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Posts archive for: August, 2007
  • Only in Scotland...

    does a man need a license to carry a purse...erm, I mean, wallet!

    Read on...

    Sporrans may become a relic of the past. New laws designed to protect endangered species like badgers and otters, kilt wearers may face prosecution if they do not have a license for the fur on their sporrans. Though the law applies to those animals killed after 1994, if a person cannot account for the source of the fur – even if it is a family heirloom – and produce a licence, a hefty fine and six months prison time may be levied.

    A Scottish soldier in full dress marches into a chemists to speak to
    the druggist. The Scot opens his sporran and pulls out a neatly folded
    cotton bandana, opens it to reveal a smaller silk square which he
    unfolds to reveal a condom. The condom has a number of patches on it.
    He holds it up. "How much to repair it?" the Scot asks the man at the counter.
    "Six pence," says the man. "How much for a new one?" "Ten pence."

    The Scot folds the condom into the silk square and the cotton bandana,
    places it in his sporran and marches down the aisle and out the door
    of the chemists.A moment or two later a great shout goes up, followed by an even greater shout. The Scot walks into the chemist's again and back to the man behind the counter.

    "The regiment has taken a vote," the Scot says. "We'll have a new one."

  • Nancy's Advice for the Ladies:

    Ladies, if you want to humiliate your boyfriend or hubby in public, use these three little words: "Hold my purse."

  • Dr Who Captions for Friday


    "Waugh! Leave it to BBC Wales to serve currried laver bread and spicy jellied eels for lunch."


    "For the last time, Doctor---No! You cannot try on my wedding dress!"


    "Okay, Martha, I confess, I did nick a pair of your panites from the drying rack--and very comfortable they are, too."

  • Readjustment needed?

    So, I got that talking to, last night at work, about how my health is affecting my job. Now what? How do I turn this around--can I even turn this around? Is it worth it, anymore? Beats me. I really am getting tired tho, of being told how pale I look, how limp my hair is, how old I look and act (and feel)...yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Deal with it!

    For one thing, my health issue is looking to be a drawn-out affair, and not great to live with. Nothing much I can do about that. The apathy/depression, tiredness...just are going to be there.

    I suppose I should ring up my sister, tomorrow. I've not seen her--or any of my few remaining relations, since the day we buried mum--Nov. 17th 2005, and I've not even talked to my sister--she's always gone her own way, she has---since the day I was in hospital, back in June, getting those blood transfusions. Don't know what we'll talk about, mind--we're more strangers who love each other, than sisters.

    So, have a few things to do, today. Wrote Accord Hospice story #41, in the wee hours of the morning...this really is getting to be a chore, I must say--not that I mind, after all, it was my idea--daft idea, but mine, nonetheless.

    Not feeling much like writing, of late--or doing much of anything. I'm trying to carry on as usual, but it's sometimes quite taxing on me. With no one here at all, some days are much longer than others, I have to admit. But, one day, is pretty much like all the others, and some days, I literally don't remember what day it is. I have to actually look at the calendar in my kitchen. Getting senile at 46, what a joy that is.

    I know I have to make some re-adjustments to my life, somehow, but, unfortunately, am at a loss as to how to accomplish that.

  • And now, for a little Cowboy humour...

    The old cowhand came riding into town on a hot, dry, dusty day. The local sheriff watched from his chair in front of the saloon as the Cowboy wearily dismounted and tied his horse to the rail a few feet in front of the sheriff.
    "Howdy, stranger..."
    "Howdy, Sheriff..."

    The cowboy then moved slowly to the back of his horse, lifted its tail, and placed a big kiss were the sun don't shine.He dropped the horse's tail, stepped up on the walk, and aimed towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

    "Hold on, Mister..."
    "Sheriff?"
    "Did I just see what I think I just saw?"
    "Reckon you did, Sheriff...I got me some powerful chapped lips..."
    "And that cures them?"
    "Nope, but it keeps me from lickin' em."

