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Posted on 06/01/2008 5:39:33 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
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and...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yN-6PbqAPM
OMG breaking news from SO CAL news
Comedian George Carlin died just announced on 10pm news
Good morning,
Ms Feather!
Afternoon, TT!
Good morning,
Fellow Lardites!!!
a friend of mine in Australia had to play at being a short-term bachelor hen his wife went to see Momma for a few days, and to tease him a bit I wrote this. A good lesson why leaving a man on his own often leads to trouble!
________________________________________
Bacheloring is Dangerous
Now Wayne’s wife took a trip to her mama far away
so he’ll whacking in a new vanity to surprise mama with as a treat
he still managed to stir up quite a noteworthy international feat
even as he was left a short-term bach, for those few easy days
His gut got to rumbling, and food his clarion call became
and with a frightful flurry, the scene in the kitchen was insane
he added this, and added that, and a pinch then two of tarragon
paprika red and chilies mild, along with different pastas by the bag
and then the crowing touch, prawns fresh from the shore galore
Some left over potatoes and an odd little vegetable thing he’d never seen
sunflower seeds and a sort of weed that’d he’d seen in the vase by the wall
he mixed and he added things on a whim, singing some odd little tune call
perfectly sure he was a chef du jour, (whatever that might mean?)
A nice big flowered dish, and the matching cover too he found there
he buttered it inside, through perhaps, but not all that sure why,
and piled everything inside, drenching all in Guinness fair (sigh)
in the oven it went and he grinned at his mastery of kitchen flair
Back to the vanity while dinner cooked merrily away
he fitted boards and shimmed them so the fit a thing of care
and as he labored with his silly grin, he was sadly so unaware
of what was happening in that flowered pot its fair to say
The bubbling and moaning from the thing there within
was alarming to the mice who packed and left that day
for whatever was in there was not something with which to play
he never heard its birthing, its creation covered by his din
He never saw the tentacle that slipped from under the lid
nor how the thing snatched the cat and pulled it in, in a flash
he went on fitting the lower cabinet door, giving the hinges a bash
and sang louder as he fitted the sink, knowing she’d like what he did
The thing in the pot slipped from the oven, and swiftly went out the door
Leaving some bits of it as it went looking for good things to snack
Happy to just run, and outright abandon that damn noisy old shack
As cat it found good was dingo and iguana, and ‘roo even more?
It grew as it ate, and ate even more, the trail of destruction so clear to see
the line of the damage and that shiny trail of odd chili smelling slime
led troops and police speeding away like Keystone Kops doing mime
and it was one guy’s idea of an alien monster that crawled from the sea
The Navy alerted, UN troops on the run, police were packing very big guns
and they found the monster in the foothills nearby, wolfing down sheep
the piles of bones were scattered about and the hides stacked in a heap
the thing had handily consumed sheep by the flock and cats by the tons
It was that that the Guinness started to bubble, and things went a wry
and the monster belched and darkened the sky with all the ate bits
the mess was a green noxious odious slime that stuck wherever it hit
and the monster fled even before being seen by the planes in the sky
It race for Wayne’s, the place it knew as home, for it was feeling faint
and it lost size as it went, disgorging with abandon in the stress of its plight
it raced alone seeking safety of its little homey flowered pot so right
reaching ‘home’ it felt so glad, sickened by the Guinness’s awful taint
It slipped unseen into the pot and lay down to rest, its coma was so swift
so it never saw Wayne open the oven door and take out the pot with a smile
and never had a chance to say even a word as onto a plate it made a pile
nor when Wayne ate it up, making of it a short snack for this shift
Now Wayne found the taste odd, and swore not to make it again
amazed at the news of a ‘Monster’ that had cleaned out all the sheep pen
then disappeared from view, after a puke or two, as if it had never been
and as Wayne got back to work he muttered, “Its likely paying for its sins!”
Happy Birthday
Ms Feather!
Happy Birthday my friend, may it be filled with good things, and good people, much love and many laughs, and may you have time to treasure each, and be treasured in return.
THE ADVANTAGES OF GETTING OLDER:
Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off!
Kidnappers are not very interested in you.
It's harder and harder for sexual harassment charges to stick...
If you've never smoked, you can start now and it won't have time
to hurt you...
Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't
remember them, either!!
Your eyes won't get much worse...
Things you buy now don't have time to wear out...
And, one of the best advantages of being old...
In a hostage situation, you are likely to be released first!!
Damn, getting older does have advantage!!!
Chuckle on the Shark Goldfish.
Ahhhh, Kathy, lovely dragonfly, thank you. Love the Happy Birthday Song.
Hi Dutchman, thanks for the signs! LOL
The Tom Rush - Remember Song is funny as heck! ;0)
Woo Hoo Cubbies Win!
Pondering Old Age
How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all I am able to grin
when I recall where my get up has been.
Old age is golden-so I’ve heard it said-
but sometimes I wonder when I get into bed,
with my ears in a drawer and my teeth in a cup,
my eyes on the table until I wake up.
Ere sleep dims my eyes I say to myself,
“Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?”
And I’m happy to say as I close my door,
my friends are the same, perhaps even more.
When I was young, my slippers were red,
I could pick up my heels right over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
but still I could dance the whole night through.
But now I am old, my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
my get up and go has got up and went.
But I really don’t mind when I think, with a grin,
of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life’s competition,
I accommodate myself with complete repetition.
I get up each morning, and dust off my wits,
pick up my paper and read the “obits”.
If my name is missing, I know I’m not dead,
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Success Is...
At age 4....success is....not peeing in your pants.
At age 12...success is....having friends.
At age 17...success is....having a drivers license.
At age 20...success is....having sex.
At age 35...success is....having money.
At age 50...success is....having money.
At age 60...success is....having sex.
At age 70...success is....having a drivers license.
At age 75...success is....having friends.
At age 80...success is....not peeing in your pants
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