt;16.. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance . &lt;br /&gt;17.. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere! &lt;br /&gt;18.. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory. &lt;br /&gt;19.. I smile because I don't know what the heck is going on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON122.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7809665235337414578?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7809665235337414578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7809665235337414578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7809665235337414578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7809665235337414578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/1.html' title='19 Laugh Lines'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON122.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6331366117596549805</id><published>2007-09-17T08:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:23:28.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Things You Would Never Know (But Do Now)</title><content type='html'>A shrimp's heart is in its head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick" is said to be the toughest tongue twister in the English language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rats multiply so quickly that in 18 months, two rats could have over a million descendants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wearing headphones for just an hour will increase the bacteria in your ear by 700 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the government has no knowledge of aliens, then why does Title 14,Section 1211 of the Code of Federal Regulations, implemented on July 16 1969, make it illegal for U.S. citizens to have any contact with extraterrestrials or their vehicles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In every episode of Seinfeld there is a Superman somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23% of all photocopier faults world-wide are caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their butts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most lipstick contains fish scales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like fingerprints, everyone's tongue print is different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you sneeze too hard, you can fracture a rib. If you try to suppress a sneeze, you can rupture a blood vessel in your head or neck and die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you keep your eyes open by force, they can pop out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a study of 200,000 ostriches over a period of 80 years, no one reported a single case where an ostrich buried its head in the sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pregnant goldfish is called a twit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than 50% of the people in the world have never made or received a telephone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horses can't vomit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butterflies taste with their feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 10 minutes, a hurricane releases more energy than all of the world's nuclear weapons combined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On average, 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On average people fear spiders more than they do death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninety percent of New York City cabbies are recently arrived immigrants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are already married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elephants are the only animals that can't jump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's possible to lead a cow upstairs...but not downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women blink nearly twice as much as men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's physically impossible for you to lick your elbow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Main Library at Indiana University sinks over an inch every year because when it was built, engineers failed to take into account the weight of all the books that would occupy the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A snail can sleep for three years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No word in the English language rhymes with "MONTH."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The electric chair was invented by a dentist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All polar bears are left handed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ancient Egypt, priests plucked EVERY hair from their bodies, including their eyebrows and eyelashes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go," is the shortest complete sentence in the English language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Barbie were life-size, her measurements would be 39-23-33. She would stand seven feet, two inches tall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cigarette lighter was invented before the match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans on average eat 18 acres of pizza every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost everyone who reads this email will try to lick their elbow. (Sorry I didn't go there!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/dumbass.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6331366117596549805?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6331366117596549805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6331366117596549805&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6331366117596549805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6331366117596549805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/weird-things-you-would-never-know-but.html' title='Weird Things You Would Never Know (But Do Now)'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_dumbass.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1512410442606586882</id><published>2007-09-17T08:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:31:07.247-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now This Is Drunk!!</title><content type='html'>A man goes to a party and has too much to drink. His friends plead with him &lt;br /&gt;to let them take him home. He says NO -- he only lives a mile away. About &lt;br /&gt;five blocks from the party, the police pull him over. They check his license &lt;br /&gt;and ask him to get out of the car and walk the line. Just as he starts, the &lt;br /&gt;police radio blares out a notice of a robbery taking place in a house around &lt;br /&gt;the block. The police tell the party animal to stay put, they'll be right &lt;br /&gt;back and they run around the corner to the robbery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy waits and waits and finally decides to drive home. When he gets &lt;br /&gt;there, he tells his wife he is going to bed, and to tell anyone who might &lt;br /&gt;come looking for him that he has the flu and has been in bed all day. A few &lt;br /&gt;hours later the police knock on the door. They ask if Mr. Smith is there and &lt;br /&gt;his wife says yes. They ask to see him and she replies that he is in bed &lt;br /&gt;with the flu and has been there all day. The police still have his driver's &lt;br /&gt;license. They ask to see his car and she asks why. They insist on seeing his &lt;br /&gt;car, so she takes them to the garage. She opens the door. There sitting in &lt;br /&gt;the garage is the police car, with all its lights still flashing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True story; told by the driver at his first AA meeting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i177.photobucket.com/albums/w229/the-white-robinho/Budweiser.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1512410442606586882?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1512410442606586882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1512410442606586882&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1512410442606586882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1512410442606586882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/now-this-is-drunk.html' title='Now This Is Drunk!!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4336721661253183130</id><published>2007-09-17T08:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:10:54.119-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cowboy Boots</title><content type='html'>A lady went into a bar in Waco and saw a cowboy with his feet propped up on a table. He had the biggest boots she'd ever seen. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The woman asked the cowboy if it's true what they say about men with big feet are well endowed. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The cowboy grinned and said, "Shore is, little lady. Why don't you come on out to the bunkhouse and let me prove it to you?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The woman wanted to find out for herself, so she spent the night with him. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The next morning she handed him a $100 bill. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Blushing, he said, "Well, thankee, ma'am. Ah'm real flattered. Ain't nobody ever paid me fer mah services before." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "Don't be flattered. Take the money and buy yourself some boots that fit.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q13/farm-n-girl/thboots.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4336721661253183130?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4336721661253183130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4336721661253183130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4336721661253183130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4336721661253183130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/cowboy-boots.html' title='Cowboy Boots'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7962675179990849687</id><published>2007-09-17T08:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:04:25.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ad Campaign</title><content type='html'>The boss of a Madison Avenue advertising agency called a spontaneous&lt;br /&gt;staff meeting in the middle of a particularly stressful week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is one pretty sharp boss!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everyone gathered, the boss, who understood the benefits of having &lt;br /&gt;fun, told the burnt out staff the purpose of the meeting was to have a quick&lt;br /&gt;contest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theme: Viagra advertising slogans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only rule was they had to use past ad slogans, originally written&lt;br /&gt;for other products, that captured the essence of Viagra. Slight variations &lt;br /&gt;were acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 7 minutes later, they turned in their suggestions and created a&lt;br /&gt;Top 10 List.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the laughter and camaraderie, the rest of the week went very&lt;br /&gt;well for everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top 10 were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Viagra, Whaazzzz up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Viagra, The quicker pecker picker upper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Viagra, Like a rock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Viagra, When it absolutely, positively has to be ther e overnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Viagra, Be all that you can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Viagra, Reach out and touch someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Viagra, Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Viagra, Home of the whopper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Viagra, We bring good things to Life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the unanimous number one slogan: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. This is your friend, Dick. This is your friend, Dick on drugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON72.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7962675179990849687?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7962675179990849687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7962675179990849687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7962675179990849687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7962675179990849687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/ad-campaign.html' title='Ad Campaign'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON72.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5315991741846951525</id><published>2007-09-17T07:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:03:07.474-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For The Men</title><content type='html'>A man moves into a nudist colony.He receives a letter from his&lt;br /&gt;grandmother asking him to send her a current photo of himself in his new&lt;br /&gt;location. Too embarrassed to let her know that he lives in a nudist&lt;br /&gt;colony, he cuts a photo in half and mails it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, he discovers that he had accidentally sent the bottom half of&lt;br /&gt;the photo!!  He's really worried but then remembers how bad his&lt;br /&gt;grandmother' s eyesight is and hopes that she won't notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later, he receives a letter from his Grandmother.  It says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you for the picture.  Change your hairstyle... .it makes your nose&lt;br /&gt;look too short!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Grandma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON42.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5315991741846951525?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5315991741846951525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5315991741846951525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5315991741846951525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5315991741846951525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/for-men.html' title='For The Men'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON42.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-134191910037564562</id><published>2007-09-17T07:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T07:55:23.561-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Prepared For Anything!</title><content type='html'>A woman and a man are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday &lt;br /&gt;morning; it's a bad one. Both of their cars are totally demolished but &lt;br /&gt;amazingly neither of them are hurt. God works in Mysterious ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they crawl out of their cars, the woman says, "So.... you're a man. That's &lt;br /&gt;interesting. I'm a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There's nothing left ,&lt;br /&gt; but we're unhurt. This must be a sign from God that we should&lt;br /&gt;meet and be friends and live together in peace for the rest of our&lt;br /&gt;days". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flattered, the man replies, "Oh yes, I agree with you completely, &lt;br /&gt;this must be a sign from God!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman continues, "And look at this, here's another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn't break. Surely &lt;br /&gt;God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it &lt;br /&gt;and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman takes the bottle and immediately puts the cap back on, and hands it back to the man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asks, "Aren't you having any?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replies, "No I think I'll just wait for the police...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORAL OF THE STORY:&lt;br /&gt;   Women are evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/evil.