  • Too Hot to Handle

    Geez--it's hot in here--81 F outside, but 88 F in my bedroom!

    I have to finish the housework, but am loathe to move--sticking to everything, it's so humid in here. I hate this weather, wish it was cold again. It wasn't so bad when I had an air conditioner and a lake and/or river, with a public beach nearby. But have neither, now, so I just have to be uncomfortable and deal with it.

    I am deeply sad Mr Tennant's leaving--but also, very happy for him. Hamlet would be a great role for him, I must admit. He must be very much looking forward to that.

    I loved studying Hamlet, back when I was 44, during my summer class in World Lit. I got to watch the movie twice, besides reading the play. Despite having to drive the hour drive on the two-lane road to my school in Vermont, four days a week, in the hot July weather, behind long lines of senors in whopping huge caravans, with no air conditioning in my car, and then--having to roast in a hot classroom for 3 hours...it was a great class. We studied other stuff, as well, but the prof was really into Hamlet, so I got a lot out of it.

  • Meh--everyone's a cynic...

    You Are 48% Cynical*

    Yes, you are cynical, but more than anything, you're a realist.
    You see what's screwed up in the world, but you also take time to remember what's right.

    How Cynical Are You?
    http://www.blogthings.com/howcynicalareyouquiz/

  • Dr Who Newsflash!! Tennant Leaving Who!!!

    p28fbe96cc7_big

    It has been confirmed that Mr. Tennant will be performing with the RSC, next summer. He will be playing Hamlet--congratulations to him for that, and also will be doing a small part in another Shakespearean play, as well.

    Alas, therefore this news is also confirming that Series 4 will be his last stint as the Docctor. (There's no way he can do both at once, unless the filming/broadcast schedule drastically changes--and somehow I don't foresee the BBC doing that).

    He's not leaving yet, tho', and DT fans and Whovians alike, will have one more year to take in the wonderful performances of this highly talented and brilliant young actor, who has come to win the hearts of Whovians and non-Whovian's, all across the globe.

  • Hot Day in the City

    Well, it's nearly 1 in the afternoon, and I'm still in my jim-jams. First time I've done that in a while, I think. I don't necessarily feel better, but I do feel more rested than I have in several days.

    Charlie's being such a big baby lately, especially when I have to leave for work--he flops down at my feet, rolls over on his back (not a mean feat for my little bowling ball with fur) and rolls his pale soulful eyes pathetically at me--like that horribly sad-eyed look that Puss-in-Boots gave Shrek in the 2nd Shrek movie. God! They do know how to make you feel guilty, don't they?

    I don't know what's got into him--he keeps picking on Flame for no reason--she doesn't like Charlie, and he knows it, so he deliberately teases her--stands close and stares at her, or just...purposely annoys her....then she spits and hisses at him, and he pouts and mewls--and if I yell at him to leave her alone, he will stalk off, crying piteously,in his squeeky little cat voice (why such a big cat, meows like a mouse, I've no idea) as if to say, "you don't love me anymore!" Kids! What are you going to do with them? :DD

    GLENS FALLS WEATHER AS OF 12:56PM EST:

    80 °F / 27 °C
    Haze
    Humidity: 64%
    Dew Point: 67 °F / 19 °C
    Wind: 4 mph / 6 km/h / 1.5 m/s from the South
    Pressure: 29.96 in / 1014 hPa (Steady)
    Heat Index: 82 °F / 28 °C
    Visibility: 6.0 miles / 9.7 kilometers
    UV: 9 out of 16
    Clouds: Clear - Hazy

    So, I'm off to have what I'm laughably calling "lunch"---in this case, sliced hot dogs and corn in BBQ sauce, over toast, before doing the house chores. Today and tomorrow, I only work night shift, and Saturday off, so I am getting a bit of a rest, thank goodness, as I sorely, sorely need one.

  • A Funky Twitch and 60 More to go (groan).

    Well, for some reason, I just could give a damn about writing in my blog, tonight--I feel a bit weird, and mysteriously depressed, today. Nothing I can really put my finger on, mind, just..a bit..off.

