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Sunday, 24 April 2005
New Teacher Orientation
Mood:  a-ok
New Teacher Orientation

After being interviewed by the school administration, the eager teaching prospect said,

"Let me see if I've got this right. You want me to go into that room with all those kids, and

fill their every waking moment with a love for learning. And I'm supposed to instill a sense

of pride in their ethnicity, modify their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of

abuse and even censor their t-shirt messages and dress habits. You want me to wage a

war on drugs and sexually transmitted diseases, check their backpacks for weapons of

mass destruction, and raise their self esteem.. You want me to teach them patriotism,

good citizenship, sportsmanship, fair play, how to register to vote, how to balance a

checkbook, and how to apply for a job. I am to check their heads for lice, maintain a safe

environment, recognize signs of anti-social behavior, offer advice, write letters of

recommendation for student employment and scholarships, encourage respect for the

cultural diversity of others, and oh, make sure that I give the girls in my class fifty percent

of my attention! My contract requires me to work on my own time after school, evenings

and weekends grading papers. Also, I must spend my summer vacation, at my own

expense, working toward advance certification and a Masters degree. And on my own

time you want me to attend committee and faculty meetings, PTA meetings, and

participate in staff development training. I am to be a paragon of virtue, larger than life,

such that my very presence will awe my students into being obedient and respectful of

authority. You want me to incorporate technology into the learning experience, monitor

web sites, and relate personally with each student. That includes deciding who might be

potentially dangerous and/or liable to commit a crime in school. I am to make sure all

students pass the mandatory state exams, even those who don't come to school

regularly or complete any of their assignments. Plus, I am to make sure that all of the

students with handicaps get an equal education regardless of the extent of their mental

or physical handicap. And I am to communicate regularly with the parents by letter,

telephone, newsletter and report card. All of this I am to do with just a piece of chalk, a

computer, a few books, a bulletin board, a big smile AND on a starting salary that

qualifies my family for food stamps!

You want me to do all of this and yet you expect me......

NOT TO PRAY?

Posted by Lika97 at 6:07 AM
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Friday, 15 April 2005
Nail In The Fence
Mood:  energetic
>Subject: Nail in the Fence
>
>Make sure you read all the way down to the last sentence. (Most importantly
the last sentence)

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His Father gave him a bag of
nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail
into the back of the fence.
>
>
>
>The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few
weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily
gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to
drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose
his temper at all.
>
>
>
He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy nowpull out
one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and
the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
>
>
>
The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You
have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never
be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one.
You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you
say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. " A verbal wound is as bad as a
physical one. Friends are very rare jewels, indeed. They make you smile and
encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share words of praise and they
always want to open their hearts to us."

Posted by Lika97 at 10:14 AM
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Saturday, 9 April 2005
Reminder
Mood:  chillin'
[From my Email files]

This is an excellent reminder.

My father-in-law retired as a microbiologist from Stanford University Hospital. He is absolutely paranoid of microbes because he's seen what they can do to an otherwise healthy person. My wife is not the most organized person, not putting things back where they belong ( like my tools!). But she is also extremely cautious in washing vegetables, constantly washing her hands, putting things back in the refrigerator right away, covering left-overs and so forth.

Since we got married, I don't get sick with flu or colds like I did before. I also find myself washing my hands time after time, especially after being out shaking hands with others or touching things I know others have touched.

For example, you go to a restaurant where some of your choice is finger-food like french fries. You reach for the salt container and give them a sprinkle, then you chow down. You just infected yourself with boogers everyone else who used the salt shaker had on their hands before. I use a napkin to handle all those condiment containers, from ketchup to A-1 steak sauce. Public phones are a nightmare for bacteria and viruses. So are door handles and especially those bathroom doors you have to pull back to exit after you've washed your hands. You just re-infected yourself with every kind of bug the last 100 guys had on their hands when they didn't wash afterward. Food for thought. If you don't want to get sick, start paying attention to everything you handle, and wash your hands! Use a paper towel to exit those bathrooms with the door that opens in. If they don't have a waste basket close by, drop it on the floor as you exit.

This is another reminder. When you grab that soda or beer can, what was stomping all over it and taking a leak on it before it got to you?

Posted by Lika97 at 2:37 PM
Updated: Saturday, 9 April 2005 2:39 PM
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Tuesday, 5 April 2005
The Rose
Mood:  hug me
[From my Email files]

THE ROSE

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.




She said, "Hi handsome. My name is Rose.

I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?"

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and she gave me a giant sque! eze.

"Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I asked.




She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids..."

"No serio! usly," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

"I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!" she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.

We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "time machine" as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went.

She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.