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-134191910037564562?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/134191910037564562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=134191910037564562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/134191910037564562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/134191910037564562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/woman-and-man-are-involved-in-car.html' title='Be Prepared For Anything!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_evil.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2875643769243075623</id><published>2007-09-16T14:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T14:54:36.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Weekend</title><content type='html'>I had an interesting weekend to say the least. It was mommy/daddy weekend and my husband and I always look forward to it. We have a whole night without the kids. We always go to dinner and a movie. This weekend we also went shopping, and like every other woman on the planet, I had a great time! Before we even left to take the kids to their grandparents' house my husband found out that Larry the Cable Guy's birthday is February 17th. This is not extraordinary unless you know my husband. He is the worlds biggest Larry the Cable Guy fan. He even looks somewhat like him. Oh, and his birthday, is February 17th too. &lt;br /&gt;After dropping the kids off, we went to our favorite restaurant. After a wonderful and relaxing meal we were off to the movie theatre. Last night we saw the new Halloween movie. Needless to say, it was lousy. Too much blood and not enough suspense ruined the movie. I never enjoy a movie if I know what is coming 10 minutes in advance and that is the way this movie was. It was very predictable.&lt;br /&gt;After the movie we went to Wal-Mart where we blew a bunch of money on stuff that, while needed, was also not exactly neccessary. I have finally managed to lose all my baby weight from the birth of my last child (4 yrs ago) and none of my clothes fit me as well as they should. I bought two new outfits and some new house slippers as well as a new pair of tennis shoes. This was some major spoiling for me. I usually just shop at garage sales because I am too cheap to buy new clothes. We also managed to find my husband a baseball cap that says "Git R Done" which is his motto so he was happy. We got the kids a new PS2 game and a couple new movies as well as getting the new Larry the Cable Guy movie. &lt;br /&gt;I was so tired I just collapsed in bed last night when I got home but it was worth it. We had a lot of fun and enjoyed the evening thoroughly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u199/AndreaSue18/255181.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2875643769243075623?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2875643769243075623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2875643769243075623&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2875643769243075623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2875643769243075623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-weekend.html' title='My Weekend'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1343726641510825262</id><published>2007-09-16T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T14:36:46.021-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Scotch?</title><content type='html'>On the first day of school, the children brought gifts for their teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The florist's son brought the teacher a bouquet of flowers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The candy-store owner's daughter gave the teacher a pretty box of candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the liquor-store owner's son brought up a big, heavy box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher lifted it up and noticed that it was leaking a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She touched a drop of the liquid with her finger and tasted it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is it wine?" she guessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the boy replied. She tasted another drop and asked, "Champagne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the little boy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a puppy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u255/Cz_star/puppies.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1343726641510825262?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1343726641510825262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1343726641510825262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1343726641510825262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1343726641510825262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/scotch.html' title='Scotch?'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2226809778249612236</id><published>2007-09-16T14:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T14:31:02.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fourth Wedding</title><content type='html'>A woman married three times walked into a bridal shop one day and told the sales&lt;br /&gt;clerk that she was looking for a wedding gown for her fourth wedding. &lt;br /&gt;"Of course, madam," replied the sales clerk, "exactly what type and color dress are you looking for?"&lt;br /&gt;The bride to be said: "A long frilly white dress with a veil."&lt;br /&gt;The sales clerk hesitated a bit, then said, "Please don't take this the wrong&lt;br /&gt;way, but gowns of that nature are considered more appropriate for brides who are being married the first time - for those who are a bit more innocent, if you know what I mean? Perhaps ivory or sky blue would be nice?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well," replied the customer, a little peeved at the clerk's directness, "I can&lt;br /&gt;assure you that a white gown would be quite appropriate. Believe it or not, despite all my marriages, I remain as innocent as a first-time bride. You see, my first husband was so excited about our wedding, he died as we were checking into our hotel. My second husband and I got into such a terrible fight in the limo on our way to our honeymoon that we had that wedding annulled immediately and never spoke to&lt;br /&gt;each other again." &lt;br /&gt;"What about your third husband?" asked the sales clerk. &lt;br /&gt;"That one was a Democrat," said the woman, "and every night for four years, he just sat on the edge of the bed and told me how good it was going to  be, but nothing ever happened."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i106.photobucket.com/albums/m247/blacknblueroses/Dresses/Wedding%20Dresses/Bride%20Dresses/jock.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2226809778249612236?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2226809778249612236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2226809778249612236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2226809778249612236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2226809778249612236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/fourth-wedding.html' title='Fourth Wedding'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4490785580730223485</id><published>2007-09-15T16:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T08:05:53.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Degrees Of Blonde</title><content type='html'>FIRST DEGREE &lt;br /&gt;A married couple was asleep when the phone rang at 2 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;The very blonde wife picked up the phone, listened a moment and said &lt;br /&gt;"How should I know, that's 200 miles from here!" and hung up.&lt;br /&gt;The husband said, "Who was that?" &lt;br /&gt;The wife answered, "I don't know, some woman wanting to know if the coast is clear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECOND DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;Two blondes are walking down the street. One notices a compact on the sidewalk and leans down to pick it up. She opens it, looks in the mirror and says, "Hmm, this person looks familiar." &lt;br /&gt;The second blonde says, "Here, let me see!"&lt;br /&gt;So, the first blonde hands her the compact.&lt;br /&gt;The second blonde looks in the mirror and says, "You dummy, it's me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIRD DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;A blonde suspects her boyfriend of cheating on her, so she goes out and buys a gun. She goes to his apartment unexpectedly and when she opens the door she finds him in the arms of a redhead. Well, the blonde is really angry. She opens her purse to take out the gun, and as she does so, she is overcome with grief. She takes the gun and puts it to her head. &lt;br /&gt;The boyfriend yells, "No, honey, don't do it!!!"&lt;br /&gt;The blonde replies, "Shut up, you're next!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOURTH DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;A blonde was bragging about her knowledge of state capitals. &lt;br /&gt;She proudly says, "Go ahead, ask me; ... I know 'em all."&lt;br /&gt;A friend says, "OK, what's the capital of Wisconsin ?"&lt;br /&gt;The blonde replies, "Oh, that's easy ... it's W."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIFTH DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did the blonde ask her doctor when he told her she was pregnant? &lt;br /&gt;A: "Is it mine?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIXTH DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;Bambi, a blonde in her fourth year as a UCLA Freshman, sat in her US Government class. The professor asked Bambi if she knew what Roe vs. Wade was about.&lt;br /&gt;Bambi pondered the question; then, finally, said, "That was the decision&lt;br /&gt;George Washington had to make before he crossed the Delaware ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEVENTH DEGREE&lt;br /&gt;Returning home from work, a blonde was shocked to find her house &lt;br /&gt;ransacked and burglarized. She telephoned the police at once and &lt;br /&gt;reported the crime. The police dispatcher broadcast the call on the radio, &lt;br /&gt;and a K-9 unit, patrolling nearby, was the first to respond.&lt;br /&gt;As the K-9 officer approached the house with his dog on a leash, the blonde &lt;br /&gt;ran out on the porch, shuddered at the sight of the cop and his dog, then &lt;br /&gt;sat down on the steps. Putting her face in her hands, she moaned, "I come &lt;br /&gt;home to find all my possessions stolen. I call the police for help, &lt;br /&gt;and what do they do? They send me a BLIND policeman!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/BUTTON52.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4490785580730223485?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4490785580730223485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4490785580730223485&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4490785580730223485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4490785580730223485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-degree-married-couple-was-asleep.html' title='7 Degrees Of Blonde'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_BUTTON52.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2575060392776886104</id><published>2007-09-15T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T16:18:18.114-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Think Before You Speak</title><content type='html'>FIRST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into a hair salon with my husband and three kids in tow and asked loudly,&lt;br /&gt;"How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?"&lt;br /&gt;I turned around and walked back out and never went back&lt;br /&gt;My husband didn't say a word...he knew better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECOND TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the golf store comparing different kinds of golf balls.&lt;br /&gt;I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using.&lt;br /&gt;After browsing for several minutes, I was approached by one of the good-looking gentlemen who works at the store.&lt;br /&gt;He asked if he could help me.&lt;br /&gt;Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like playing with mens balls"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIRD TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I were at the mall and passed by a store that sold a variety of candy and nuts.&lt;br /&gt;As we were looking at the display case, the boy behind the counter asked if we needed any help.&lt;br /&gt;I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your nuts."&lt;br /&gt;My sister started to laugh hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;The boy grinned, and I turned beet-red and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;To this day, my sister has never let me forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOURTH TESTIMONY :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in line at the bank one afternoon, my toddler decided to release some pent-up energy and ran amok.&lt;br /&gt;I was finally able to grab hold of her after receiving looks of disgust and annoyance from other patrons.&lt;br /&gt;I told her that if she did not start behaving "right now" she would be punished.&lt;br /&gt;To my horror, she looked me in the eye and said in a voice just as threatening,&lt;br /&gt;"If you don't let me go right now, I will tell Grandma that I saw you kissing Daddy's pee-pee last night!"&lt;br /&gt;The silence was deafening after this enlightening exchange.&lt;br /&gt;Even the tellers stopped what they were doing.&lt;br /&gt;I mustered up the last of my dignity and walked out of the bank with my daughter in tow.&lt;br /&gt;The last thing I heard when the door closed behind me, were screams of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIFTH TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever asked your child a question too many times?&lt;br /&gt;My three-year-old son had a lot of problems with potty training and I was on him constantly.&lt;br /&gt;One day we stopped at Taco Bell for a quick lunch, in between&lt;br /&gt;errands&lt;br /&gt;It was very busy, with a full dining room.&lt;br /&gt;While enjoying my taco, I smelled something funny, so of course I checked my seven-month-old daughter, she was clean.&lt;br /&gt;Then realized that Danny had not asked to go potty in a while.&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he needed to go,&lt;br /&gt;and he said "No" .&lt;br /&gt;I kept thinking&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Lord, that child has had an accident, and I don't have any&lt;br /&gt;clothes with me."&lt;br /&gt;Then I said,&lt;br /&gt;"Danny, are you SURE you didn't have an accident?"&lt;br /&gt;"No," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;I just KNEW that he must have had an accident, because the smell was getting worse.&lt;br /&gt;Soooooo, I asked one more time, "Danny did you have an accident ? This time he jumped up, yanked down his pants, bent over, spread his cheeks and yelled&lt;br /&gt;"SEE MOM, IT'S JUST FARTS!!"&lt;br /&gt;While 30 people nearly choked to death on their tacos laughing, he calmly pulled up his pants and sat down.&lt;br /&gt;An old couple made me feel better, thanking me for the best laugh they'd ever had!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST BUT NOT LEAST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This had most of the state of Michigan laughing for 2 days and a very embarrassed female news anchor who will, in the future, likely think be fore she speaks.&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you predict snow but don't get any!&lt;br /&gt;We had a female news anchor that, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman and asked:&lt;br /&gt;"So Bob, where's that 8 inches you promised me last night?"&lt;br /&gt;Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too they were laughing so hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/quote4.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2575060392776886104?