As most of you know hubby and I are going on a bloggers cruise the end of next month. During this cruise we will be hobnobbing with lots of other bloggers, but most importantly we will be cruising with royalty. Thanks to Barb of Aging Gracefully-ish (Duchess PMS) because she helped me find out my princess name. She typed in my full name (first and last) @ Ya-Ya Name Generator and my name is Princess Because-I-Said-So. I love it and it's mine forever. If you are curious about your name here's the scoop: Ya-Ya Name Generator
On the edge of a moonlit bayou, the Mistress of Names, descendant of the divine tribe of Ya-Yas, now bestows upon you your official Ya-Ya name, forever joining you to the proud and true lineage of Queen Dancing Creek, Duchess Soaring Hawk, Countess Singing Cloud and Princess Naked-as-a-Jaybird.
Want to give it a go then click HERE and find out your Ya-Ya name. You can type your name in like Suzie Smith or Suzanne Smith or suzie smith or suzanne smith. Spelling it differently will generate different results.
Thanks Barb and I ordered the tiara at the top of this post. This cruise is going to be so much fun.
Curtis and Leroy saw an ad in the Starkville Daily News Newspaper in Starkville, MS. and bought a mule for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the mule the next day.
The next morning the farmer drove up and said, "Sorry, fellows, I have some bad news, the mule died last night."
Curtis and Leroy replied, "Well, then just give us our money back."
The farmer said, "Can’t do that. I went and spent it already."
They said, "OK then, just bring us the dead mule."
The farmer asked, "What in the world ya’ll gonna do with a dead mule?"
Curtis said, "We gonna raffle him off."
The farmer said, "You can’t raffle off a dead mule!"
Leroy said, "We shore can! Heck, we don’t hafta tell nobody he’s dead!"
A couple of weeks later, the farmer ran into Curtis and Leroy at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store and asked. "What’d you fellers ever do with that dead mule?"
They said,"We raffled him off like we said we wuz gonna do."
Leroy said, "Shucks, we sold 500 tickets fer two dollars apiece and made a profit of $898."
The farmer said, "My Lord, didn’t anyone complain?"
Curtis said, "Well, the feller who won got upset. So we gave him his two dollars back."
Curtis and Leroy now work for the government. They’re overseeing the Bailout Program.
Aussies: Believe you should look out for your mates. Brits: Believe that you should look out for those people who belong to your club. Americans: Believe that people should look out for and take care of themselves. Canadians: Believe that that is the government's job.
Aussies: Dislike being mistaken for Pommies (Brits) when abroad. Canadians: Are rather indignant about being mistaken for Americans when abroad. Americans: Encourage being mistaken for Canadians when abroad. Brits: Can't possibly be mistaken for anyone else when abroad.
Canadians: Endure bitterly cold winters and are proud of it. Brits: Endure oppressively wet and dreary winters and are proud of it. Americans: Don't have to do either, and couldn't care less. Aussies: Don't understand what inclement weather means.
Americans: Drink weak, pissy-tasting beer. Canadians: Drink strong, pissy-tasting beer. Brits: Drink warm, beery-tasting piss. Aussies: Drink anything with alcohol in it.
Americans: Seem to think that poverty and failure are morally suspect. Canadians: Seem to believe that wealth and success are morally suspect. Brits: Seem to believe that wealth, poverty, success, and failure are inherited. Aussies: Seem to think that none of this matters after several beers.
Brits: Have produced many great comedians, celebrated by Canadians, ignored by Americans, and therefore not rich. Aussies: Have produced comedians like Paul Hogan and Yahoo Serious. Canadians: Have produced many great comedians such as John Candy, Martin Short, Jim Carrey, Dan Akroyd, and all the rest at SCTV. Americans: Think that these people are American!
Americans: Spend most of their lives glued to the idiot box. Canadians: Don't, but only because they can't get more American channels. Brits: Pay a tax just so they can watch 4 channels. Aussies: Export all their crappy programs, which no one there watches, to Britain, where everybody loves them.
Americans: Will jabber on incessantly about football, baseball and basketball. Brits: Will jabber on incessantly about cricket, soccer and rugby. Canadians: Will jabber on incessantly about hockey, hockey, hockey, and how they beat the Americans twice, playing baseball. Aussies: Will jabber on incessantly about how they beat the Pommies in every sport they played them in.
Aussies: Are extremely patriotic about their beer. Americans: Are flag-waving, anthem-singing, and obsessively patriotic to the point of blindness. Canadians: Can't agree on the words to their anthem, in either language, when they can be bothered to sing them. Brits: Do not sing at all but prefer a large brass band to perform the anthem.
Brits: Are justifiably proud of the accomplishments of their past citizens. Americans: Are justifiably proud of the accomplishments of their present citizens. Canadians: Prattle on about how some of those great Americans were once Canadian. Aussies: Waffle on about how some of their past citizens were once Outlaw Pommies, but none of that matters after several beers.
"My wife has done it to me again. I'm supposed to buy my mother-in-law a present for her birthday, from the two of us. And I am fresh out of ideas. I mean it's HER mother, why can't she buy it?"
"What did you buy her last year?" the other one asked.
"Last year I bought her a VERY EXPENSIVE cemetery plot."
"Hmmmm, hard to top that one," said the other.
The two guys couldn't come up with anything. So the son-in-law didn't buy his mother-in-law anything for her birthday.