At! the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet.

I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by ! five cards on the floor.

Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, "I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this
whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know."

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, "We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.

There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.

We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!

There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.

If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.

Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.

The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with
regrets."

She concluded her speech by courageously singing "The Rose."

She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives.

At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.

One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you can possibly be.

When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they'll really enjoy it!

These words have been p! assed along in loving memory of ROSE.

REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL.
We make a Living by what we get, We make a Life by what we give.

God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He ! will bring you through it.

Pass this message to 7 people except you and me. You will receive a miracle tomorrow

If you choose not, then you refuse to bless someone else.

"Good friends are like stars.........You don't always see them, but you know they are always there."

Posted by Lika97 at 3:31 AM
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Sunday, 27 March 2005
The Smell of God
Mood:  a-ok
> >The Smell of God
> >
> >
> >A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the
> >doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was
> >still groggy from surgery. Her husband, David, held her hand as they
> >braced themselves for the latest news. That afternoon of March 10, 1991,
> >complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an
> >emergency Caesarian to deliver the couple's new daughter, Dana Lu
> >Blessing. At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces,
> >they already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft
> >words dropped like bombs. "I don't think she's going to make it," he
> >said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10-percent chance she will
> >live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does
> >make it, her future could be a very cruel one." Numb with disbelief,
> >David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating
> >problems Dana would likely face if she survived. She would never walk,
> >she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would
> >certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy
> >to complete mental retardation, and on and on. "No! No!" was all Diana
> >could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long
> >dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of
> >four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.
> >
> >But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana.
> >Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw,' the
> >lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they
> >couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer
> >the strength of their love. All they could do, as Dana struggled alone
> >beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to
> >pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl. There was
> >never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But as the weeks went
> >by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength
> >there. At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able
> >to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later,
> >though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of
> >surviving, much less living any kind of normal life were next to zero,
> >Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
> >
> >Five years later, when Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with
> >glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She showed no
> >signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was
> >everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far
> >from the end of her story. One blistering afternoon in the summer of
> >1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's
> >lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's
> >baseball team was practicing. As always, Dana was chattering nonstop
> >with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she
> >suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana
> >asked, "Do you smell that?" Smelling the air and detecting the approach
> >of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain." Dana
> >closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?" Once again, her
> >mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like
> >rain." Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin
> >shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like
> >Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest." Tears
> >blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other
> >children. Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what
> >Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at
> >least in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of
> >her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for
> >them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His
> >loving scent that she remembers so well.
> >
> >You now have 1 of 2 choices. You can either pass this on and let other
> >people catch the chills like you did, or you can delete this and act
> >like it didn't touch your heart like it did mine.
> > > >
> > > > IT'S YOUR CALL! "I can do all things in Him who strengthens me."
> >(Phil.4:13)
> > >

Posted by Lika97 at 6:13 AM
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Friday, 25 March 2005
Dog or Hen
Mood:  loud
Subject: Dog or Hen



Tom did like he always does, kissing his wife, crawling into
bed and falling to sleep. All of a sudden, he wakes up with
an elderly man dressed in a white robe standing in front of
his bed.
"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?...and who are
you?" he asked.
"This is not your bedroom," the man replied, "I am St. Peter,
and you are in heaven."
"WHAT! Are you saying I'm dead? I don't want to die! I'm too
young," said Tom. "I want you to send me back immediately."
"It's not that easy", said St.Peter. "You can only return as
a dog or a hen. The choice is your own."
Tom thought about it for a while, and figured out that being
a dog is too tiring, but a hen probably has a nice and
relaxed life. Running around with a rooster can't be that bad.
"I want to return as a hen," Tom replied.
And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run,
really nicely feathered. But now he felt like his rear end
was gonna blow. Then along came the rooster.
"Hey, you must be the new hen St. Peter told me about," he
said. "How do you like being a hen?"
"Well, OK I guess, but it feels like my ass is about to
explode."
"Oh that!" said the rooster. "That's only the ovulation going
on. You need to lay an egg."
"How do I do that?" Tom asked.
"Cluck twice, and then you push all you can."
Tom clucked twice and pushed more than he was good for, and
then 'plop' an egg was on the ground.
"Wow" Tom said. "That felt really good!" So he clucked again
and squeezed. And you better believe that there was yet
another egg on the ground.

The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shout:
"Tom, for Christ's sake! Wake up! You're shittin' all over the bed!"

Posted by Lika97 at 5:40 AM
Updated: Friday, 25 March 2005 5:44 AM
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Blue Ribbon
Mood:  hug me
[From my Email files]

The Blue Ribbon!