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2575060392776886104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2575060392776886104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2575060392776886104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2575060392776886104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-testimony-i-walked-into-hair.html' title='Think Before You Speak'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_quote4.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5414995235215938262</id><published>2007-09-15T15:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T15:49:32.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smile~It Could Be Worse!</title><content type='html'>Now that food has replaced sex in my life, I can't even get into my own pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage changes passion. Suddenly you're in bed with a relative. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a woman wearing a sweat shirt with "Guess" on it. &lt;br /&gt;So I said "Implants?" She hit me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come we choose from just two people to run for president and over fifty for Miss America ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend will come and bail you out of jail...but, a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Wow...that was fun!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I signed up for an exercise class and was told to wear loose-fitting clothing. If I HAD any loose-fitting clothing, I wouldn't have signed up in the first place! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was young we used to go "skinny dipping," now I just "chunky dunk." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever argue with an idiot; people watching may not be able to tell the difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't it be nice if whenever we messed up our life we could simply press 'Ctrl Alt Delete' and start all over? AMEN, AMEN !! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that our children can't read a Bible in school, but they can in prison? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't you know it...&lt;br /&gt;Brain cells come and brain cells go, but FATcells live forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I have to swear on the Bible in court when the Ten Commandments cannot be displayed outside? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bumper sticker of the year: &lt;br /&gt;"If you can read this, thank a teacher -and, since it's in English, thank a soldier" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And remember: life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/Haha.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5414995235215938262?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5414995235215938262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5414995235215938262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5414995235215938262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5414995235215938262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/smileit-could-be-worse.html' title='Smile~It Could Be Worse!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_Haha.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6802526828606778598</id><published>2007-09-15T15:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T15:37:48.198-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Peaches</title><content type='html'>Just  a poor farmer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gentlemanly Illinois farmer was selling his peaches door to door. He knocked on a door and a shapely 40 something lady dressed in a very sheer negligee answered the door. He raised his basket to show her the peaches and asked, "Would you like to buy some peaches?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pulled the top of the negligee to one side and asked, 'Are they as firm as this?" &lt;br /&gt;He nodded his head and said, "Yes ma'am," and a little tear ran from his eye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she pulled the other side of her negligee off asking, "Are they nice and pink like this?" &lt;br /&gt;The farmer said "Yes" and another tear came from the other eye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the lady unbuttoned the bottom of her negligee and asked, "Are they as fuzzy as this?" &lt;br /&gt;He again said, 'Yes," and broke down crying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady asked, "Why on earth are you crying?" &lt;br /&gt;Drying his eyes he replied. "The drought got my corn, the flood got my soy beans, a tornado leveled my barn and now I'm gonna get screwed out of my peaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u301/jupie1000_photo/AOTWURLCAZA14S3CAQG9OH0CAAHQJGMCAK4.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6802526828606778598?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6802526828606778598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6802526828606778598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6802526828606778598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6802526828606778598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/peaches.html' title='Peaches'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4941896237294602854</id><published>2007-09-13T20:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T20:11:08.795-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love A Nurse</title><content type='html'>A cop was rushed to the hospital with an inflamed appendix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors operated and advised him that all was well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the patrolman kept feeling something pulling at the hairs in&lt;br /&gt;his crotch. Worried that it might be a second surgery the doctors hadn't&lt;br /&gt;told him about, he finally got enough energy to pull his hospital gown up&lt;br /&gt;enough so he could look at what was making him so uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taped firmly across his pubic hair was three wide strips of adhesive&lt;br /&gt;tape, the kind that takes everything with it when you pull it off. Written&lt;br /&gt;in large black letters was the sentence.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Get well quick..... from the nurse you gave a ticket to last week."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u289/Risu21/nurse.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4941896237294602854?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4941896237294602854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4941896237294602854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4941896237294602854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4941896237294602854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/love-nurse.html' title='Love A Nurse'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5492358371745174012</id><published>2007-09-13T19:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T20:01:52.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mow Your Yards!</title><content type='html'>This story was sent to my by a friend. It made me laugh so hard because I had just been thinking that something had to be done about my yard before I lost one of my children in all that overgrown mess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/ShowLetter352.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You gotta love this one. Those Norwegians are such good workers.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;One night, a torrential rain soaked northwestern Minnesota The next morning the resulting flood waters came up about 6 feet into most of the homes there. Mrs. Johnson was sitting on her roof with her neighbor, Lena , waiting for help to come.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Johnson noticed a baseball cap, floating near the house. Then she saw it float far out into the front yard, then float back to the house, it kept floating away from the house then back towards the house. Her curiosity got the best of her, so she asked Lena , "Do you see dat der baseball cap a floating away from da house, den back&lt;br /&gt;again?"   Lena said, "oh yeah, dats my husband Ole; I tole dat lazy ass he&lt;br /&gt;gonna cut da grass today, come hell or high water!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5492358371745174012?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5492358371745174012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5492358371745174012&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5492358371745174012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5492358371745174012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/mow-your-yards.html' title='Mow Your Yards!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_ShowLetter352.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5058955557185768164</id><published>2007-09-09T12:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T12:42:15.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wisdom From Larry The Cable Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/stars/larryface12.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. A day without sunshine is like night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. On the other hand, you have different fingers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Remember, half the people you know are below average. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. He who laughs last thinks the slowest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets&lt;br /&gt;the cheese in the trap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. OK, so what's the speed of dark? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong&lt;br /&gt;lane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Hard work pays off in the future.  Laziness pays off now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet&lt;br /&gt;engines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. What happens if you get scared half to death, twice? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Why do psychics have to ask you for your name? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering,&lt;br /&gt;"What the heck happened?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Just remember -- if the world didn't suck, we would all fall&lt;br /&gt;off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people&lt;br /&gt;appear bright until you hear them speak. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Life isn't like a box of chocolates; it's more like a jar of&lt;br /&gt;jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your rear tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/stars/larryface12.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5058955557185768164?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5058955557185768164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5058955557185768164&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5058955557185768164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5058955557185768164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/wisdom-from-larry-cable-guy.html' title='Wisdom From Larry The Cable Guy'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/stars/th_larryface12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4155362360050501208</id><published>2007-09-09T12:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T12:33:59.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Minute Management Course</title><content type='html'>Lesson 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next-door neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before she says a word, Bob says, "I'll give you $800 to drop that towel."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, "Who was that?" "It was Bob the next door neighbor," she replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Great!" the husband says, "did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A priest offered a Nun a lift. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nun said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.&lt;br /&gt;The nun once again said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?"&lt;br /&gt;The priest apologized "Sorry sister but the flesh is weak."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, "Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;If you are not well informed in your job, opportunities for advancement will pass right by you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says, "I'll give each of you just one wish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Me first! Me first!" says the admin clerk. "I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world." Puff! She's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Me next! Me next!" says the sales rep. "I want to be in Hawaii , relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life." Puff! He's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, you're up," the Genie says to the manager.&lt;br /&gt;The manager says, "I want those two back in the office after lunch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;Always let your boss have the first say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 4:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eagle answered: "Sure , why not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 5:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?" replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree. He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;Bull poop might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 6:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little bird was flying south for the Winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and pooped on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morals of the story:&lt;br /&gt;(1) Not everyone who poops on you is your enemy.&lt;br /&gt;(2) Not everyone who gets you out of poop is your friend.&lt;br /&gt;(3) And when you're in deep poop, it's best to keep your mouth shut!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS CONCLUDES THE 5-MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/ShowLetter372.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4155362360050501208?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4155362360050501208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4155362360050501208&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4155362360050501208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4155362360050501208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/5-minute-management-course.html' title='5 Minute Management Course'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/cartoons/th_ShowLetter372.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5577985122507762360</id><published>2007-09-09T12:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T12:26:05.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Have Learned From Living In Missouri</title><content type='html'>Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 5,000 types of snakes on earth and 4,998 live in Missouri. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Missouri  plus a couple no one's seen before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it grows, it sticks; if it crawls, it bites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onced and Twiced are words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Houses have "Winders" and "Windas", never has a window been seen South of I-70&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People actually grow and eat okra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fixinto" is one word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no such thing as "lunch."   There is only dinner and then there is supper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Backards and forwards means "I know everything about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DJeet? is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is.You work until you're done or it's too dark to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the distance between stops on "The Wine Trail".