    I've developed a twitch in my bad (right) eye, the one that I'm very marginally blind in..not sure what that is about. Not a bad twitch, just a several times during the day, I was having trouble seeing out of it. Might be just this cold that wants to start, but I'm managing to beat off, so far.

    Wrote story number 40 tonight--a somewhat moronic Dr Who story...in my present funk, it's a wonder I was able to write anything. I wanted it to be funny, but it was just..stupid. Oh well. At least I wrote SOMETHING for day 40.

    I'm not sure why I even decided to do this--now I'm stuck with it, and must see it through, of course, but it is a bit wearing, having to commit to writing a "fresh" story each day--my feeling is that if written in advance, this would hardly be a "challenge"--which is what it's meant to be. I mean, I'm very obviously not going after the Guiennes Book of World's Records for Drabble writing, but on the same token, the words "writer's challenge" wouldn't hold much meaning--in my mind--if the stories were all written well in advance of each day's blog entry. At least, that's how I feel.

    I've not had a donation or new sponsor for Accord, in several weeks, so I have come to the realization that I'm getting all I'm going to get, so I've stopped asking for sponsors, and am just concentrating on writing the stories. I tried using my naf journalism skills to write a press release (I got an A- in my Public Relations class, but you'd never know it), but most of them got rejected, so I put a halt to that. I get, as a rule, less than 10 views a day--and okay. It's done all it can do, so I'm just cranking out stories for the next 60 days and acknowledging that I've gone as far as I can go with it. And, that's okay. I mean, I'm just one woman, sitting alone in my tiny apartment--usually after night shift is done, writing these daft little stories--and maybe, if one or two people a week, just visit Accord's website, then that's fine. At least I'm not just sitting here, petting a cat and playing cribbage on the computer, or re-watching Dr Who for the umteenth time (not that I mind that, ha-ha)...maybe that the best I can ever hope for...I don't know. But...no whinging, no complaints from me. I'm very grateful for my friend's support and caring, and that makes it all worth while.

    But some days--or rather, usually, nights/mornings...I admit, I do dread having to think of a story to write. I'm only human.

    "Tell me a story, Master?"

  • Joke of the Night

    Well, I ain't got nothin' to say (My gosh, I have been ringing up the deep south too much, of late), but...I have a joke for you.

    Q: What's the difference between a Scotsman and a Rolling Stone?
    A: A Rolling Stone says "hey you, get off of my cloud!", while a Scotsman says "Hey McLeod, get off of my ewe!"

  • When a Brit-com meets the Taliban...

  • Nothing

    For once, I've got nothing at all to say. Meh. Who cares?

  • Ouch!!!


    I'm guessing the wifey wasn't going to be having a cuddle with her hubby, after this game?

  • An OldeTale from New England

    Ocean-Born Mary
    retold by
    S. E. Schlosser

    Elizabeth and James Wilson were Irish immigrants from Londonderry, Ireland. In 1720 they set sail for America. They had been granted some land in Londonderry, New Hampshire, and were hoping to start a new life there.

    As they neared Boston, Elizabeth went into labor and gave birth to a daughter. While she was giving birth, a strange vessel accosted the ship. They were fired upon and were forced to heave to. Their ship was boarded by a band of swarthy pirates. Their leader, a surprisingly young man not yet twenty years of age, was dark, handsome, and ruthless. He was called Don Pedro, and his English was flawless as he ordered all the captives killed.

    At this fatal juncture, the cries of a newborn baby could be heard from down in the hold. Startled, Don Pedro ordered the captain to take him to the child. After gazing for a long time at the tiny girl, Don Pedro said to Elizabeth: "If you name this child after my mother - Mary - I will spare the lives of everyone on this ship." Frightened by the fierce pirate, Elizabeth hastily agreed.

