Long Weekend Audio: You've Got Questions? We've Got Babble.

This will be the last audio of the night. It would have been up sooner but...well...I got distracted.

We started off talking about the whole underline/underscore thing. Ro had said that Voiceover says "underline" still, and then Steve said that JAWS says underline too. More and more weirdness.

We decided that would be the last audio of the night. Poor Steve had been awake since 4:30 because he knew that I had to wake up early, so his body woke him up a couple hours before. Apparently, it likes to do that. I don't know about that sort of thing...as I've slept so heavy that my snore sounded like a broken fridge motor. The thunderworks were in full effect, so Trix was busily shaking away. So we decided to start answering questions people have been sending us. We explained again that we probably aren't going to do all the mailbag stuff in one go...because it just wouldn't work.

We started with Amanda's question about whether Steve has had any tape/nipple accidents lately. He said no, but he's sure it might happen again. He talked about how he must suffer for his art...which led to the question of whether nude portraits of Stephen Harper, ordinary-looking wooden benches, or toilets should be considered art.

Since we thought we'd rambled long enough about that, we decided to answer James's question about whether we miss Echo or Blogger yet...which is kind of funny since this post is getting posted to Blogger too. James, you wanted rage? You got it. Here it is in written form. We got to talk about how much more Wordpress allows us to do compared to Blogger, and how Wordpress search kicks Google Blogsearch's ass from here to China. As soon as we can find a daily email-sending thinggy, it'll be curtains for the Blogger version.

Other things mentioned in this section included that disturbing comment by someone named Hardon Ricky, and Weird Al's The Good Old Days. So yeah, James, I think you got your answer...loud and clear.

Finally, Ro asked us the condition of the talking beer koozy. In this earlier cast, it was going downhill. Well...the news isn't good. You can hear just how much poor old Joe has to say.

I don't know why, but every cast appears to have a Tugboat reference in it. Hope you don't hate us for that.

For this 42 minutes of goodness, grab it from here. Hopefully we can squeeze out some more audio tomorrow, and at least try and answer more questions.

Long Weekend Audio: I Like Traffic Lights...

Thank Monty Python for the title.

Well! Aren't we the audio crankin' machines? We decided this one would have a different twist on it. We decided to take you, the loyal vomiteers, on a walk with us. We'd never done this before...and it kinda showed in the audio quality. Most of it is pretty listenable, but there are some parts where...ow ow ow ow ow! Stream+need to raise voice over traffic=clip clip clip clip! So...do not listen on headphones, I don't think so. We'll do better next time...namely, place Stream on left shoulder. By the way, Shane? How did you carry your stream on your routecasts? I need pointers. I tested it before leaving and it sounded fine. I forgot the part where I need to raise my voice to be heard over the traffic din.

We decided to demo an audible pedestrian signal, or the blind guy chirp chirp lights as lots of people know them. We thought we'd clear up some confusion, as well as show the differences between two types of chirp chirp lights. We also thought we'd drop into Tim Hortons just because it's nearby, and pick up a couple things at the store on the way home. We turned the recording off when we were in the store just because really? do you want to hear "I'll have a smoothie. Yes debit. chinga linga loo, thank you!"? That's boring.

We split this bad boy into two smaller parts. There's part 1, the trip to Timmie's, description of the lights and how blind people cross streets, talk about the new Tim Hortons bigger drink sizes, and other babble. You don't hear it, but Trix got called a cute dog by some random passer by. As we arrive at Tim Hortons, Steve asks again what constitutes a yogourtless smoothie? It has been written, but we felt like talking about it. That bit is about 23 minutes long.

In part 2, which lasts about 25 minutes, on our way home, we talked about how poor Steve got hit with a giant allergy attack, how we didn't get to ask what a yogourtless smoothie would look like, and how Steve thinks ice caps are disgusting. I happen to like them, but he thinks they're ick. This made us decide we would do our questions not as one cast, but as the mood struck us to talk...and it was time to talk about the differents between Canadian and American iced tea. And, since we were answering that question, we went in to the whole milk in a bag thing.

Because you can find everything on the internet, here's a history lesson on the milk bag, and a video explaining how to drink milk from a bag. The video isn't too blindy friendly, but it basically echos the description that we gave in the cast. I just thought it was funny that someone made a video about this.