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You measure distance in minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know who/which store has the best deal on cases of Natural Light beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fix" is a verb. Example: "I'm fixing to go to the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect or animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what a "DAWG" is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You carry jumper cables in your car . . . for your OWN car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are only four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local gossip and sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day of deer season is a national holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100 degrees Fahrenheit "a little warm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past time known as "goin' Wal-martin" or off to "Wally World."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cool snap (below 70 degrees) is good pinto-bean weather. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fried catfish is the other white meat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't need no stinking driver's ed . . .. if our mama says we can drive, we can drive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERYONE can't be from Missouri; it takes talent. You might say it's an art form or a gift from God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5577985122507762360?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5577985122507762360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5577985122507762360&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5577985122507762360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5577985122507762360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-have-learned-from-living-in.html' title='Things I Have Learned From Living In Missouri'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6122486425234534616</id><published>2007-08-21T08:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T08:21:42.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Men Do Remember Anniversaries!</title><content type='html'>A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband is not in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of him.  He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She watches as he wiped a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter, dear?" she whispers as she steps into the room, "Why are you down here at this time of night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband looks up from his coffee, "Do you remember 20 years ago when we were dating, and you were only 16?" he asks solemnly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife is touched to tears thinking that her husband is so caring and sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I do" she replies. The husband paused. The words were not coming easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I remember" said the wife, lowering herself into a chair beside him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband continued. "Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my  face and said, "Either you marry my daughter, or I will send you to jail for 20 years?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I remember that too" she replied softly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wiped another tear from his cheek and said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would have gotten out today."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6122486425234534616?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6122486425234534616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6122486425234534616&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6122486425234534616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6122486425234534616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/men-do-remember-anniversaries.html' title='Men Do Remember Anniversaries!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5710308293722692444</id><published>2007-08-21T08:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T08:08:56.859-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Nuns</title><content type='html'>There were two nuns..  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them was known as Sister Mathematical (SM),  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the other one was known as Sister Logical (SL).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is getting dark and they are still far away from the convent.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Have you noticed that a man has been following us for  &lt;br /&gt;The past thirty-eight and a half minutes? I wonder what he wants.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: It's logical. He wants to rape us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Oh, no! At this rate he will reach us in 15 minutes  at the most! What can we do?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing to do of course is to walk faster.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: It's not working.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: Of course it's not working. The man did the only logical thing. He started to walk faster, too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: So, what shall we do? At this rate he will reach us in one minute.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing we can do is split. You go that way and  I'll go this way. He cannot follow us both.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the man decided to follow Sister Logical. &lt;br /&gt;Sister Mathematical arrives at the convent and is  &lt;br /&gt;Worried about what has happened to Sister Logical.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Sister Logical arrives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Sister Logical! Thank God you are here!  &lt;br /&gt;Tell me what happened!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing happened.  The man couldn't follow us both, so he followed me  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Yes, yes! But what happened then?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing happened. I started to run as fast as I could and he started to run as fast as he could.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: And?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing happened. He reached me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Oh, dear! What did you do?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing to do.  I lifted my dress up  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Oh, Sister! What did the man do?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: The only logical thing to do.  He pulled down his pants.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SM: Oh, no! What happened then?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SL: Isn't it logical, Sister?  A nun with her dress up can run faster than a man with his pants down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for those of you who thought it would be dirty,  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say two Hail Marys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5710308293722692444?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5710308293722692444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5710308293722692444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5710308293722692444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5710308293722692444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/two-nuns.html' title='Two Nuns'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-958945965436511871</id><published>2007-08-21T07:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T08:03:38.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Words of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>1) When I die, I want to die like my grandfather--who died peacefully in his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car." &lt;br /&gt;--Author Unknown &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Advice for the day: If you have a lot of tension and you get a headache, do what it says on the aspirin bottle: &lt;br /&gt;"Take two aspirin" and "Keep away from children." &lt;br /&gt;--Author Unknown &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) "Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. &lt;br /&gt;It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar." &lt;br /&gt;--Drew Carey &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) "The problem with the designated driver program, it's not a desirable job, but if you ever get sucked into doing it, have fun with it. At the end of the night, &lt;br /&gt;drop them off at the wrong house." &lt;br /&gt;--Jeff Foxworthy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) "If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base." &lt;br /&gt;--Dave Barry &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) "Relationships are hard. It's like a full time job, and we should treat it like one. If your boyfriend or girlfriend wants to leave you, they should give you two weeks' notice. There should be severance pay, the day before they leave you, they should have to find you a temp." &lt;br /&gt;--Bob Ettinger &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) "My Mom said she learned how to swim when someone took her out in the lake and threw her off the boat. I said, 'Mom, they weren't trying to teach you how to swim.'" &lt;br /&gt;--Paula Poundstone &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) "A study in the Washington Post says that women have better verbal skills than men. I just want to say to the authors of that study: "Duh" &lt;br /&gt;--Conan O'Brien &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) "Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh my God... I could be eating a slow learner." &lt;br /&gt;--Lynda Montgomery &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) "I think that's how Chicago got started. Bunch of people in New York said, 'Gee, I'm enjoying the crime and the poverty, but it just isn't cold enough. Let's go west.'" &lt;br /&gt;--Richard Jeni &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) "If life were fair, Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead." &lt;br /&gt;--Johnny Carson &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) "Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography." &lt;br /&gt;--Paul Rodriguez &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) "My parents didn't want to move to Florida, but they turned sixty and that's the law" &lt;br /&gt;--Jerry Seinfeld &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) "Remember in elementary school, you were told that in case of fire you have to line up quietly in a single file line from smallest to tallest. What is the logic in that? What, do tall people burn slower?" &lt;br /&gt;--Warren Hutcherson &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) "Bigamy is having one wife/husband too many. Monogamy is the same." &lt;br /&gt;--Oscar Wilde &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) "Suppose you were an idiot And suppose you were a member of Congress.. But I repeat myself" &lt;br /&gt;--Mark Twain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) "Our bombs are smarter than the average high school student. At least they can find Afghanistan." &lt;br /&gt;--A. Whitney Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18) "You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, 'My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!'" &lt;br /&gt;--Dave Barry &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19) Do you know why they call it "PMS"? Because "Mad Cow Disease" was taken. &lt;br /&gt;--Unknown, presumed deceased &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20) "Everybody's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer." &lt;br /&gt;- W. C. Fields &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lastly: Why in Hell should I have to Press 1 for English&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-958945965436511871?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/958945965436511871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=958945965436511871&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/958945965436511871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/958945965436511871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/some-words-of-wisdom.html' title='Some Words of Wisdom'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7093328672093562728</id><published>2007-08-08T10:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T10:43:04.977-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Life Update</title><content type='html'>Life has been rather hectic lately with everything. My husband and I will be soon getting a divorce and I am no longer at home. I feel that my world has been turned upside down but I will survive. I am continuing with my studies and seeing my children as often as he will allow. There is nothing much I can say really. I was able to leave the marriage but was not allowed anything out of it except this computer and $10.00. Not a lot for 10 years of devotion but I am just happy at this point to be free. I am staying with a friend for now and I have kids to play with here. They do not fill the hole in my heart, but they are a temporary stopgap to this open wound. He says that we will share custody and neither will have more time with them. He would be wrong on that count. He feels right now that he has to do all in his power to hurt me and I just fear that that will come back and hurt him worse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7093328672093562728?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7093328672093562728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7093328672093562728&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7093328672093562728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7093328672093562728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/life-update.html' title='A Life Update'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6810774584227665759</id><published>2007-08-05T06:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T06:48:34.402-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleaning Chickens</title><content type='html'>"Late again," the third-grade teacher said to little Sammy.&lt;br /&gt; "It ain't my fault," Miss Crabtree. "You can blame&lt;br /&gt; this on my Daddy. The reason I'm three hours late is Daddy sleeps naked!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now Miss Crabtree had taught grammar school for&lt;br /&gt; thirty-some-odd years. So she asked little Sammy what he meant by that, despite her mounting fears. Full of grins and mischief, and in the flower of his youth, little Sammy and trouble were old friends, but he always told the truth.&lt;br /&gt; "You see, Miss Crabtree, at the ranch we got this here lowdown coyote. The last Few nights he done et six hens and killed Ma's best milk goat. And last night, when Daddy heard a noise out in the chicken pen, he grabbed his gun and said to Ma, "That coyote's back again, I'm a gonna git&lt;br /&gt; him!'" 'Stay back, he yelled to all us kids!" He was naked as a jaybird, no boots, no pants, no shirt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; To the hen house he crawled, just like an Injun on&lt;br /&gt; the snoop. Then he stuck that double barrel through the window of the coop. As he stared into the darkness, with coyotes on his mind, our old hound dog Zeke had done woke up and come asneakin' up behind Daddy.&lt;br /&gt; Then we all looked on plumb helpless old Zeke stuck that cold nose in Daddy's crack!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Miss Crabtree, we been cleanin' chickens since three o'clock this mornin'!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6810774584227665759?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6810774584227665759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6810774584227665759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6810774584227665759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6810774584227665759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/cleaning-chickens.html' title='Cleaning Chickens'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5941562685954467613</id><published>2007-08-05T06:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T06:45:32.