A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in high school by telling them the difference they each made. She called each student to the front of the class, one at a time. First she told each of them how they had made a difference to her and the class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon imprinted with gold letters, which read, "Who I Am Makes a Difference."

Afterwards the teacher decided to do a class project to see what kind of impact recognition would have on a community. She gave each of the students three more ribbons and instructed them to go out and spread this acknowledgment ceremony. Then they were to follow up on the results, see who honored whom and report back to the class in about a week.

One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby company and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a blue ribbon and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons and said, "We're doing a class project on recognition, and we'd like you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, then give them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a third person to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell me what happened.

Later that day the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would accept the gift of the blue ribbon and would he give him permission to put it on him. His surprised boss said, "Well, sure." The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss's jacket above his heart.

As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, "Would you do me a favor? Would you take this extra one and pass it on by honoring somebody else. The young boy who first gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school and we want to keep this recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people." That night the boss came home to his 14-year-old son and sat him down. He said, "The most incredible thing happened to me today I was in my office and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine. He thinks I'm a creative genius. Then he put this blue ribbon that says "Who I Am Makes a Difference" on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honor you. My days are really hectic and when I come home I don't pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good enough grades in school and for your bedroom being a mess, but somehow tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most important person in my life. You're a great kid and I love you!"

The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he wouldn't stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, "Dad, earlier tonight I sat in my room and wrote a letter to you and Mom explaining why I had killed myself and asking you to forgive me. I was going to commit suicide tonight after you were asleep. I just didn't think that you cared at all. The letter is upstairs. I don't think I need it after all." His father walked upstairs and found a heartfelt letter full of anguish and pain. The envelope was addressed, "Mom and Dad." The boss went back to work a changed man. He was no longer a grouch, but made sure to let all his employees know that they made a difference.

The junior executive helped several other young people with career planning and never forgot to let them know that they made a difference in his life...one being the boss's son. And the young boy and his classmates learned a valuable lesson.

Who you are DOES make a difference. You are under no obligation to send this on to anyone. As far as I am concerned, you can delete it and move onto the next message. If you want, you can send it to all of the people who mean something to you, or send it to the one, two, or three people who mean the most. Or just smile and know that someone thinks that you are important, or you wouldn't have received this in the first place. Remember that!

I gave you a blue ribbon. The best vitamin for making friends....B1

Posted by Lika97 at 4:52 AM
Updated: Friday, 25 March 2005 4:57 AM
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Monday, 14 March 2005
Retro Man (aka Old School)
Mood:  happy
[from my email files]

Please allow me to vent. I have had it. I've taken all I can stand and I can't stand no more. Every time my TV is on, all that can be seen is effeminate men prancing about, redecorating houses and talking about foreign concepts like "style" and "feng shui." Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, transsexual, metrosexual, non-sexual; blue, green, and purple-sexual - bogus definitions have taken over the urban and suburban world!

Real men of the world, stand up, scratch your butt, belch, and yell "ENOUGH!" I hereby announce the start of a new offensive in the culture Wars, the Retrosexual movement. "

The Code :

A Retrosexual man, no matter what the women insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.

A Retrosexual man opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that fit that term only because they are female.

A Retrosexual DEALS with IT, be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.

A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.

A Retrosexual doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still smoking cigars and drinking, I salute you. If you are still having sex, you are a God.

A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly 2 endcaps if you include shaving goods.)

A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he's 30 years old.

A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff
(or people) if need be. This falls under the "Dealing with IT" portion of The Code.

A Retrosexual watches no TV show with "Queer" in the title.

A Retrosexual does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national TV.

A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women. Some is inevitable, but major reinvention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a froo-froo little puss, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.

A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak treechipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city, favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT. When you screwed up, he DEALT with you.

A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.

A Retrosexual knows how to tie a Windsor knot when wearing a tie -- and ONLY a Windsor knot.

A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about getting.

A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a nail, or drill a straight hole, practice in secret until you can -- or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.

A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that your are riddled with fear, guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus it's just plain fun to fire one off in the direction of those people or things that just need a little "wakin' up".

Crying. There are very few reason that a Retrosexual may cry, and none of them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a pet (fish do NOT count as pets in this case), loss of a major body part, or loss of major body part on your Ford truck.

When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a pregnant woman, heck, any woman gets on, that retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men still in their seats with a disgusted "you punks" look on his face.

A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled Banner

A Retrosexual will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married/engaged or in a serious healthy relationship - i.e., hunting, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance.

A Retrosexual knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.

A Retrosexual man can drive in snow (hell, a blizzard) without sliding all over or driving under 20mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering his ride in a snow bank.