I have also learned something. This milk in a bag thing only starts in Ontario and moves east. Westerners get mad if you accuse them of drinking milk in a bag. In describing the different sizes of milk cartons, I start singing Good Luck to the Barleymow. Now you can enjoy a much better version.

As we walk down the street yammering about milk bags, I have a question for folks who live in the UK that came up. I was talking to Torie on Twitter, and somehow crossing streets came up, and she said that over there, they have to wait for an all quiet, cross at a zebra crossing, hit a beep beep light, or wait for assistance. The idea of walking with the parallel traffic is not safe. Is this true across all of Ireland? Can other blind folks explain this? Frankly, the idea of not being able to go with the surge is about as weird to me as Americans find buying milk in a bag.

And we arrived home with our stuff, Trix drank furiously, and we signed off.

So, I hope you can enjoy this clippy cast. I apologize again for that. Hopefully we can learn and do better.

I've Been Poisoned By A Sub, So Here Are A Few Jokes To Save Me Doing Anything Difficult

To get you ready for Christmas, here are a few jokes that have nothing to do with Christmas. Thanks to everybody who sends these to me and to me for finding the ones you don't send. I promise I'll get better at posting these...for real this time.

*Just asked a Scottish friend of mine how many sexual partners he's had. Bizarrely, he started counting and fell asleep.

*When my wife was expecting our first child, a friend asked me what I hoped it would be. "Mine," I said.

*A married couple had been out shopping at the mall for most of the afternoon.

Suddenly, the wife realized that her husband had "disappeared".

The somewhat irate spouse called her mate's cell phone and demanded: "Where the hell are you?"

Husband: "Darling, you remember that Jewellery shop where you saw the diamond necklace and totally fell in love with it and I didn't have money that time and said, 'Baby, it'll be yours one day'?"

Wife, with a smile, blushing: "Yes I remember that, my love."

Husband, "Well, I'm in the Pub next to that shop."

*Went to a nice, local restaurant/bar with my girlfriend last night. But the regulars were shouting "pedophile!" and other terrible names at me, just because my girlfriend is 21 and I'm 50.

It completely spoiled our 10th anniversary.

*When I was a kid, I got a pocketknife for Christmas. I then used it to open up all my other gifts. Still a shame about the puppy...

*The job application I was filling out asked "have you ever been convicted of a crime?" followed by "explain why." I wrote down "no" and "good lawyers".

*My son was thrown out of school today for letting a girl in his class give him a hand-job. I said "Son, that's 3 schools this year! You'd better stop before you're banned from teaching altogether."

*A man comes into a bar...no wait, it was a horse. So, a man comes into a horse...

Arriving In Heaven

It's been a while since i've posted one and I know how much some of you like these, so here's a Steve's mom joke to start your day.

All arrivals in heaven go through a bureaucratic examination to determine whether admission will be granted. One room has a clerk who records each applicant's fatal activities on his or her last day of life.

The first applicant of the day explains that his last day was not a good one.

"I came home early and found my wife lying naked in bed. She claimed she had just gotten out of the shower. Well, her hair was dry and I checked the shower and it was completely dry too. I knew she was into some hanky-panky and I began to look for her lover. I went onto the balcony of our 9th floor apartment and found the SOB clinging to the rail by his fingertips. I was so angry that I began bashing his fingers with a flower pot. He let go and fell, but his fall was broken by some awnings and bushes. On seeing he was still alive I found super human strength to drag our antique cedar chest to the balcony and throw it over. It hit the man and killed him. At this point the stress got to me and I suffered a massive heart attack and died.

The clerk thanked him and sent him on.

The second applicant said that his last day was his worst ever.

"I was on the roof of an apartment building working on the AC equipment. I stumbled over my tools and toppled off the building. I managed to grab onto the balcony rail of a 9th floor apartment but some idiot came rushing out on the balcony and bashed my hands with a flower pot. I fell but hit some awnings and bushes and survived, but as I looked up I saw a huge chest falling toward me. I tried to crawl out of the way but failed and was hit and killed by the chest."

The clerk couldn't help but chuckle as he directed the man on.

The clerk is still smiling when his third customer of the day enters. He apologizes and says, "I doubt your last day was as interesting as the fellow in here just before you."