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>The Finest Statement Printed Today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mother asked President Bush,&lt;br /&gt;"Why did my son have to die in Iraq ?"&lt;br /&gt;Another mother asked President Kennedy,&lt;br /&gt;"Why did my son have to die in Viet Nam ?" &lt;br /&gt;Another mother asked President Truman,&lt;br /&gt; "Why did my son have to die in Korea ?&lt;br /&gt; Another mother asked President F. D. Roosevelt,&lt;br /&gt; "Why did my son have to die at Iwo Jima ?"&lt;br /&gt; Another mother asked President W. Wilson, &lt;br /&gt;"Why did my son have to die on the battlefield of France ?"&lt;br /&gt; Yet another mother asked President Lincoln,&lt;br /&gt; "Why did my son have to die at Gettysburg ?"&lt;br /&gt; And yet another mother asked President G. Washington, &lt;br /&gt;"Why did my son have to die near Valley Forge ?"&lt;br /&gt; Then long, long ago, a mother asked...&lt;br /&gt; "Heavenly Father, why did my Son have to die&lt;br /&gt; on a cross outside of Jerusalem ?"&lt;br /&gt; The answers to all these are similar --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "So that others may have life and dwell in peace,&lt;br /&gt; happiness and freedom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; IF YOU DON'T STAND BEHIND OUR TROOPS,&lt;br /&gt; PLEASE, FEEL FREE..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TO STAND IN FRONT OF THEM !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/ShowLetter3.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5941562685954467613?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5941562685954467613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5941562685954467613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5941562685954467613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5941562685954467613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/08/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_ShowLetter3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3678582431803138793</id><published>2007-07-22T09:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T09:46:35.447-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Redneck Birth Control</title><content type='html'>After their 11th child, an Alabama couple decided that was enough as &lt;br /&gt; they could not afford a larger bed.  So the husband went to his &lt;br /&gt; veterinarian and told him that he and his cousin didn't want to have any &lt;br /&gt; more children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The doctor told him that there was a procedure called a vasectomy that &lt;br /&gt; could fix the problem but that it was expensive.  "A less costly &lt;br /&gt; alternative," said the doctor, "is to go home, get a cherry bomb, &lt;br /&gt; (fireworks are legal in Alabama) light it, put it in a beer can, then hold &lt;br /&gt; the can up to your ear and count to 10."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The Alabamian said to the doctor, "I may not be the smartest tool in the &lt;br /&gt; shed, but I don't see how putting a cherry bomb in a beer can next to my &lt;br /&gt; ear is going to help me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Trust me," said the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So the man went home, lit a cherry bomb and put it in a beer can.  He held &lt;br /&gt; the can up to his ear and began to count. . . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "1"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "2"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "3"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "4"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "5"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At which point he paused, placed the beer can between his legs and resumed &lt;br /&gt; counting on his other hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This procedure also works in Tennessee , Georgia , Kentucky , Arkansas , &lt;br /&gt; Mississippi and West Virginia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3678582431803138793?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3678582431803138793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3678582431803138793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3678582431803138793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3678582431803138793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/redneck-birth-control.html' title='Redneck Birth Control'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-7969533487208540387</id><published>2007-07-22T09:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T09:37:49.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Tonight Honey</title><content type='html'>&gt; I have never understood why the sexual urge of men and women differ so &lt;br /&gt;&gt; much. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; FOR EXAMPLE: One evening last week, my wife and I were getting into bed. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; The passion starts to heat up, when she eventually said "I don't feel &lt;br /&gt;&gt; like it, I just want you to hold me." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I said "WHAT??!! What was that?!" &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; So she says the words that every husband on the planet dreads to &lt;br /&gt;&gt; hear..."You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman &lt;br /&gt;&gt; enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; She then responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; for who I am and not for what I do in the bedroom?" &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to &lt;br /&gt;&gt; sleep... &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; her. We went out to a good lunch and then went shopping at a very big &lt;br /&gt;&gt; department store. I walked around with her wh ile she tried on several &lt;br /&gt;&gt; different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take &lt;br /&gt;&gt; so &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I told her we'd just get them all. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; She wanted new shoes to complement her new clothes, so I said "Let's get &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; a pair for each outfit". &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; We went onto the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of &lt;br /&gt;&gt; diamond earrings. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; Let me tell you...she was so excited. She must have thought I was one &lt;br /&gt;&gt; wave short of a shipwreck. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I started to think she was testing me because she then asked for a &lt;br /&gt;&gt; tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I think I threw her when I said, "That's fine, honey." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; She was a lmost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; Smiling with excited anticipation she finally said, "I think this is all &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; dear, let's go to the cashier." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't &lt;br /&gt;&gt; feel like it." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled &lt;br /&gt;&gt; "WHAT?" &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; I then said "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. &lt;br /&gt;&gt; You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me &lt;br /&gt;&gt; to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, &lt;br /&gt;&gt; "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy &lt;br /&gt;&gt; you?" &lt;br /&gt;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt; Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-7969533487208540387?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/7969533487208540387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=7969533487208540387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7969533487208540387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/7969533487208540387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/not-tonight-honey.html' title='Not Tonight Honey'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1528451986375868322</id><published>2007-07-22T09:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T09:29:48.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Say I Broke Into Your House</title><content type='html'>A lady wrote the best letter in the Editorials &lt;br /&gt;in ages!!!  It explains things better than all &lt;br /&gt;the baloney you hear on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her point:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently large demonstrations have taken place &lt;br /&gt;across the country protesting the fact that Congress &lt;br /&gt;is finally addressing the issue of illegal immigration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certain people are angry that &lt;br /&gt;the US might protect its own &lt;br /&gt;borders, might make it harder &lt;br /&gt;to sneak into this country and, &lt;br /&gt;once here, to stay indefinitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me see if I correctly understand &lt;br /&gt;the thinking behind these protests. &lt;br /&gt; Let's say I break into your house.&lt;br /&gt;Let's say that when you discover &lt;br /&gt;me in your house, you insist that I leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I say, "I've made all &lt;br /&gt;the beds and washed the &lt;br /&gt;dishes and did the laundry &lt;br /&gt;and swept the floors.  I've &lt;br /&gt;done all the things you don't &lt;br /&gt;like to do.  I'm hard-working&lt;br /&gt; and honest &lt;br /&gt;(except for when I broke into your house).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the protesters: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are Required to let me stay in your house&lt;br /&gt;You are Required to add me to your family's insurance plan &lt;br /&gt;You are Required to Educate my kids&lt;br /&gt;You are Required to Provide other benefits to me &amp; to my family &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(my husband will do all of your yard work because&lt;br /&gt;he is also hard-working and honest, except for that &lt;br /&gt;breaking in part).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you try to call the police or force me out, &lt;br /&gt;I will call my friends who will picket your &lt;br /&gt;house carrying signs that proclaim my &lt;br /&gt;RIGHT to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  It's only fair, after all, because you have &lt;br /&gt;a nicer house than I do, and I'm just &lt;br /&gt;trying to better myself.  I'm a hard-working &lt;br /&gt;and honest, person, except for well, &lt;br /&gt;you know, I did break into your house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what a deal it is for me!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live in your house, contributing only a &lt;br /&gt;fraction of the cost of my keep, and &lt;br /&gt;there is nothing you can do about it &lt;br /&gt;without being accused of cold, &lt;br /&gt;uncaring, selfish, prejudiced, and &lt;br /&gt;bigoted behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I DEMAND that you to learn &lt;br /&gt;MY LANGUAGE!!! so you can communicate with me.And don't forget to &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;make sure your forms are in MY language - I need to understand them...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1528451986375868322?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1528451986375868322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1528451986375868322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1528451986375868322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1528451986375868322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/say-i-broke-into-your-house.html' title='Say I Broke Into Your House'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8467698283614848141</id><published>2007-07-15T12:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:31:01.804-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Bit Of BS From Our Government!!</title><content type='html'>WRITE IT ON THE BACK OF YOUR ENVELOPES !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I THINK THIS A GREAT IDEA. I WILL START WRITING THIS ON FRONT OF ALL&lt;br /&gt;MY ENVELOPES, TOO ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may have heard in the news that the Post Office has been&lt;br /&gt;forced to take down small posters that say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" IN GOD WE TRUST "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The law, they say, is being violated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I heard proposed on a radio station show, that we should all&lt;br /&gt;write "IN GOD WE TRUST " on the back of all our mail...after all, that is&lt;br /&gt;our national motto, and it's on all the money we use to buy those stamps.&lt;br /&gt;I think it is a wonderful idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must take back our nation from all the people who think that&lt;br /&gt;anything that offends them should be removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you like this idea, please pass it on. It has been reported that&lt;br /&gt;86% of Americans believe in God. There fore, I have a very hard time&lt;br /&gt;understanding why there is such a mess about having "In God We Trust" on&lt;br /&gt;our money and having God in the pledge of Allegiance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8467698283614848141?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8467698283614848141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8467698283614848141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8467698283614848141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8467698283614848141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/another-bit-of-bs-from-our-government.html' title='Another Bit Of BS From Our Government!!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3331653108964849585</id><published>2007-07-15T12:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:23:40.304-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is Happening To Our Country??</title><content type='html'>I recieved this in my e-mail and knew that I just had to share!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outrageous--------&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I am hoping you have the opportunity to read this e mail&lt;br /&gt;regarding the utter frustration we as English-speaking Americans&lt;br /&gt;experience on a daily basis. Hopefully, this will go beyond just an e-mail&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; This is an experience that happened to my wife today.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;April 1, 2007, in Denver County Traffic Court, Denver, Colorado&lt;br /&gt; She had to appear in traffic court as a result of aspeeding ticket. She was speeding and knew she would have a fine to pay.We have no problem with that. The rest of the court experience, however, is something we should all stand up and take exception to and ask what is happening to the United States?&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt; She was asked to be in court by 4:30PM today, with which she&lt;br /&gt;complied. However, when she got there, it was announced that all non-English speaking persons with traffic violations would be taken care of first. The reasoning being that the interpreter leaves every day at the same time and does not stay late. So a reward for not speaking English is one gets to go the front of the line.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt; Next, the non-English speaking individuals do not have driver's licenses or insurance. Never was it asked why they did not have licenses, what they were doing to get licenses or insurance. What they were given for driving without a license was a $35 fine. Since many of them did not have $35 they were also given payment terms. So, they are granted another reward for not having the money to pay the fines.