Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Do not stand on my grave and weep
I am not there I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am a gentle Autumns rain
When you awaken in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
I am the birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
So do not stand on my grave and cry
I am not there.... I did not die



R.I.P Bob... safe travels

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Sharing the Filth! because you know I love you...

Ain't nuttin' new under the sun...
certainly nothing the Middle Ages and the chaste mind of a monk hasn't thought of already.

FILTH!! Bestiality!!! and general wtf? => THIS WAY


many thanks to hobnobofjoy !

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Props to RandomFerret!





Let’s recap...


- My laptop just stopped working. Right in the middle of a bubble blasting game there appeared the blue screen of death and an error message; perhaps I exceeded the international maximum bubble destruction quota....


- Why do error messages have numbers instead of names?


o Error message 99849865673876346azh means nothing... and is therefore incredibly unhelpful.


o Your computer has shut down to protect the hard drive because the mother board has detected that you have exceeded the international maximum bubble destruction quota; no sudden moves - The police will be there soon! <= this is useful.


- NEVER clean out the storage room with your significant other. For some reason their keepsakes and important and potential useful things to store stuff are always more important than yours which (obviously) should have been turfed years ago


o Ditto for the garage.


- This weekend was the long Victoria Day Weekend... wherein we celebrate Queen Victoria’s Birthday by setting off fireworks, having BBQs and generally having way more fun than Queen Victoria is having because she’s dead.


o It’s the “unofficial” start summer when people flock to cottage country, and start gardening and planting. Unfortunately we had frost Saturday and Sunday morning... chilly, very chilly.





I thought this was amusing...


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v66/Niennaainur/Blather/nb3e3.png

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Let me see if I understand this all....

Cheerios Are a Drug?

and

Dogs need sex toys?


The world is definitely weirder than it was this morning...

Friday, May 08, 2009

Thursday, May 07, 2009

A New Perspective...

My friend Dan has a blog called


He is gradually transcribing his Great-Grandfather's Diaries from World War I.

A wonderful read!

Check it out!

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

and then we noticed

with apologies to Scott & Pope...


Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive



But when we've practiced for a while,
How vastly we improve our style! *







what a load of crap!
*Truth! but it just make the fall from grace much more spectacular... *snort*

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

kudos for ingenuity?

or a slap in the head for a waste of good chocolate?

You decide: Chocolate powered race car

Friday, May 01, 2009

Oh sweet sardonical word play….

... it was once said "a black man would be president when pigs fly".
Now, 100 days into Obama's presidency....
Swine Flu
=^D

Beltaine Blessings!

Cup Of Wonder
J. Tull, Songs from the Wood

May I make my fond excuses
for the lateness of the hour,
but we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane's flower.
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed the song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
Question all as to their ways,
and learn the secrets that they hold.
Walk the lines of nature's palm
crossed with silver and with gold.
Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

Join in black December's sadness,
lie in August's welcome corn.
Stir the cup that's ever-filling
with the blood of all that's born.
But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed this song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.