I met Bitsy in the grocery store and she said, “G’day, mate!”
Boy was that embarrassing. I thought that word was a verb.
g’mornin
G’Day – The act of wishing someone a Good Day as most commonly abbreviated by Australians or Americans in the 1980’s after the Crocidile Dundee Films.
Its also not in common use as G’Day standing for God’s Day or Sunday the day of which he rested in the old testiment book Genesis.
And even more Obscure use for G’Day is Groundhog’s Day
Stranger still is the almost unheard of outside a small South Western United States town of Veyo Utah where G’day is used by some of the town folk as an exclimation of George’s Day or the day in which George Francisco one of the Spanish traveler on the old Spanish Trail gold route between Los Angeles California and Santa Fe New Mexico that stopped in Veyo and was the first man to use their hot springs.
(last three are BS but if you use enough real history anything sounds convincing)
A friend is someone you can call to help you move.
A best friend is someone you can call to help you move a body.
A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul.
–George Bernard Shaw
The priest was waiting on Saturday afternoon for his usual parade of people coming to confession. In comes a man so drunk, he is stumbling down the aisle, bouncing from pew to pew. Finally he finds the confessional, goes in, and shuts the door.
The priest goes in his side and waits. Nothing happens. He clears his throat so the fellow might know he is there and ready. No reaction. Finally, he starts losing his patience and bangs sharply on the wall three times.
The drunk fellow in the confessional says, “It’s no use knockin’…There’s no paper in here either!”
Dad used to say we were robbing Peter to pay Paul until we ran out of Peter.
Right then! Play nice or you will all have to go to your rooms!!!
Aging Mildred was a 93 year-old woman who was particularly despondent over the recent death of her husband Earl.
She decided that she would just kill herself and join him in death.
Thinking that it would be best to get it over with quickly, she took out Earl’s old Army pistol and made the decision to shoot herself in the heart since it was so badly broken in the first place.
Not wanting to miss the vital organ and become a vegetable and burden to someone, she called her doctor to inquire as to just exactly where the heart would be.
“On a woman,” the doctor said, “your heart would be just below your left breast.”
Later that night, Mildred was admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound to her knee.
So that’s what “Bury my heart at Wounded Knee” means.
Indeed! We are at gmail chat if you are interested Rev.
Bits, I’d love to join, but can’t right now. Perhaps later if you’re still around.
It was Paddy and Seamus giving the motorcycle a ride on a brisk autumn day. After a wee bit, Paddy who was sitt’n behind Seamus on the bike began to holler …”Seamus … Seamus … the wind is cutt’n me chest out!”
“Well, Paddy my lad,” said Seamus, “why don’t you take your jacket off and turn it from front to back … that’ll block the wind for you.”
So Paddy took Seamus’ advice and turned his jacket from front to back and got back on the bike and the two of them were off down the road again. After a bit, Seamus turned to talk to Paddy and was horrified to see that Paddy was not there. Seamus immediately turned the bike around and retraced their route. When after a short time he came to a turn and saw a bunch of farmers standing around Paddy who was sitting on the ground.
“Thanks be to h’ven, is he alright?” Seamus hailed to the farmers.
“Well,” said one of the farmers, ” he was alright when we found him here .. but since we turned his head back to the front .. he hasn’t said a word!”
Back in the frontier days, a westbound wagon train was lost and low on food.
No other humans had been seen for days, when finally they saw an “Old Jewish Man” sitting beneath a tree. The leader rushed to him and said,
“We’re lost and running out of food. Is there someplace ahead where we can get food?
“Vell,” the old Jew said, “I vouldn’t go up dat hill und down other side. Somevun told me you’ll run into a big bacon tree.”
“A bacon tree?” asked the wagon train leader.
“Yah, ah bacon tree. Trust me. For nuttin vud I lie.”
The leader goes back and tells his people that if nothing else, they might be able to find food on the other side of the next ridge. “So why did he say not to go there?” some of the pioneers asked.