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt; My wife, who was born in Denver, Colorado, raised here, and lived here all her life, was given a $249 fine for her speeding ticket, was not given payment terms, and had to wait until all the non-speaking, aliens were treated first.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt; If I understand this correctly:&lt;br /&gt; * Let's never require the non -English speaking individuals who live in this country to learn English.&lt;br /&gt; * Let's never require they become citizens of this United States of America.&lt;br /&gt; * Let's never require them to ever get driver's licenses and pray they never kill someone on the road with their driving.&lt;br /&gt; * Let's never require they get automobile insurance, so that all of us who do will pay higher and higher premiums.&lt;br /&gt; * Let's make sure that those of us who do get injured by these individuals pay higher and higher health insurance premiums&lt;br /&gt; * Let's make sure those who can pay their fines, pay big ones to subsidize all those $35 fines on payment plans.&lt;br /&gt; * Let's make sure we never inconvenience them and let's never inconvenience the interpreters in this country who may have to work late.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt; Our Country is eroding every day right before our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;No country in the world has ever survived having 2 major languages. We are heading down that path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle_flag_anim.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3331653108964849585?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3331653108964849585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3331653108964849585&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3331653108964849585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3331653108964849585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-is-happening-to-our-country.html' title='What Is Happening To Our Country??'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_eagle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4555739432614704187</id><published>2007-07-15T12:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:17:18.062-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage~This Is So True</title><content type='html'>Marriage (Part I )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typical macho man married typical good-looking lady, and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after the wedding, he laid down the following rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll be home when I want, if I want and at what time&lt;br /&gt;I want -- and I don't expect any hassle from you.&lt;br /&gt;I expect a great dinner to be on the table unless&lt;br /&gt;I tell you that I won't be home for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;I'll go hunting, fishing, boozing, and card-playing&lt;br /&gt;when I want with my old buddies, and don't you&lt;br /&gt;give me a hard time about it.&lt;br /&gt;Those are my rules. Any comments?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His new bride said:&lt;br /&gt;"No, that's fine with me. Just understand that there will be sex&lt;br /&gt;here at seven o'clock every night...whether you're here or not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(DARN SHE'S GOOD!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;************************************************&lt;br /&gt;Marriage (Part II)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband and wife had a bitter quarrel on the day of their 40th wedding anniversary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband yells, "When you die, I'm getting you a headstone&lt;br /&gt;that reads, 'Here Lies My Wife -- Cold As Ever'!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah?" she replies. "When you die, I'm getting you a headstone&lt;br /&gt;that reads, 'Here Lies My Husband -- Stiff At Last'!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(HE ASKED FOR IT!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;Marriage (Part III)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband (a doctor) and his wife are having a fight at the breakfast table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband gets up in a rage and says, "And you are no&lt;br /&gt;good in bed either," and storms out of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After some time he realizes he was nasty and&lt;br /&gt;decides to make amends and rings her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She comes to the phone after many rings, and the irritated husband&lt;br /&gt;says, "What took you so long to answer to the phone?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "I was in bed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In bed this early, doing what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Getting a second opinion!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(YEP, HE HAD THAT COMING, TOO!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;Marriage (Part IV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man has six children and is very proud of his achievement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is so proud of himself, that he starts calling his&lt;br /&gt;wife," Mother of Six" in spite of her objections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, they go to a party. The man decides that it IS time to go home&lt;br /&gt;and wants to find out if his wife is ready to leave as well. He shouts&lt;br /&gt;at the top of his voice, "Shall we go home Mother of Six?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife, irritated by her husband's lack of discretion,&lt;br /&gt;shouts right back, "Any time you're ready, Father of Four."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(RIGHT ON, LADY!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;THE SILENT TREATMENT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and his wife were having some problems at home&lt;br /&gt;and were giving each other the silent treatment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the man realized that the next day he would need his wife&lt;br /&gt;to wake him at 5:00 AM for an early morning business flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece&lt;br /&gt;of paper,"Please wake me at 5:00 AM." He left it where he knew she would find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning the man woke up, only to discover it&lt;br /&gt;was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furious, he was about to go to see why his wife hadn't wakened him when he&lt;br /&gt;noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God may have created man before woman, but there&lt;br /&gt;is always a rough draft before the masterpiece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-4555739432614704187?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/4555739432614704187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=4555739432614704187&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4555739432614704187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/4555739432614704187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/marriagethis-is-so-true.html' title='Marriage~This Is So True'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3795646696034764553</id><published>2007-07-11T17:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T18:01:41.869-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Soo True!</title><content type='html'>This woman should run for president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Written by a housewife from New Jersey and sounds like it! This is one ticked off lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet?...Well, I don't. I don't care at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured: I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank: I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts: I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and-you guessed it-I don't care !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you agree with this viewpoint, pass this on to all your E-mail friends. Sooner or later, it'll get to the people responsible for this ridiculous behavior!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't agree, then by all means hit the delete button. Should you choose the latter, then please don't complain when more atrocities committed by radical Muslims happen here in our great Country! And may I add:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem." -- Ronald Reagan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another quote that I would like to add AND.......I hope you forward all this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If we ever forget that we're One Nation Under God, then we will be a nation gone under." Also by.. Ronald Reagan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last thought for the day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the Anti-American sentiment and negativity, we should remember England 's Prime Minister Tony Blair's words during a recent interview. When asked by one of his Parliament members why he believes so much in America, he said: "A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many want in... And how many want out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you:&lt;br /&gt;1. Jesus Christ&lt;br /&gt;2. The American G. I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/eagle_flag_anim.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3795646696034764553?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3795646696034764553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3795646696034764553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3795646696034764553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3795646696034764553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/this-is-soo-true.html' title='This Is Soo True!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_eagle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-6773870803991711369</id><published>2007-07-11T17:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T17:46:38.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Man And The Dog</title><content type='html'>Battle. "I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at Me When I'm driving."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer Than I really&lt;br /&gt;felt. Dad glared at me, then turned Away and settled back.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At home I left Dad in front of the television and went Outside to&lt;br /&gt;collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds Hung in the air with a promise&lt;br /&gt;of rain. The rumble of Distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.&lt;br /&gt;What Could I do about him? Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and&lt;br /&gt;Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors And had reveled in pitting his&lt;br /&gt;strength against the Forces of nature. He had entered grueling&lt;br /&gt;lumberjack Competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in His house&lt;br /&gt;were filled with trophies that attested to His prowess. The years&lt;br /&gt;marched on relentlessly. The First time he couldn't lift a heavy log,&lt;br /&gt;he joked About it; but later that same day I saw him outside Alone,&lt;br /&gt;Straining to lift it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about His advancing age,&lt;br /&gt;or when he couldn't do something he Had done as a younger man.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a Heart attack. An&lt;br /&gt;ambulance sped him to the hospital While a paramedic administered CPR&lt;br /&gt;to keep blood and Oxygen flowing! At the hospital, Dad was rushed&lt;br /&gt;into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside&lt;br /&gt;Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow&lt;br /&gt;doctor's Orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with&lt;br /&gt;sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally&lt;br /&gt;stopped altogether.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with&lt;br /&gt;us on our small farm. We hoped the Fresh air and rustic atmosphere&lt;br /&gt;would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the&lt;br /&gt;Invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything&lt;br /&gt;I did. I became frustrated and moody.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We Began to bicker and&lt;br /&gt;argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation.&lt;br /&gt;The clergyman set up weekly counseling  appointments for us. At the&lt;br /&gt;close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled&lt;br /&gt;mind.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;But the months wore on and God was silent. A raindrop struck my cheek.&lt;br /&gt;I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I&lt;br /&gt;believe a Supreme Being had created the universe I had difficulty&lt;br /&gt;believing&lt;br /&gt;that God cared about the tiny Human being on this earth. I was tired of&lt;br /&gt;waiting for A God who didn't answer. Something had to be done and It was&lt;br /&gt;up&lt;br /&gt;to me to do it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each&lt;br /&gt;of&lt;br /&gt;the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my&lt;br /&gt;problem&lt;br /&gt;in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered.&lt;br /&gt;Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed,&lt;br /&gt;"I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."&lt;br /&gt;I listened as She read. The article described a remarkable study done&lt;br /&gt;at a nursing home all of the patients were under treatment for chronic&lt;br /&gt;depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they&lt;br /&gt;were given responsibility for a dog.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a&lt;br /&gt;questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of&lt;br /&gt;disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each&lt;br /&gt;contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired Dogs, curly-haired dogs,&lt;br /&gt;black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied&lt;br /&gt;each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big,&lt;br /&gt;too small, too much hair.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner&lt;br /&gt;struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It&lt;br /&gt;was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a&lt;br /&gt;caricature of the breed, years had etched his face and muzzle with&lt;br /&gt;shades of gray, his hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it&lt;br /&gt;was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they&lt;br /&gt;beheld me unwaveringly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"&lt;br /&gt;The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.&lt;br /&gt;"He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat In front of the&lt;br /&gt;gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim&lt;br /&gt;him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;He gestured helplessly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror.&lt;br /&gt;"You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's&lt;br /&gt;our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at&lt;br /&gt;the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take&lt;br /&gt;him," I said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me.&lt;br /&gt;When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I Was helping my&lt;br /&gt;prize out of the car when Dad shuffled Onto the front porch. "Ta-da!&lt;br /&gt;Look what I got for You, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then&lt;br /&gt;wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have&lt;br /&gt;gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag&lt;br /&gt;of bones. Keep It! I Don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and&lt;br /&gt;turned back toward the house.