"I don't know," replies the man. "picture this... I'm buck naked hiding in this cedar chest....."

Funeral Arrangements

While my parents were making their funeral arrangements, the cemetery salesman pointed out a plot that he thought they would like.

"You'll have a beautiful view of the swan pond," he assured them.

Dad wasn't sold: "Unless you're including a periscope with my casket, I don't know how I'm going to enjoy it."

A New Goalball League For Toronto

This was sent my way by our old friend Matt. It sounds like a really good opportunity for people to learn goalball or get another chance to play the game. I hope lots of people take advantage of it.

The Ontario Blind Sports Association (OBSA) in partnership with the City of Toronto is proud to offer a recreational goalball league through the City of Toronto Parks and Recreation.

This league will run once a week for the duration of 8 weeks during the City of Toronto's, Fall/Winter Seasson.

People of all ages and all visual abilities are welcome. During these sessions, participants will learn the rules of the game and drills to help improve their game and endurance and of course, play full games.

All equipment will be provided and this amazing opportunity is free of charge!

The first try-it session is Thursday, September 8th from 7:00 p.m. - 8:30 p.m. at Mitchell Field Community Center, which is located at 89 Church Avenue M2N 6C9 (close to Finch Station). 

Can't wait to see everyone there! 

If you have any questions, please contact the office at (416) 426-7191

Austin Lounge Lizards Questions Answered. Yea!

Woohoo, some questions I had about the Austin Lounge Lizards in this post have been answered in the comment below! Thank you, Marchbanks, for all the cool answers.

Lessee if a native can clear up a few points for you . . . (2) Yes, that's really Cornhusker Refugee. Somebody keeps using a bad scan and not proofreading. (4) No, you got it—Wendell is a 7-Up delivery guy who gets shot for being stupid enough to go in without enough experience to back up his firepower. (7) Yes, there is one place in Texas they like: Austin, where they all live (or did, until Tom moved to North Carolina in 2011). That doesn't keep them from poking fun at Austin, too. (12) Yes, Virginia, there is a Chester Nimitz Oriental Garden in Fredericksburg. It's attached to the Nimitz Museum there, and was given (I believe) by the people of Japan as a gesture of reconciliation. Fredericksburg is largely a German town, so having this song in classic oom-pah-pah style is sooooo appropriate.

Cool! And now I want to listen to the album again.

Termite

I just tweeted this, but I figure while I wait for everyone to unfollow me I might as well kill off the rest of the readership.

After a long day of work, a termite walks into a saloon and asks the person behind the counter, "Is the bar tender here?"

Text Message Shorthand For The Elderly

I got a chuckle out of some of these, and I'm sure they'll come in handy for a few of you.

We've all seen the texting shortcuts used by kids -- LOL (Laughing Out Loud), CUL8R (See You Later), etc. It's time older folks got in on the action -- yet our daily concerns are different from youngsters'.

With that, expect to start seeing these shortcuts from your older friends:

ATD - At The Doctor's

BFF - Best Friend Fell

BTW - Bring The Wheelchair

BYOT - Bring Your Own Teeth

FWIW - Forgot Where I Was

GGPBL - Gotta Go, Pacemaker Battery Low

GHA - Got Heartburn Again

IMHO - Is My Hearing Aid On?

LMDO - Laughing My Dentures Out

OMMR - On My Massage Recliner

OMSG - Oh My! Sorry, Gas

ROFLACGU - Rolling On Floor Laughing And Can't Get Up

and...

TTYL - Talk To You Louder

British Burgers

All hatemail resulting from this should be aimed squarely at Brad.

A husband and wife go to a restaurant. The waiter approaches the table to take their order.

"I'll have your biggest, juiciest London Broil," says the husband.

"But sir, what about the mad cow!?" asks the waiter.

"Oh," says the husband, "she'll order for herself."

How Much Is That Doggie On The Street Corner

Brad sent this. It's 100% true. Carin and I have had a lot of strange things happen to us out in the world, but never this.

He also says that the story is much better in person, and I agree. It's hard to do things like this justice in writing, but he did fine and it's still pretty amusing.

Here we go again with the weirdness that is a part of so many of my days.

I was walking home last Friday from work, and a guy came up to me and asked me if I wanted a Shih Tzu.