“Oh, you know those Jews — they don’t eat bacon.”
So the wagon train goes up the hill and down the other side. Suddenly, Indians attack and massacre everyone except the leader, who barely manages to escape back to the old Jew, who’s enjoying a “glassel tea.”
The near-dead man starts shouting,
“You fool! You sent us to our deaths!
We followed your instructions, but there was no bacon tree! There was hundreds of Indians, who killed everyone.”
The old Jew holds up his hand and says “Oy, vait a minute.” He then gets out an old English-Yiddish dictionary, and begins thumbing through it.
“Gevalt, I made myself ah big mistake.
It vuz not a bacon tree…..It vuz a ham bush!”
Right, I have to go to bed now so I am deputising Bella and Deborah. Have fun and I will read you all tomorrow!
I’m starting a new website that’ll hopefully be a series of funny self-produced videos. This humor is probably geared more towards guys. It’s in the infancy stage right now and is ever evolving. So far, the feedback I’ve gotten back so far is that the chick in the video is “banging” and “damn funny”. Though you never see me, the voice behind the camera is yours truly. Check it out…
“If God dwells inside us, like some people say, I sure hope He likes enchiladas, because that’s what He’s getting”……Jack Handey
If you have gmail, you can open a session and invite/accept chat invitations from others. It’s a gmail function, not B&P function. Folks would have to have your gmail address to invite you. (It might work with other accounts as well; I’ve only used it for gmail).
I figured that. Kind of hard to exchange email addresses here.
Oz….
Bitsy assume your destiny, rule over the B&P masses
i got a new job interview in NYC. i am returning to my roots.
“Kind of hard to exchange email addresses here.”
Scott
Really it is not that hard, all you have to do is type it in a comment.
Just kidding! But you don’t have that much to lose,,Google has already gave to half the world anyway.
Scott – I can help. Click me ^ . Click User Info. Click Private Message. That will send message you write to my email box. Give me your gmail address, I can add you, send you my gmail address and invite you. There are a few other B&Pers on there including Bitsy. Nobody else at the moment they all have lives, and it’s the middle of the night for Bitsy. Once you’re set up tho, you can go in and out as you please.
Did I say Scott? I meant Kate 🙂
Did I say Kate? I meant KATE!! 🙂 🙂
We usually meet up on Sunday morns US Eastern Time. Random other times. The more the merrier. You have to have a Gmail email address. Works on Firefox and IE.
Looks like you have to sign up on LJ to send me a personal message…tried to change that but I can’t. It’s an LJ thing.
I don’t know if you still have to be invited by somebody to be able to open a new Gmail account.
If you do, ^ and let me know. I have 50 invitations available.
I’m getting there slowly. I’ve had gmail accounts for a long time but never used them, so I’m fumbling around there a bit. Kids want me to do other stuff now, I’ll work on it again later.
I’ll be around.
Anybody else too…the more the merrier. Jonco could give out my gmail address too, if you’re not an undercover pervert-trapping cop pretending to be a 13 year old hottie. I’ve had it up to here with them dudes every d@mn day.
A man is in a bar and falling off his stool every couple of minutes. He is obviously drunk. So the bartender says to another man in the bar: “Why don’t you be a good Samaritan and take him home.”
The man takes the drunk out the door and to his car and he stumbles at least ten times. They drive along and the drunk points out his house to the man. He stops the car and the drunk stumbles up the steps to his house with the man.
The drunk’s wife greets them at the door: “Why thank you for bringing him home for me, but where’s his wheel chair?”
A priest and a nun are on their way back from the cemetery when their car breaks down.
The garage doesn’t open until morning so they have to spend the night in a B&B. It only has one room available.
The priest says: “Sister, I don’t think the Lord would object if we spend the night sharing this one room. I’ll sleep on the sofa and you have the bed.”
“I think that would be fine,” agrees the nun.