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and&lt;br /&gt;pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's&lt;br /&gt;staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those&lt;br /&gt;words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, His eyes&lt;br /&gt;narrowed&lt;br /&gt;and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists,&lt;br /&gt;when suddenly the&lt;br /&gt;Pointer pulled free from my grasp he wobbled toward my dad and sat down&lt;br /&gt;in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower&lt;br /&gt;jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the&lt;br /&gt;anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his&lt;br /&gt;knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate&lt;br /&gt;Friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne, together he and&lt;br /&gt;Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down&lt;br /&gt;dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams,&lt;br /&gt;angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services&lt;br /&gt;together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.&lt;br /&gt;Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years.&lt;br /&gt;Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose&lt;br /&gt;burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our&lt;br /&gt;bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's&lt;br /&gt;room.  Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left&lt;br /&gt;quietly&lt;br /&gt;sometime during the night.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne&lt;br /&gt;lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he&lt;br /&gt;had slept on.&lt;br /&gt;As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently&lt;br /&gt;thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace&lt;br /&gt;of mind.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks&lt;br /&gt;like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews&lt;br /&gt;reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and&lt;br /&gt;Cheyenne had made filling the church.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog&lt;br /&gt;who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2.&lt;br /&gt;"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers." "I've often thanked God for&lt;br /&gt;sending that angel," he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not&lt;br /&gt;seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right&lt;br /&gt;rticle...&lt;br /&gt;Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the Animal shelter, his calm&lt;br /&gt;acceptance&lt;br /&gt;and complete devotion to my father. .and the proximity of their deaths.&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after&lt;br /&gt;all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/image00112.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-6773870803991711369?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/6773870803991711369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=6773870803991711369&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6773870803991711369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/6773870803991711369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/old-man-and-dog.html' title='The Old Man And The Dog'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_image00112.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8316213501366867579</id><published>2007-07-07T11:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T11:02:48.874-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mean Moms</title><content type='html'>Someday when my children are old enough to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Understand the logic that motivates a parent,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to ask where you were going,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With whom, and what time you would be home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to be silent and let you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Discover that your new best friend was a creep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to stand over you for &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hours while you cleaned your room,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A job that should have taken 15 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to let you see anger, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children must&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Learn that their parents aren't perfect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to let you assume the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Responsibility for your actions even when the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all, I loved you enough to say &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO when I knew you would hate me for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were the most difficult battles of all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And someday when your children are old enough to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Understand the logic that motivates parents, you will tell them..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was your Mom mean? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know mine was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the meanest mother in the whole world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While other kids ate candy for breakfast,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to have cereal, eggs, and toast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to eat sandwiches. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different from what other kids had, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think we were convicts in a prison. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had to know who our friends were &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what we were doing with them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She insisted that if we said we&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were ashamed to admit it, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she had the nerve to break &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Child Labor Laws by making us work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs. And get a real job when we were almost old enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she would lie awake at night &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of more things for us to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always insisted on us telling the truth,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we were teenagers, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She could read our minds &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And had eyes in the back of her head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, life was really tough! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The horn when they drove up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had to come up to the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she could meet them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While everyone else could date &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they were 12 or 13, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to wait until we were 16. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of our mother we missed out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On lots of things other kids experienced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of us have ever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Property or ever arrested for any crime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all her fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is what's wrong with the world today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just doesn't have enough mean moms!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PROUD TO BE A MEAN MOM!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/hateandlove.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8316213501366867579?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8316213501366867579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8316213501366867579&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8316213501366867579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8316213501366867579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/mean-moms.html' title='Mean Moms'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_hateandlove.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2163487583826128308</id><published>2007-07-07T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T10:57:01.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mid-Life</title><content type='html'>As my thirtieth birthday approaches..too fast...I have stopped and pondered my life so far. When I recieved this in my inbox it brought tears to my eyes..literally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down.   &lt;br /&gt;This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wing spans.   &lt;br /&gt;We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear without turning around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream, "Listen honey, even the Roman empire fell and those will too." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting on our biggest ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life is when you look at your know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and think: "For this I have stretch marks?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In mid-life your memory starts to go.  In fact the only thing we can retain is water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes Legs By Rand McNally -- more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of Wisconsin . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-life means that you become more reflective . . . You start pondering the "big" questions.   &lt;br /&gt;What is life?   &lt;br /&gt;Why am I here?   &lt;br /&gt;How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important.  We realize that breasts sag, hips expand and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile.  Would any of you trade the knowledge that you have now, for the body you had way back when?  Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired. That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a &lt;br /&gt;pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used &lt;br /&gt;up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming...."WOW !! WHAT A RIDE!!!!!" &lt;br /&gt;****Quoted From Dr.Phillip Murray****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/ShowLetter-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2163487583826128308?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2163487583826128308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2163487583826128308&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2163487583826128308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2163487583826128308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/mid-life.html' title='Mid-Life'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/comment%20stuff/th_ShowLetter-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-1075485208943876577</id><published>2007-07-07T10:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T10:47:02.791-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Political Correctness</title><content type='html'>Because of the climate of political correctness now pervading America, &lt;br /&gt;those of us in Oklahoma , Arkansas and Missouri will no longer  be referred  to as  HILLBILLIES.&lt;br /&gt;We ask that you now refer to us as OZARK-AMERICANS.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you'll excuse me, I got Possums to fry and Pecans to shell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/cwogirlSihouetteBW.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-1075485208943876577?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/1075485208943876577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=1075485208943876577&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1075485208943876577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/1075485208943876577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/political-correctness.html' title='Political Correctness'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_cwogirlSihouetteBW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5172134166386389590</id><published>2007-07-07T10:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T10:43:39.479-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Worry</title><content type='html'>This is another of those things I received in my e-mail and found that I just had to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, "It's their life," and feel nothing? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind , a teacher said, "Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I was 50, I was sick &amp; tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's warm smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are you a all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered I was worried." I smiled a warm smile. The torch has been passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/noname2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5172134166386389590?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5172134166386389590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5172134166386389590&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5172134166386389590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5172134166386389590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/worry.html' title='Worry'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_noname2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-3894736555647727132</id><published>2007-07-06T12:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T12:08:00.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Coffee</title><content type='html'>A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.  Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.  Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups--porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain, some expensive, some exquisite--telling them to help themselves to the coffee. &lt;br /&gt; When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:  "If you noticed, all the nice-looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.  While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.    Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; In most cases, it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.  What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups . . .and then you began eyeing each other's cups.  Now consider this:  Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups.  They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of Life we live.  Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us."  God brews the coffee, not the cups . .   Enjoy your coffee!  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    (Then the part I like best). . &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The happiest people don't HAVE the best of everything.  They just MAKE the best of everything they have.  &lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;br /&gt;      Live simply, love generously, and care deeply!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-3894736555647727132?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/3894736555647727132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=3894736555647727132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3894736555647727132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/3894736555647727132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/gods-coffee.html' title='God&apos;s Coffee'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-8801463094823224073</id><published>2007-07-06T11:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T12:04:17.097-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To My Daughter</title><content type='html'>This is just one of those things I recieved in my e-mail and thought I would share. The beauty of this is profounding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick&lt;br /&gt;you up and take you to the park to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let&lt;br /&gt;you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the&lt;br /&gt;computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny&lt;br /&gt;grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck and I will&lt;br /&gt;buy you one if he comes by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be&lt;br /&gt;when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you&lt;br /&gt;are concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I&lt;br /&gt;won't stand over you trying to fix them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both&lt;br /&gt;a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a&lt;br /&gt;story about how you were born and how much I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on&lt;br /&gt;the porch and count all the stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss&lt;br /&gt;my favorite TV shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you&lt;br /&gt;pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest&lt;br /&gt;gift ever given.