While I was trying to figure out why on earth someone would want to give away a dog on the road to a person they don’t know from Adam, he proceeded to inform me that the dog’s name was Bubbah, he is 8 years old, not fixed, and he has only been bitten by him three times.

Naturally, the first thing I say is, so, he was broken once then? It took a minute, but he did get it. I told him that I didn’t want his dog, but thanks anyway, and I went home.

I haven’t seen either of them again, so I don’t know what became of good ‘ole Bubbah. Did he stay, or did he go?

Angry Squirrel

I got this emailed to me the other day, and I couldn't stop laughing. In explaining it to Steve, I just couldn't do it justice. I still can't decide if the reason for all the laughing was because it was that funny or because I was still recovering from some weird flu and was way too easily amused.

Angry squirrel

I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect.

I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!"

The leap was nothing short of spectacular... He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque.

This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in . well .. I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle...my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ... so to speak.

Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car. I heard screams. They weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really... Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing.

The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car but it was all his.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.

Photo Op

As much as I'd like to take credit for it, this one's not my fault. Blame Brad.

Got a phone call from a mate last night. He had just got back from a trip to London, and told me that whilst there he'd acquired a brand new top-of-the-range camera absolutely free.

I asked, "Where did you get that?"

He said, "I met a very nice family from Japan whilst I was in Trafalgar Square, and was just passing the time of day with them. After a few minutes I was about to go when they asked me if I would mind taking a photograph of them, and handed me a camera. They lined up as a group against one of the lions and were all smiling at the camera. Just as I was about to click the button I shouted to them, 'WAVE!', and they all rushed past me and I never saw them again."

Thanks, I Think

Spam comments are great sometimes. For example...

Suitable blog! I honestly love how it' s effortless on my eyes and the facts are pretentiously written. I am wondering how I can be notified whenever a novel list inform has been made. I organize subscribed to your rss provide for which should do the trick! Possess a nice day!

Thank you friend. It's nice to see someone appreciating that which is pretentiously written for a change.

Possess a nice day, everyone!

A Few Jokes From The Old Inbox

Enough of this election stuff for now, le'ts offend some people!

*In a local sports bar trivia quiz the other night, I lost by one point. The question was name two things commonly found in cells. It appears that Mexicans and African Americans is not the correct answer.

*I've heard that Apple has scrapped their plans for the new children's-oriented iPod after realizing that iTouch Kids is not a good product name.

*A new Muslim clothing shop opened here, but I've been banned from it after asking to look at some bomber jackets.

*You can say lots of bad things about pedophiles, but at least they drive slowly past schools.

*The red cross knocked at my door asking if I could help towards the floods in Pakistan. I said I would love to, but my hose only reaches to the bottom of my driveway.

Another Satisfied Customer

the subject of bad voting experiences for those with disabilities has come up before, and it's about to come up again.

Brad went out and voted yesterday like you all should have, and as happens so many times when you've got something the matter with your eyes or anything else, it didn't go well. Nobody argued with him over what Braille is, but this is still completely unacceptable and should not be happening in a time where things are moving towards ease and accessibility for everyone.

Here's what he wrote about his experience. I think a version of this is going to wind up as a letter to the editor of his local newspaper, and so it should. More people need to know how horrible the act of voting with a disability can be. That's the only way it might ever get better.

As a rule, I am not the first person to make a huge deal about whether or not something is accessible for everyone, but this is about to change.

Like many other Canadians, I went out and did my part by voting. Even though many of my fellow Canadians learned very little from the last government when it held a minority, we now have a Conservative majority. This is by no means any fault of mine. Might as well take down the border between Canada and the U.S, we’ll be clones soon enough now. But, let’s save that for another time.

All went relatively smoothely until my turn to go in behind the box and vote. Then, what to my nearly sightless eyes should appear? Well, you guessed it, nothing. No tactile overlay with holes, no Braille overlay so I could tell whose box to X. Nothing at all.

Wouldn’t you think that in Brantford, a city likely having the most blind citizens per capita in Ontario, that something would have been done to make it possible for a visually impaired person to mark their own balett?

When I was first old enough to vote, I lived in Tavistock, a small town near Stratford. They had the tactile overlay. One of the ladies working there took me behind the box and explained which hole was who, then left while I marked. That was fine. What happened this year was not.

