Quiet Time

I was reading in The Bible the other day about a prophecy regarding a great contest expected to take place in about the year 2011. 
The prophecy read something about how God had ordained the outcome of a contest watched by the entire world whereby a race of giant men covered in green with yellow markings and cages on their heads surrounded by people wearing dairy products triumphed in something called The Great Bowl XLV over a tribe from the east who were all dressed in black and were surrounded by a wild an unwashed group of people waving rags. 
After the contest was over, darkness covered the face of the earth over all the area of the tribe from the east but the sun shined bright over the land of the tribe from the west. So bright, in fact, that the ice and snow melted and the land was eternally freed from the ice prison that held it until now. There was rejoicing in the land of the green men but there was bitterness, weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth in the land of the black covered men. God was happy for the green men and sad for the black covered men, but he saw that His work was good and that justice had been done. 
He then turned the following year to smite a tribe called Vikings.
 
I can’t remember the reference but I’m sure I read it in Isaiah.  What do you suppose it means?

Something to think about:

As a writer--or, more aptly--as someone who knows how to correctly spell some common phrases, watching my child learn to speak is incredibly interesting. Enthralling. Terrifying.
Over the past couple of months, Shirley has begun to mimic our speech patterns and intonations perfectly, until recently, when I discovered that she is actually saying words.
The catch is that they aren't real words. They are words as she perceives them.
When heard from across the room, "nope," is "nope." But upon closer inspection, Shirley is not actually saying the English-spelled-out-word "nope." She's saying "ope," or sometimes, "mope." This is interesting to me because the phonetic "puh" sound involves both lips coming together (there's a real name for it), which she has not done at ALL until now. This is the same reason she has yet to say "Mama" (besides the fact that God thinks it's funny to watch me keep trying to teach her to use BOTH of her lips when phrasing sounds to make words). "What's this?" is actually "HUTSiss," "Yep" is actually, "Gep," and "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," is ... just kidding.

Unpaid Testimonial

I am a sucker for an infomercial.
Especially one about hair removal. (I know, I'm a freak.)
I never allow myself to actually ORDER something from the television as much as I might want to (I don't think I have enough cats to warrant late-night infomercial orders by phone), so imagine my THRILL when the European sensation, SmoothAway: Removes Hair Instantly & Pain Free was at my Walgreen's!
Basically, it's very, very fine grit sand paper that you use to remove unwanted hair while exfoliating your legs!!!

Some facts (ripped straight from the website!):
-The Fastest Selling, Most Popular Women's Product In Europe
-Exfoliates As You Use It
-Works Wonders On Sensitive Areas
-Easy, Safe, & Painless Hair Removal
-Not recommended for head hair or a man's face. (Though, apparently a woman's face is fair game.)



I was so excited about my find that I decided to stay up late and try it.
Turns out, IT WORKS! And, there really was NO PAIN, NO CHEMICALS and NO RAZOR BURN!



Check out my results (click on an image to enlarge)!
Before:

After:

Potato, potahto.

I've had some pretty bad jobs in my life.

And I'm not very old.

While I was in college, I had a data entry job at the headquarters for a company known fondly by some as "God's Garage." (My opinion? "Satan's Lair." Potato, potahto.) When I quit, I did not give notice, and I was informed that I could not apply for a job with the company for seven years. Shux.

Anyhow, I worked the evening shift, which meant that I shared a computer with the woman who worked there during the day. Her screen saver read:

"Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses."

I changed it to:

"Guys don't make passes at girls with fat asses."

The seating arrangement changed the next day.

The Untold Story of the Little Red Hen: A Story of Love, Lust and Compromise

The Little Red Hen had big plans for her Sunday. She wanted to dress the children, put up the Christmas tree and bake cookies.

When she rose very early, she said to Richard the Rooster, "Who will dress the children?"

"Will you have sex with me?" said the Rooster.

"Not right now," said the Little Red Hen, "I have too much to do."

"Then, not I," said the Rooster, "I have homework to do."

The Little Red Hen was able to dress two of the children, but the third was forced to spend the day hiding her face in her nakedness.

Later that day, the Little Red Hen said,

"Who will decorate the Christmas tree?"

"Will you have sex with me?" said Richard the Rooster.

"Not now," said the Little Red Hen, "I have too much to do."

"Then, not I," said the Rooster, "I have to play Madden."

So the Little Red Hen decorated the Christmas tree all by herself.

Then it came time to make the cookies.

"Who will make the cookies?" said the Little Red Hen.

"Will you have sex with me?" said the Rooster.

"Not now, I'm almost done with my chores," said the Little Red Hen.

"Then not I," said the Rooster. "I'm tired of asking."

"Fine!" said the Little Red Hen, and spent an hour clucking to herself in the kitchen, only to turn around to discover that someone had eaten a cookie!

The Little Red Hen was beside herself in anger.

"Who ate this cookie?" she screeched.

"Not I," said Pedro."

"Not I," said Lexi.

"Not I," hacked Old Man Bailey.

"Not I," said Richard the rooster, wiping chocolate chips from his mouth.

"It was you!" said the Little Red Hen.

***

Hours later, after a long talk about cookies and sex, it was decided between the Rooster and the Hen that never the tween shall meet.

And the next time the Little Red Hen made cookies, she also made cookies ifyaknowwhatimean.