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for&lt;br /&gt;their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their&lt;br /&gt;children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers&lt;br /&gt;who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly,&lt;br /&gt;and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*And when I kiss you good night I will hold you a little tighter, a&lt;br /&gt;little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask Him&lt;br /&gt;for nothing, except one more day.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/7d9c4427-b9bc-423d-bee6-2fbfb9ae495.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-8801463094823224073?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/8801463094823224073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=8801463094823224073&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8801463094823224073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/8801463094823224073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/to-my-daughter.html' title='To My Daughter'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_7d9c4427-b9bc-423d-bee6-2fbfb9ae495.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-5411712666701976982</id><published>2007-07-04T23:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T00:10:30.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Day!</title><content type='html'>I would just like to say that this is my second posting for the day. If you only have time to read one...pick the other one! It has a more meaningful and important content than this one will have.&lt;br /&gt;I have had quite the day! It is quite the trip to my aunt's house and this year we decided to load up the kids and go. It was the least we could do since there will be no more Fourth of July Blowouts unless someone else carries on the tradition. My aunt and uncle are starting to feel their years a bit more than before so they have decided to retire. I just dread knowing that unless I do it, there will never be another. They have been going on since my mother was a kid. However, the thought of having all of those people at my house is quite overwhelming. I have never hosted for more than fifteen people (my crew included) and I also worry that no one would show up if I tried to do such a thing. I have had parties before where no one showed up..those aren't very fun let me tell ya!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to my story. We load the kids up in the van. When we get into the van it seems like a normal sized van. However, once you have ridden in a van with four kids for over two hours, a van just isn't a van. It is more like a compact car. We did make it however, and I was finally able to see some family members who I had not seen in 15 years. It was a great day and well worth the trip. My husband had a heck of a time getting me back into that van for the ride home. He thought (and still does he he he) that it was because I was enjoying myself too much to leave. Truth be told, I just did not want to ride all the way back home with the kids! I knew that they were tired and I can't handle too much whining. I was blessed though. They fell asleep about 5 minutes into the car ride and slept almost all the way home. They did wake up hungry, but that was no surprise. They always do. I was prepared, however, since I have been doing this mom thing for quite a while now and had cookies and juice to last through the rest of the trip. It was quite the day for all of us. As I sit here writing this I listen to the sounds of snoring. A sign that I have done my job and given my children a happy and carefree day that has totally worn them out. Ahh silence!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-5411712666701976982?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/5411712666701976982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=5411712666701976982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5411712666701976982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/5411712666701976982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-day.html' title='What A Day!'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-2426127381673859584</id><published>2007-07-04T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T08:36:59.087-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Room</title><content type='html'>THE ROOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a&lt;br /&gt;class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later &lt;br /&gt;told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ever wrote.." It also was the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while&lt;br /&gt;cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had&lt;br /&gt;been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of &lt;br /&gt;his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.&lt;br /&gt;Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering&lt;br /&gt;Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's &lt;br /&gt;life..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized &lt;br /&gt;that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact&lt;br /&gt;that&lt;br /&gt;people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving&lt;br /&gt;home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in &lt;br /&gt;Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck&lt;br /&gt;unharmed but&lt;br /&gt;stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family&lt;br /&gt;portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I &lt;br /&gt;think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore&lt;br /&gt;said of &lt;br /&gt;the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life&lt;br /&gt;after&lt;br /&gt;death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see &lt;br /&gt;him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian's Essay: The Room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.&lt;br /&gt;There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with&lt;br /&gt;small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list &lt;br /&gt;titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which&lt;br /&gt;stretched&lt;br /&gt;from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very&lt;br /&gt;different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch &lt;br /&gt;any attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began&lt;br /&gt;flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I &lt;br /&gt;recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I&lt;br /&gt;knew &lt;br /&gt;exactly where I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my&lt;br /&gt;life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in &lt;br /&gt;a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled &lt;br /&gt;with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and&lt;br /&gt;exploring&lt;br /&gt;their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of &lt;br /&gt;shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if&lt;br /&gt;anyone &lt;br /&gt;was watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."&lt;br /&gt;The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have &lt;br /&gt;Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed&lt;br /&gt;at."&lt;br /&gt;Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my&lt;br /&gt;brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger",&lt;br /&gt;"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to &lt;br /&gt;be surprised by the contents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I&lt;br /&gt;hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. &lt;br /&gt;Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these &lt;br /&gt;thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.&lt;br /&gt;Each was&lt;br /&gt;written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized&lt;br /&gt;the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, &lt;br /&gt;and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I &lt;br /&gt;knew that file represented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run&lt;br /&gt;through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test &lt;br /&gt;its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost &lt;br /&gt;animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see&lt;br /&gt;these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" &lt;br /&gt;In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had &lt;br /&gt;to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began&lt;br /&gt;pounding it &lt;br /&gt;on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and&lt;br /&gt;pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear &lt;br /&gt;it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my&lt;br /&gt;forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel &lt;br /&gt;With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I&lt;br /&gt;pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell &lt;br /&gt;into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then&lt;br /&gt;the&lt;br /&gt;tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started &lt;br /&gt;in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried&lt;br /&gt;out &lt;br /&gt;of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves &lt;br /&gt;swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I&lt;br /&gt;must&lt;br /&gt;lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw &lt;br /&gt;Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched &lt;br /&gt;helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear&lt;br /&gt;to &lt;br /&gt;watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His &lt;br /&gt;face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read&lt;br /&gt;every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He &lt;br /&gt;looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger&lt;br /&gt;me. I&lt;br /&gt;dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He&lt;br /&gt;walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. &lt;br /&gt;But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end &lt;br /&gt;of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over&lt;br /&gt;mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to &lt;br /&gt;say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on &lt;br /&gt;these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.&lt;br /&gt;The&lt;br /&gt;name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently &lt;br /&gt;took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I&lt;br /&gt;don't&lt;br /&gt;think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant &lt;br /&gt;it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up,&lt;br /&gt;and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were&lt;br /&gt;still cards to be written.&lt;br /&gt;"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." -Phil. 4:13 &lt;br /&gt;"For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes&lt;br /&gt;in&lt;br /&gt;Him shall not perish but have eternal life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this story in my E-Mail this week and just had to share it with you. The beauty of it brought me to tears. I just knew that it was something I had to share with all my avid readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/angel2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/ATT110321132.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8362244750998685071-2426127381673859584?l=lilmamma4.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/feeds/2426127381673859584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8362244750998685071&amp;postID=2426127381673859584&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2426127381673859584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8362244750998685071/posts/default/2426127381673859584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilmamma4.blogspot.com/2007/07/room.html' title='The Room'/><author><name>lilmamma4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14997514175719700723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BApAa4N97AY/R447wHl1TkI/AAAAAAAAACU/BiX5robbBzk/S220/PICT09241+(2).JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa152/Shauna065/random%20stuff/th_angel2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8362244750998685071.post-4572369793387714725</id><published>2007-07-01T10:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T10:25:34.948-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Redneck Computer Terms</title><content type='html'>Backup - What you do when you run across a &lt;br /&gt;skunk in the woods&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Byte -Whut them dang flys do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bug - The reason you give for calling in sick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chip - Pasture muffins that you try not to step in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crash - When you go to Junior's party uninvited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diskette - Female disco dancer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hacker - Uncle Leroy after 32 years of smoking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard drive - Trying to climb a steep, muddy hill with 3 flat &lt;br /&gt;tires and pulling a trailer load of fertilizer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyboard - Place to hang your truck keys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mac - Big Bubba's favorite fast food&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mouse Pad - Where Mickey and Minnie live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Online - Where you hang your clothes to dry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terminal - Time to call the undertaker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Windows - Place in the truck to hang your guns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modem - How you got rid of your dandelions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reboot - What you do when the first pair gets &lt;br /&gt;covered with barnyard stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Network - How to get yer bait for fishin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Digital control - What yore fingers do on the TV remote&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Packet - What you do to a suitcase before a trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Log on - Making the wood stove hotter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Log off - Don't add no more wood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Download - Gettin' the farwood offn the pickup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Megahertz - When yer not keerful gettin' that&lt;br /&gt;farwood downloaded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prompt - Whut th mail ain't in the winter taim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screen - Whut to shut when it's black fly season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Microchip - Whut's left in the munchie bag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laptop - Whur the kitty sleeps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter - Northern 'fer c'mon in y'all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Software - 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