They prepare for bed, say some prayers and settle down to sleep.
Ten minutes pass, and the nun says: “Father, I’m very cold.”
“OK,” says the priest, “I’ll get a blanket from the cupboard.”
Another ten minutes pass and the nun says again: “Father, I’m still terribly cold.”
The priest says: “Don’t worry, I’ll get up and fetch you another blanket.”
Another ten minutes pass, then the nun murmurs softly: “Father I’m still very cold. I don’t think the Lord would mind if we acted as man and wife just for a night.”
“You’re right,” says the priest. “Get your own g0dd@mn blankets.”
I hadn’t thought about passing it via LJ. I just passed my id out and didn’t worry about it since I don’t use that account.
Hi Revy. The don’t taze me is funny, DJ. That one will go down in history.
Good afternoon, Bella. Looks like a slow day.
I don’t think I can handle that bitsy, I’m a ‘wuss’… right Bella?
Deborah, that was a joke and I’m a WUSS!! I slept in. I missed Bitsy as it was her bedtime but caught DJ and infi. I eat crow. I am a Wuss!! Might have to go thru a 12 step program.
Ummm…I was up at sunrise at 6am, ya buncha girly-girls.
I’m sorry, Deborah. Don’t be mad at me. 🙁 I meant no harm, just a smart@ss joke.
You girls missed some awesome man-coffee & outfrikkinstanding pancakes.
And I wasn’t wearing any pants.
(I’ll NEVER fry bacon like that again.)
DJ I was going to bed at sunrise while you were getting up. I can’t believe we missed out on breakfast Bella 🙁 Maybe we can try next weekend and won’t miss out on pancakes.
It’s Sunday morning. Time for another open mic. I’ll be posting later today.
Who’s in charge here today?
I nominate Bitsy!
Second, all in favor say Oz.
I met Bitsy in the grocery store and she said, “G’day, mate!”
Boy was that embarrassing. I thought that word was a verb.
g’mornin
G’Day – The act of wishing someone a Good Day as most commonly abbreviated by Australians or Americans in the 1980’s after the Crocidile Dundee Films.
Its also not in common use as G’Day standing for God’s Day or Sunday the day of which he rested in the old testiment book Genesis.
And even more Obscure use for G’Day is Groundhog’s Day
Stranger still is the almost unheard of outside a small South Western United States town of Veyo Utah where G’day is used by some of the town folk as an exclimation of George’s Day or the day in which George Francisco one of the Spanish traveler on the old Spanish Trail gold route between Los Angeles California and Santa Fe New Mexico that stopped in Veyo and was the first man to use their hot springs.
(last three are BS but if you use enough real history anything sounds convincing)
A friend is someone you can call to help you move.
A best friend is someone you can call to help you move a body.
A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul.
–George Bernard Shaw
The priest was waiting on Saturday afternoon for his usual parade of people coming to confession. In comes a man so drunk, he is stumbling down the aisle, bouncing from pew to pew. Finally he finds the confessional, goes in, and shuts the door.
The priest goes in his side and waits. Nothing happens. He clears his throat so the fellow might know he is there and ready. No reaction. Finally, he starts losing his patience and bangs sharply on the wall three times.
The drunk fellow in the confessional says, “It’s no use knockin’…There’s no paper in here either!”
Dad used to say we were robbing Peter to pay Paul until we ran out of Peter.
Right then! Play nice or you will all have to go to your rooms!!!
Aging Mildred was a 93 year-old woman who was particularly despondent over the recent death of her husband Earl.
She decided that she would just kill herself and join him in death.
Thinking that it would be best to get it over with quickly, she took out Earl’s old Army pistol and made the decision to shoot herself in the heart since it was so badly broken in the first place.
Not wanting to miss the vital organ and become a vegetable and burden to someone, she called her doctor to inquire as to just exactly where the heart would be.
“On a woman,” the doctor said, “your heart would be just below your left breast.”