Luckily for myself and the people at the Polling Station especially, I had come with my neighbor. They got him to help me; actually, they got him to X my balett “on my behalf.” Is that even legal? Does anyone else see a problem with this? I don’t see much, but that was obviously not the thing to be doing. Everything is supposed to be super-private, and you make me vote like this? What happened to the whole privacy thing?

I know for a fact that we were both voting the same as we discussed it on the way to the Polling Station, but what if we weren’t? What if he was not the type of person to mark who I said I wanted? What if I had gone alone? We’ll never know because after being marked, the balett was folded, and suddenly an object of secrecy, as it should have been all along.

I wish I had spoken up at the time and made a complaint, but there were others waiting to vote and I didn’t want to hold up the line. But, rest assured, next time, I will say something. I don’t know whether or not any other blind people in Brantford had this problem, or if it was just my particular Poling Station. But, if a small town like Tavistock can make voting accessible to all, why can’t a large city such as Brantford follow suit?

Brad Wettlaufer

If you had a similar experience, let people know. Write your newspapers, write your MP, hell, send it to me and perhaps I'll put it up here. And if you want to let Elections Canada know how you're feeling, fill out this form and send it in. There's no good reason why the government can't do better.

Missing Money, Missing Brains

Thanks Ann for this one. You know how to find some real doozers.

These four robbery suspects should just take this whole mess as a sign that they aren't meant for a life of crime.

The story goes that Antonio Epinger, Kevin Dennis, Seluvaia Ita and Vanessa Perry robbed a restaurant late at night. They held out a gun and demanded money. They got a bunch and ran off. But one of them dropped some of it. Instead of realizing that the money is a lost cause and moving along, they came back for it. Yes. Robbers, who were seen by several people, came back to the scene of the crime to collect the money they dropped.

Luckily for them, the place wasn't already swarming with cops and they managed to pick up the lost loot and get away. But they didn't get far before cops found them based on the witnesses' descriptions.

And to show more stupidity, two of the suspects tried to slump down and hide in the back seat, and as they were all made to exit the vehicle, some of their money fell out, again.

Here's the saddest part of this whole tale. None of these people were crazy young. The youngest one was 26. By the time you reach 26, shouldn't you know that coming back for money you dropped and trying to scrunch down in the back of the car aren't going to work?

Just sad.

Carma, Dude, Carma!

Thanks Ann for this one.

Here's a little story to tell kids who are being rude, impatient little brats.

Once upon a time, in a store not far away, there were two men wanting to buy a lottery ticket. There was Mike Barth, a man quietly waiting his turn in line, and there was another man, let's just call him Mr. Pushypants.

Mr. Pushypants wanted his ticket now now now. So, he cut in front of Mike. He got his ticket, and Mike waited and got his, too.

Days went by, and the time came to find out whose ticket would win. There were a lot of tickets, and whoever won the lottery would be pretty special. Do you want to guess who won the ticket? Was it Mr. Pushypants? No no no! Mike and his buddies got the winning ticket. They will all have enough money to live happily ever after.

So, the moral of the story is, don't be like Mr. Pushypants. Good things will come if you wait your turn.

I've Had Some Comfy Chairs, But None I'd Want To Stay In For Two Years

Thanks Ann for this one.

Eek. We have another person who sat in a chair so long he got stuck to it. Just like this woman who was stuck to her john, this morbidly obese guy sat in a chair for two years! He didn't get up to use the john! There he was, sitting in his chair, his skin fused to it, covered in his own waste, and there were magots! Eeewwweeewwweeewww! Now he's no longer with us.

You have got to be some kind of depressed to not move from a spot for two years. Two years? Not even to eat or use the bathroom? Yikes!

Wow. that's a lot of ug.

The Importance Of Capitalization

Ann sent me this yesterday, and I chuckled. How true.

Those of us who fall into the world of hi-tech should take note of the importance of correct grammar. I have noticed that many who text messages & email, have forgotten the "art" of capitalization. Capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse. Grammar is important, let's not forget it!

Oh boy is it ever.

Funnily enough, that joke reminded me of this old legend. So it appears forgetting about grammar is older than we thought.

And is it me or is there one weirdly-placed comma in the joke?