A Retrosexual man can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants. Wherever it lands is where he damn well wanted it to land. Except on his truck--that would happen because of a "force of nature", and then the retrosexual man's options are to Cry, or to DEAL with IT, or do both.

A Retrosexual will give up his seat on a bus to not only any women but any elderly person or person in military dress (except 2nd Lt's) NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for serving their country.

A Retrosexual man doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other person deceived him.

A Retrosexual man doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT !

Posted by Lika97 at 9:24 AM
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Sunday, 13 March 2005
3rd Grade
Mood:  happy
[From my email files]

3rd Grade

A first-grade teacher was having trouble with one of her students. The
teacher asked, "Little Johnny, what is your problem?"

Little Johnny answered, "I'm too smart for the first-grade. My sister is in
the third-grade and I'm smarter than she is! I think I should be in the
third-grade too!"

The teacher had enough. She took Little Johnny to the principal's office.
While Little Johnny waited in the outer office, the teacher explained to
the principal what the situation was. The principal told the teacher he
would give the boy a test and if he failed to answer any of his questions
he was to go back to the first-grade and behave. The teacher agreed.

Little Johnny was brought in and the conditions were explained to him and
he agreed to take the test.

Principal: "What is 3 x 3?"

Little Johnny: "9"

Principal: "What is 6 x 6?"

Little Johnny: "36"

And so it went with every question the principal thought a third-grade
should know. The principal looks at the teacher and tells her, "I think
Little Johnny can go to the third-grade."

The teacher says to the principal, "Let me ask him some questions?" The
principal and Little Johnny both agree.

Teacher: "What does a cow have four of that I have only two of?

Little Johnny: "Legs"

Teacher: "What is in your pants that you have but I do not have?" (The
principal wondered, why does she ask such a question!)

Little Johnny: "Pockets"

Teacher: "What does a dog do that a man steps into?"

Little Johnny: "Pants"

Teacher: "What's starts with a C and ends with a T, is hairy, oval,
delicious and contains thin whitish liquid?" (The principal's eyes open
really wide and before he could stop the answer...)

Little Johnny: "Coconut"

Teacher: "What goes in hard and pink then comes out soft and sticky?"

Little Johnny: "Bubblegum"

Teacher: "What does a man do standing up, a woman do sitting down and a dog
do on three legs?" (The principal's eyes open really wide and before he
could stop the answer...)

Little Johnny: "Shake hands"

Teacher: "Now I will ask some 'Who am I' sort of questions, okay?"

Little Johnny: "Yup"

Teacher: "You blow me, you feel good"

Little Johnny: "Nose"

Teacher: "I have a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates. I come with a quiver."

Little Johnny: "Arrow"

Teacher: "What word starts with an 'F' and ends in 'K' that means a lot of
exitement?"

Little Johnny: "Firetruck"

The principal breathed a sigh of relief and told the teacher, "Put his butt
in the fifth-grade, I got the last ten questions wrong myself."

Posted by Lika97 at 5:03 AM
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Saturday, 12 March 2005
To the Keepers In My Life
___
.. _____/ /\____
,? ? o`?,/__/ _/\_ //____/\
```) ( | | | | | | | || |l????
,.-??? ,.-?~?~?-., `???-. :??
One day someone's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the
warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that
sometimes there isn't any more. No more hugs, no more special moments to
celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just a
minute." Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes
away...never to return before we can say good-bye, say "I love you."
___
.. _____/ /\____
,? ? o`?,/__/ _/\_ //____/\
```) ( | | | | | | | || |l????
,.-??? ,.-?~?~?-., `???-. :??
So while we have it... it's best we love it...and care for it and fix it
when it's broken...and heal it when it's sick. This is true for
marriage...and old cars...and children with bad report cards and dogs with
bad hips and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are
worth it, because we are worth it.
... _____/ /\____
,? ? o`?,/__/ _/\_ //____/\
```) ( | | | | | | | || |l????
,.-??? ,.-?~?~?-., `???-. :??
Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a classmate we
grew up with. There are just some things that make us happy, no matter
what.
... _____/ /\____
,? ? o`?,/__/ _/\_ //____/\
```) ( | | | | | | | || |l????
,.-??? ,.-?~?~?-., `???-. :??
Life is important, like people we know who are special... and so we keep
them close!
... _____/ /\____
,? ? o`?,/__/ _/\_ //____/\
```) ( | | | | | | | || |l????
,.-??? ,.-?~?~?-., `???-. :??
I received this from someone who thought I was a 'keeper'! Then I sent it to
the people I think of in the same way. Now it's your
turn to send this to those people who are "keepers" in your life.

Posted by Lika97 at 5:40 PM
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