Some more favorites

I love this. I do not know the author, but I belive I found it in www.adeepplace.com

Enjoy

What's It All About

Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone.
It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date,
how many people you've dated,
or if you haven't been with anyone at all.
It isn't about who you have kissed, it's not about sex.
It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have.
Or what kind of car you drive.
Or where you went to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are.
Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on,
or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown.
Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get, how smart you are,
how smart everybody else thinks you are,
or how smart standardized tests say you are.
It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport.
It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper
and seeing who will "accept the written you."
But, life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully.
It's about keeping or betraying trust.
It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon.
It's about what you mean and say, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgments you pass and why.
And who your judgments are spread to.
It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate or love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone. Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life's all about.
~author unknown

Blah Blah Blah

I was feeling generally cruddy today, so I bought a couple new cd's. They are great cd's and if you are a fan of Live or Barenaked Ladies, then you would porbably love these two. They are the newest cd's by both bands (Live --> Birds of Pray; Barenaked Ladies --> Everything to Everyone). They made me feel better anyway.

Hmm...what else. Oh ya, no one at my works gives a rat's ass as to whether anything actually gets done during the day which means i have to do more stuff then normal as I go...grrr...oh well, at least I have the day off tomorrow.

But I am going to go eat some food. I will try to have a more amusing post next time, but right now my brain is fried.

Have a fantacular day until then.

Stupid Blorapope

I hate work...well today anyway. Nothing like teaching me how to use ALL the equipment before you leave me all alone through the supper hour...grr...anyway.

But instead of me going on about how sucky work was, I have a story for you. It's not one of mine, and I do not know who wrote it. So kudos goes out to whose this actually is...I received in an email last halloween, (and decided to post it since it's getting closer to halloween) and I hope you all enjoy it as much as me.

Oh God, Please Don't Eat My Brain!

The scream was caught in my throat as the hideous, green-ooze-dripping monster slowly crawled from the shadows that surrounded my bed. I backed myself against the wall, hoping that I could get beyond its grasp. Madly beating my arms along the wall, seemingly trying to climb it, I hit the light switch. Poof, the monster was gone. Sitting, shaking in the dark, I was finally able to calm down. Slowly I realized that the hideous, green-ooze-dripping monster was really just a small pile of bunched up covers and a large dose of my imagination. That night was the earliest point where I can remember having an overactive imagination.

Earlier that evening, against my mother's advice, I watched some low-grade horror flick on television. The movie was probably one of those seventies movies that had scantily clad young girls being dismembered by some horrible psycho killer that wielded some exotic purveyor of death, such as a meat cleaver or a staple gun. She had said that if I watched the movie, I would have nightmares. If I had only known at the time how right her prediction would be.

When I went to bed, my parents tucked me in, opened all the closet doors, turned on my nightlight, and bade me goodnight. Sitting in the dark, I thought that what my mother had said was false. I thought, “There's no way a psychotic killer could get into my room.” “Especially if he had one of those grass trimmers with a length of chain on the end instead of that flimsy nylon stuff.”

With that, I fell into what I thought would be an uninterrupted night's sleep.

While dreaming of being a member of G.I. Joe, I thought I heard someone speaking to me.

"Hey little boy."

"Who said that?", I exclaimed out loud as my pulse rose to a nearly inhuman rate.

"It's me, the generic psychotic killer. You know, the type that secretly lives under the beds of scared little boys."

"Uh...no, I don't know anything about those type of people.", I said, trying to be coy. I hoped that if I was sneaky enough, that I could trick the evil psychotic killer into thinking that he wasn't really there.

"Silly boy, do you think that your infantile little game will be able to trick me! Not only am I a psychotic killer, but I'm a psychic psychotic killer. Anyhow, that stupid trick wouldn't fool me even if I wasn't psychic. You see, I went to a good community college and got an Associates of Arts degree in Purveying Death."

"Hah! Mr. stupid killer.", I proclaimed triumphantly. "There is no Purveyor of Death degree!"

"O.K., fine! You got me. I'm just a pile of covers sitting by a drafty window."

"Ha! I knew that all along.", I said as I finally fell asleep.

After sleeping pleasantly for several hours, I suddenly awoke with a start. "Is there anyone there?"

"Oh, just me."

"Who's that?", I asked, hoping that it wasn't another psychotic killer.
"Don't worry, it's not another killer. Just one of his gory puss-dripping victims."

"Do you mind not being so graphic.", I asked. "I'm going to have to eat breakfast in a couple hours and if you keep talking like that, I'm not going to be able to eat."

"Do you think that I like looking like this? Not only am I dead, but my hair's a mess and I broke a nail! Contrary to popular belief, being dead is not the easiest thing in the world to do."

"Sorry.", I said. "I didn't know. Oh, by the way. Are you actually there? Because if you are, you're probably making a mess on my carpet."

"Nope. I'm not here, I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"Thank God! Now maybe I can get some sleep.", I said as I drifted off in what was going to be a rather restful night of sleep.

Thinking back, that night of horrors was either the beginning of my career of creativity, or the spark that lit the bonfire of my imagination that makes the cold reality of life so much easier to bear. Even though that night was quite frightening, I think I awoke the next morning quite refreshed. Well, a child in the dark with an overactive imagination often produces interesting
results.

By: I have no idea, but I definately deem this post worthy and kudos to who ever wrote it.

Beer Trees
I was watching an episode of Simpson's that I taped a while back and there was a commercial for Molson Canadian where this guy goes out into his backyard and draws beer from a tap on his tree.
I started thinking...wouldn't that be cool, if we had trees that were filled with beer. Then I also thought about the squirrels and how they'd end up being drunk all the time because there acornswould be floating in the beer and absorbing the alcohol and how it would lead to complete disorder and chaos in the squirrel world. They'd start attacking tourists, hurling nuts at them and causing wide spread tree damage with twig fights among other unimaginable consequences.
Then I also thought about how you would get the beer into the tree in the first place. Maybe there's like beer bees out there that make beer honey, which I suppose would then mean that there would be drunk bears out there. That might be even scarier than a drunk squirrel. It would lead to massive drowning in the bear fishing world and perhaps territorial fights between the squirrels (who would probably think that they are five times the size they are) and the bears who are after the same trees.
In general, this whole concept of a beer tree, even though interesting, would lead to mass disruptions in nature and completely destroyed the cute cuddly image of the squirrel and bear species. It would be disaster I tell you, disaster :O

Hello all! Now that you have stumbled into my corner of the world, I hope you enjoy your stay. More than likely you are bound to find stories about my work, school, crazy cat or other musing of mine that come to my often sleep-deprived head. I will try to update this as often as possible and provide you with amusement to the best I know how. After all, that is why I am here...hehe
For now, I close with the following statement: "There is no snooze button on a cat that wants breakfast" (This is true...mine turns on my alarm clock or pokes me in the eye when she wants food and won't desist until I get up)