Later that night, Mildred was admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound to her knee.
So that’s what “Bury my heart at Wounded Knee” means.
Indeed! We are at gmail chat if you are interested Rev.
Bits, I’d love to join, but can’t right now. Perhaps later if you’re still around.
It was Paddy and Seamus giving the motorcycle a ride on a brisk autumn day. After a wee bit, Paddy who was sitt’n behind Seamus on the bike began to holler …”Seamus … Seamus … the wind is cutt’n me chest out!”
“Well, Paddy my lad,” said Seamus, “why don’t you take your jacket off and turn it from front to back … that’ll block the wind for you.”
So Paddy took Seamus’ advice and turned his jacket from front to back and got back on the bike and the two of them were off down the road again. After a bit, Seamus turned to talk to Paddy and was horrified to see that Paddy was not there. Seamus immediately turned the bike around and retraced their route. When after a short time he came to a turn and saw a bunch of farmers standing around Paddy who was sitting on the ground.
“Thanks be to h’ven, is he alright?” Seamus hailed to the farmers.
“Well,” said one of the farmers, ” he was alright when we found him here .. but since we turned his head back to the front .. he hasn’t said a word!”
Back in the frontier days, a westbound wagon train was lost and low on food.
No other humans had been seen for days, when finally they saw an “Old Jewish Man” sitting beneath a tree. The leader rushed to him and said,
“We’re lost and running out of food. Is there someplace ahead where we can get food?
“Vell,” the old Jew said, “I vouldn’t go up dat hill und down other side. Somevun told me you’ll run into a big bacon tree.”
“A bacon tree?” asked the wagon train leader.
“Yah, ah bacon tree. Trust me. For nuttin vud I lie.”
The leader goes back and tells his people that if nothing else, they might be able to find food on the other side of the next ridge. “So why did he say not to go there?” some of the pioneers asked.
“Oh, you know those Jews — they don’t eat bacon.”
So the wagon train goes up the hill and down the other side. Suddenly, Indians attack and massacre everyone except the leader, who barely manages to escape back to the old Jew, who’s enjoying a “glassel tea.”
The near-dead man starts shouting,
“You fool! You sent us to our deaths!
We followed your instructions, but there was no bacon tree! There was hundreds of Indians, who killed everyone.”
The old Jew holds up his hand and says “Oy, vait a minute.” He then gets out an old English-Yiddish dictionary, and begins thumbing through it.
“Gevalt, I made myself ah big mistake.
It vuz not a bacon tree…..It vuz a ham bush!”
Right, I have to go to bed now so I am deputising Bella and Deborah. Have fun and I will read you all tomorrow!
I want this church http://www.indystar.com/article/20090726/LOCAL/907260358/Race-day+gridlock+can+t+stop+this+Speedway+church
I’m starting a new website that’ll hopefully be a series of funny self-produced videos. This humor is probably geared more towards guys. It’s in the infancy stage right now and is ever evolving. So far, the feedback I’ve gotten back so far is that the chick in the video is “banging” and “damn funny”. Though you never see me, the voice behind the camera is yours truly. Check it out…
http://www.lickmyhotdog.com
How do you get to gmail chat?
“If God dwells inside us, like some people say, I sure hope He likes enchiladas, because that’s what He’s getting”……Jack Handey
If you have gmail, you can open a session and invite/accept chat invitations from others. It’s a gmail function, not B&P function. Folks would have to have your gmail address to invite you. (It might work with other accounts as well; I’ve only used it for gmail).
I figured that. Kind of hard to exchange email addresses here.
Oz….
Bitsy assume your destiny, rule over the B&P masses
i got a new job interview in NYC. i am returning to my roots.
“Kind of hard to exchange email addresses here.”
Scott
Really it is not that hard, all you have to do is type it in a comment.
Just kidding! But you don’t have that much to lose,,Google has already gave to half the world anyway.