    Don Pedro sent one of his men back to the pirate ship. When the man returned, he was carrying an armload of gifts. Don Pedro presented these to Elizabeth. Fingering a green brocaded silk with an odd look of tenderness on his ruthless face, he said: "This is for my Mary's wedding dress." Then he and his men returned to their ship and departed.

    Soon after their ship landed safely in Boston, James Wilson died. His widow and daughter went to Londonderry to claim the land in his name. Ocean-born Mary grew into a tall, beautiful red-haired woman. In 1742, wearing a green brocade gown made from the silk given to her by Don Pedro, Mary was married to James Wallace. They had five children, four sons and a daughter. Sadly, after the birth of his fourth son, James Wallace died.

    Around that time, Don Pedro, having retired from the sea, decided to build a home in New Hampshire. Having never forgotten his little Ocean-born Mary, Don Pedro began seeking to discover what became of her. Finding her a widow in Londonderry, he married her and brought her and her children to live in his grand mansion in Henniker. He gifted Mary with a stately coach and four, in which Mary would often be seen riding around the countryside. One by one, her sons grew up, married, and settled down near Mary.

    One day, coming in from an errand to town, Mary saw Don Pedro and one of his retired pirates carrying a large black trunk to the orchard in back. She heard the sounds of digging, and then silence. Don Pedro came back to the house alone, and they never spoke of the matter. But later, he told Mary that when he died, she should bury him and the treasure under the hearthstone. A year later, Mary came home one evening to an empty house. She started searching for her husband and found Don Pedro in the orchard, stabbed to death with a cutlass. Mary buried Don Pedro with his treasure under the hearthstone and there they lay to this day.

    After her death in 1814, Mary's ghost began to haunt the house where she had once lived with her pirate-husband. People would see a tall, beautiful red-haired woman come walking down the long staircase. Sometimes, she could be seen standing beside an upper window, or throwing something down the well. Others had witnessed Mary driving in her coach and four up to the front door of the house. The house was finally abandoned and later torn-down, although the house where her son Robert lived still stands and is sometimes called the Ocean-born Mary house.

    THE ACTUAL GRAVESTONE OF "OCEAN-BORN MARY"

  • Einstein agrees: Trekkies Drool!

    http://www.hetemeel.com/einsteinform.php

    With thanks to "tobstv"

  • Accord Hospice Story #38

    Last night, I wrote my 38th original story for Accord Hospice. www.nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    Why not pay a visit to Accord's website, find out what they're all about? You can even leave them a positive message on their guestbook! www.accord.org.uk

    DAY 38

    DRABBLE STORY #38

    The Starving Artist

    The museum was crowded: there was a great exhibition of the French Impressionists on. Alfred wandered the rooms all day, admiring the paintings. Alfred was a starving artist-- dreaming of his own fame.

    Just before closing, he went into the gift shop. Alfred spent a great deal of time, looking through the art posters on display in the back of the shop. Surreptitiously, he shoved one of the posters underneath his long coat. He walked out the door--only to be arrested by a policeman. When they questioned him why he stole the poster, he replied, “I had no Monet.”

    Just a reminder to new readers out there, that this material is COPYRIGHT. You may at no time reproduce this material on another website, book, magazine, contest, etc., without my express permission.

  • Dr Who Captions for Tuesday

    "Let's see what's happening on Big Brother...Oh, no-no-no-no! TheY can't get rid of Jonty!!"


    "Doctor! Stop playing Playstation2! It's time to go!"


    What the Doctor's (John Smith) really thinking: "Yes, I can see it's 1913..." (My God! She does look hot in that maid's outfit.")

  • Tuesday--just another day...

    Well, have to leave for my day shift, in about a half-hour. It's bad enough I don't like my job, I have no benefits, and am rarely allowed to work a full-time schedule...but to have my wages slashed to minimum wage, after giving them 9 months of my life--and some people in the office are worse off, they've been there 1 to 5 years--or more! Still, better than being laid off completely, I guess--tho' that's a distinct possibility.

