Saturday, May 10, 2008

How Fast Can You Type?

85 words


Wow! I had no idea I could type that fast. Guess being a court reporter didn't hurt.


Wednesday, May 7, 2008

My Private Parts Died

An old man, Mr. Wallace, was living in a nursing home.

One day he appeared to be very sad and depressed.

Nurse Tracy asked him if there was anything wrong,

'Yes, Nurse Tracy ,' said Mr. Wallace.

'My Private Part died today, and I am very sad.'

Knowing her patients were a little forgetful and sometimes a little crazy, she replied, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Wallace. Please accept my condolences.'

The following day, Mr. Wallace was walking down the hall with his Private Part hanging out of his pajamas.

He met Nurse Tracy. 'Mr. Wallace,' she said, 'You shouldn't be walking down the hall like that.

Please put your Private Part back inside your pajamas.'

'But, Nurse Tracy I can't,' replied Mr. Wallace. 'I told you yesterday that my Private Part died.

'Yes,' said Nurse Tracy, 'you did tell me that, but why is it hanging out of your pajamas?'

'Well,' he replied, 'Today is the viewing.'

Thanks, Martha

He's Got Some Mighty Big Shoes To Fill

Well, I couldn't help myself. I miss having a cat around. So here's my Mother's Day present.

What do you think? We got him at the Fort Worth Animal Care & Control Center. He's six weeks old and absolutely adores Maddie (for now he does). I can't seem to come up with a name for him. His name the FWACC gave him is Riley, but he doesn't look like a Riley to me and Maddie can't say that very good. I was thinking about Woobie or Lobo. The girl at FWACC said he reminded her of a wolf and lobo is spanish for wolf.

So to my two readers: HELP US NAME OUR KITTEN.

The prize is aboslutely nothing because I haven't hit the big time yet.

Real Mothers

Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it.

Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox.

Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids.

Real Mothers know that dried playdough doesn't come out of shag carpet.

Real Mothers sometimes ask "why me?" and get their answer when a little voice says, "because I love you best."

Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or years or grade. . .

It is marked by the progression of Mama to Mommy to Mother.

A Mother's Day Poem

This is definitely NSFW, but it's funny.


Monday, May 5, 2008

El Camino Del Ray

And I'm not talking about the car. I would most definitely fall off.