Scott – I can help. Click me ^ . Click User Info. Click Private Message. That will send message you write to my email box. Give me your gmail address, I can add you, send you my gmail address and invite you. There are a few other B&Pers on there including Bitsy. Nobody else at the moment they all have lives, and it’s the middle of the night for Bitsy. Once you’re set up tho, you can go in and out as you please.
Did I say Scott? I meant Kate 🙂
Did I say Kate? I meant KATE!! 🙂 🙂
We usually meet up on Sunday morns US Eastern Time. Random other times. The more the merrier. You have to have a Gmail email address. Works on Firefox and IE.
Looks like you have to sign up on LJ to send me a personal message…tried to change that but I can’t. It’s an LJ thing.
I don’t know if you still have to be invited by somebody to be able to open a new Gmail account.
If you do, ^ and let me know. I have 50 invitations available.
I’m getting there slowly. I’ve had gmail accounts for a long time but never used them, so I’m fumbling around there a bit. Kids want me to do other stuff now, I’ll work on it again later.
I’ll be around.
Anybody else too…the more the merrier. Jonco could give out my gmail address too, if you’re not an undercover pervert-trapping cop pretending to be a 13 year old hottie. I’ve had it up to here with them dudes every d@mn day.
Ouch, who you talking about
WillisI mean DJ??Hahahaha! Don’t taze me bro!!!
Ok, I won’t.
good afternoon, folks.
Hi Rev!
Bella – That’s a famous American phrase from the election campaign… http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2007/09/dont-tase-me-br/
A man is in a bar and falling off his stool every couple of minutes. He is obviously drunk. So the bartender says to another man in the bar: “Why don’t you be a good Samaritan and take him home.”
The man takes the drunk out the door and to his car and he stumbles at least ten times. They drive along and the drunk points out his house to the man. He stops the car and the drunk stumbles up the steps to his house with the man.
The drunk’s wife greets them at the door: “Why thank you for bringing him home for me, but where’s his wheel chair?”
A priest and a nun are on their way back from the cemetery when their car breaks down.
The garage doesn’t open until morning so they have to spend the night in a B&B. It only has one room available.
The priest says: “Sister, I don’t think the Lord would object if we spend the night sharing this one room. I’ll sleep on the sofa and you have the bed.”
“I think that would be fine,” agrees the nun.
They prepare for bed, say some prayers and settle down to sleep.
Ten minutes pass, and the nun says: “Father, I’m very cold.”
“OK,” says the priest, “I’ll get a blanket from the cupboard.”
Another ten minutes pass and the nun says again: “Father, I’m still terribly cold.”
The priest says: “Don’t worry, I’ll get up and fetch you another blanket.”
Another ten minutes pass, then the nun murmurs softly: “Father I’m still very cold. I don’t think the Lord would mind if we acted as man and wife just for a night.”
“You’re right,” says the priest. “Get your own g0dd@mn blankets.”
I hadn’t thought about passing it via LJ. I just passed my id out and didn’t worry about it since I don’t use that account.
Hi Revy. The don’t taze me is funny, DJ. That one will go down in history.
Good afternoon, Bella. Looks like a slow day.
I don’t think I can handle that bitsy, I’m a ‘wuss’… right Bella?
Deborah, that was a joke and I’m a WUSS!! I slept in. I missed Bitsy as it was her bedtime but caught DJ and infi. I eat crow. I am a Wuss!! Might have to go thru a 12 step program.
Ummm…I was up at sunrise at 6am, ya buncha girly-girls.
I’m sorry, Deborah. Don’t be mad at me. 🙁 I meant no harm, just a smart@ss joke.
You girls missed some awesome man-coffee & outfrikkinstanding pancakes.
And I wasn’t wearing any pants.
(I’ll NEVER fry bacon like that again.)
DJ I was going to bed at sunrise while you were getting up. I can’t believe we missed out on breakfast Bella 🙁 Maybe we can try next weekend and won’t miss out on pancakes.