    You know, one of the company founders left suddenly, back in the spring, and I distinctly remember thinking, that that was rather strange...and it was right after that, that things began to go downhill at the company...then, also, we were told a major client was also having difficulties, and had slashed the workload that they'd given our company for the last five years--tho' that doesn't directly effect my department.

    Ah well. It's just Tuesday, another spilt shift....I sucked at my job, yesterday--only one sale all day, and the car club guys, most of them totally sucked--behaving like a bunch of spoiled brats, rather than grown men--disgusting! So many American men, aren't very manly, any longer so many, these days, are just a bunch of mentally lazy overgrown rugrats--or at least, from my end, that's how it seems to me. I mean, how sad is it, that a grown man can't talk right to a lady, on the phone, but has a flippin' 5-=year old temper tantrum, because you are daring to call him after he gets home from work, or because you didn't say his name right? One guy got incensed, for me daring to suggest he do something about his problem, by ringing up the club to let them know about it (these idiots actually think a club with 50,000+ members, is somehow magically going to know that one member didn't get something in the mail--"well they SHOULD know I didn't get it!") Why are US men so terrified of picking up a telephone? Why are they so frightened of actually trying to fix a probalem? Why do they prefer yelling at an innocent lady, to getting off their bottoms and doing something? God, most US men have sunk low. Disgusting pigs. I really hate what the "humans" in this country are turning into.

    Oh, and one whinging witch from Kentucky, was actually snarking at me, because she didn't like the way I talked, or how I answered th phone...in this case, "hello? May I please speak to __________?" What the f___ is wrong with that???? Damn! And you non-US residents, want to know why Bush is still in office? It's a no-brainer...literally.

    Oh, and got turned down for yet another job, yesterday, as well. Nice to know you're wanted and in demand...not.

  • Don't Wear Tap Shoes in the Men's Room...

    A Senator from Idaho was arrested recently for misconduct at a Minnesota airport.

    Apparently, he was suspected of "lewd conduct" while in the men's room. This same senator has been accused in the past, of having a homosexual affair, which the married senator hotly denied--his closet door, it seems, is firmly closed.

    Apparently, a airport police officer was...erm..doing his business in the stall next to the senator, when he noticed the senator "tapping his foot." It seems, that foot-tapping in a men's room stall, is "code" for wanting sex (with the person in the next stall).

    (She raises her eyebrow) Ey???

    Well...you learn new things everyday. The lesson: If you're a straight guy? Don't wear tap shoes in a men's room.

  • And now for a little Redneck Humour...

    After having their 10th child, an Arkansas couple decided that that was enough. So the husband went to his doctor and told him that he and his wife didn't want to have any more children. The doctor told him that there was a procedure called a vasectomy that could fix the problem.

    The doctor told the man that he was to go home, get a cherry bomb, put it in a can, then hold the can up to his ear and count to 10. The Arky said to the doctor "I may not be the smartest man, but I don't see how putting a cherry bomb in a can next to my ear is going to help me." So the couple drove to Missouri to get a second opinion. The doctor was just about to tell them about the procedure for a vasectomy when he noticed they were from Arkansas.

    This doctor also told the man to go home and get a cherry bomb, place it in a tin can, hold it next to his ear and count to 10. Figuring that both doctors couldn't be wrong, the man went home, lit a cherry bomb and put it in a can. He held the can up to his ear and began to count, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." at which point he paused, placed the can between his legs and resumed counting on his other hand.


    The Newlywed photo of a Kentucky couple, Bobby Ray Lee(left) and his wife, a topless dancer the local saloon, Scarrie Lee.

  • Pussy Cheez Doodles

    Flame has been climbing all over me, whilst I'm sitting here--and now I've discovered why: She wants my Cheez Doodles snacks. They had them half price at Price Chopper, Saturday--something I rarely buy, but Flame loves them! (So do I, for that matter.) Flame likes them even more than Orville Reddenbacker's microwave movie theater butter flavor popcorn!

    I threw her one, and she scarfed it down...but she just licked that cheese powder off of the other one. My little puss loves her junk food.

    Flame on my bed

  • More David Tennant & Dr Who News and Rumours

    A solemn Scottish Timelord

    It's alllegedly been confirmed that actor David Tennant will be playing Hamlet for the RSC, in 2008.

    It's also been confirmed that Mr. Tennant will see series 4 of Dr Who, through to the end.

    Actresses Fenella Woolgar and Felicity Kendall both slated to definitely appear, as well as an actor from the old Blackadder series, Tim McImmerny. Also Keeping up Apperences' Clive Swift, and Geoffery Palmer (As Time Goes By) will also be doing Who.

    Rumours: Actress Joan Collins (Dynasty) is said to be in the running as the Doctor's other Time Lord nemesis, the Rani. (GAG ME!!!) Other "big stars" rumoured to be in Who: Dennis Hopper and Woody Allen. (Meh.)

    rumoured--and not denied, that Stephen Moffatt will replace Russell T. Davies as exec. producer/head writer.

    Still being bantered about that James Nesbitt (Jekell) will replace Tennant for series 5--despite denials by Stephen Moffatt.

    Also, as mentioned before, that there may be a two-Doctor, or mulit-Doctor eppy in the works.

    Billie Piper has hinted that she'd like to reappear on the programme, preferably during Tennant's last episode as the Doctor.

    That we haven't seen the last of the Doctor's "hand-in-a-jar."

    ...or, of the Master.

    Also, that another monster from the past, will come back to the show.

    And...that the Doctor will be "confronting his past" in the episode 13 of S4.

    story settings I know of, so far:

    Modern-day London (well..that's a give-me)

    Titanic's launch

    Ancient Rome

    1920's England

    Definitely one, and possibly three, alien planets

  • Well...more bad news, yadda-yadda-yadda...

    Had an ever-so-lovely meeting at work today--my work, the one that forces me to work under 40 hours (anything under 40 hours is officially part-time, in the USA), so they don't have to give me any benefits (medical/dental care, holidays/paid holidays, sick leave/paid sick leave, etc.)
    is going down the tubes--temporaraily, they say. Yeah, right.

    So, we get a 12% "temporary" pay cut, effective immediately. ("Temporary" meaning, maybe someday they'll reinstate it.) They've just let go two supervisors and the receptionist, and a number of people have either been sacked or quit. The office, which used to be jam-packed with people, is now virtually empty--and I'm not off in saying that most of us are very upset and worried--or, in my case, where this in nearly my entire source of income--just plain scared.

    I also lose my 1 year raise, this October.

    Life sucks, and then you die.

  • Duck Season...

  • Dr Who Captions for Monday


    "Daleks and Mondays always leave me feeling blue."


    "Hi. I'll have a Big Mac with fries and a Coke--oh, hurry will You? I only have 42 minutes for lunch!"


    "No, I'm not constipated, why do you say that?"

  • There's No Box Like Home.

    It's not easy, living in a box. But, it's one I built myself, so who am I to complain?

    I woke this morning, realizing that I no longer truly believe in anything--except debt and death. Ah, there's a future for you, ey? But, it's true. That really is my future. And, I can't whinge and moan, because I've put myself there.

    I mean, no one made me go back to college, at the tender age of 39. No one forced me into this prison of debt and uncertainty and a perpetual low-income lifestyle. I walked into if of my own accord.

    Ah well...I still have job, for the time being, my cats, my far-away friends, my blog...suppose that must count for something?

  • Old Theaters: Restoring Our Cultural and Artistic Heritage

    Having been seriously to moderately poor more than once in my lifetime--and homeless once, and nearly homeless twice, I'm all for anything that assists the poor and the homeless.

    Being a closet transcendentalist, a lifelong animal person, and, a former teenage tree hugger, I'm all for protecting animals and our environment.

    But what I'm also very much for, is preserving our cultural and artistic heritage. This is a reflection of who we are, as humans--what we imagine, what we create out of thin air. The ability by use of images, an