When the big day arrived the next weekend, she was a bit upset. At the family gathering for her birthday, she announced out loud to everyone, "Thank you all for the wonderful gifts. Too bad my daughter and son-in-law weren't so thoughtful!"
Thinking quickly, the son-in-law responded, "Well, you haven't used the gift I gave you last year!"
A tragic wave of violence against America’s law enforcement officers started this past Sunday, with 11 officers shot within a 24 hour time frame.
I ask you to join me in standing shoulder-to-shoulder with law enforcement, and Stand with the Thin Blue Line. The Memorial Fund is compiling a list of Americans to show our law enforcement community that we stand by them, as they work tirelessly protecting our communities.
The recent spate of violence began in Detroit, MI, when a gunman entered a precinct and shot four officers; next two Kitsap County, WA Sheriff’s Deputies were shot at a Wal-Mart while responding to a call reporting a suspicious person; and police officers in both Indianapolis, IN and Lincoln City, OR were shot during traffic stops. The officer from Lincoln City is still in critical condition, but the officer from Indianapolis succumbed to his injuries. The attacks continued on Monday when three officers were shot — two fatally wounded, and one injured — while serving an aggravated battery warrant at a St. Petersburg, FL home.
Several days ago, I shared with you the disturbing news that law enforcement fatalities rose in 2010.Unfortunately, 2011 continues in a similar fashion to 2010 – with 15 officer fatalities in the New Year, 11 cases where officers have been shot and killed.
The following officers are the most recent gunfire-related fatalities:
Clark County (OH) Sheriff’s Deputy Suzanne Hopper
Rainier (OR) Police Chief Ralph Painter
Baltimore City (MD) Police Officer William H. Torbit, Jr.
Lakewood (NJ) Patrolman Christopher Matlosz
Livonia (MI) Police Officer Larry Nehasil
Miami-Dade (FL) Police Officers Roger Castillo and Amanda Haworth
St. Petersburg (FL) Sergeant Tom Baitinger and Officer Jeffrey Yaslowitz
Indianapolis Metropolitan (IN) Police Officer David Moore
These men and women put their lives on the line for us every day, to ensure our safety, and we must stand in support of law enforcement.Please Stand with the Thin Blue Line and add your name to the growing list of individuals who are tired of the violence against America's law enforcement heroes. Help show the law enforcement community that we stand by them, at a time when they are under attack.
"Equal" is not always synonymous with "the same." Men and women are created equal, but boys and girls are not born the same.
You throw a little girl a ball, and it will hit her in the nose.You throw a little boy a ball, and he will try to catch it. Then it will hit him in the nose.
You dress your little girl in her Easter Sunday best, and she'll look just as pretty when you finally make it to church an hour later. You dress a boy in his Easter Sunday best, and he'll somehow find every mud puddle from your home to the church, even if you're driving there.
Boys' rooms are usually messy. Girls' rooms are usually messy, except it's a good smelling mess.
A baby girl will pick up a stick and look in wonderment at what nature has made. A baby boy will pick up a stick and turn it into a gun.
When girls play with Barbie and Ken dolls, they like to dress them up and play house with them. When boys play with Barbie and Ken dolls, they like to tear off their appendages.
Boys couldn't care less if their hair is unruly. If their bangs got cut a quarter-inch too short, girls would rather lock themselves in their room for two weeks than be seen in public.
Baby girls find mommy's makeup and almost instinctively start painting their face. Baby boys find mommy's makeup and almost instinctively start painting the walls.
If a girl accidentally burps, she will be embarrassed. If a boy accidentally burps, he will follow it with a dozen fake belches.
Girls are attracted to boys, even at an early age. At an early age, boys are attracted to dirt.
By the age of 6, boys will stop giving their dad kisses. By the age of 6, girls will stop giving their dad kisses unless he bribes them with candy.
Most baby girls talk before boys do. Before boys talk, they learn how to make machine-gun noises.
Girls will cry if someone dies in a movie. Boys will cry if you turn off the VCR after they've watched "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" movie three times in a row.
Girls turn into women. Boys turn into bigger boys.
Taps! I've heard them way too many times in my career in law enforcement. I've stood at attention at too many funerals. Lately I've been hearing about too many officers killed in the line of duty. It's still January and look at the list of officers that are never going to go home again. Eleven cops have been shot in just the last 24 hours. As most agencies are laying off law enforcement personnel the criminals are getting bolder and bolder.
According to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund's preliminary "2010 End of Year Officer Fatality Report," officer fatalities reached 162, a nearly 40 percent increase from the 117 in 2009. Of the 162 officers killed in the line of duty, 61 were shot — a 24 percent increase from 2009. Tragically, the trend continued with 14 officer deaths in January, 10 of which resulted from shootings accounting for a 40 percent increase compared to the same period in 2010.
Deputy Sheriff Suzanne Hopper Clark County Sheriff's Office, OH EOW: Saturday, January 1, 2011 Cause of Death: Gunfire
Deputy Sheriff John Norsworthy Fort Bend County Sheriff's Office, TX EOW: Tuesday, January 4, 2011 Cause of Death: Automobile accident
On average, one law enforcement officer is killed in the line of duty somewhere in the United States every 53 hours. Since the first known line-of-duty death in 1792, nearly 19,000 U.S. law enforcement officers have made the ultimate sacrifice. Source: National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund
I've been so busy with a million things that I neglected to tell you about my first yacht club function as the commodore. Our rear commodore is responsible for executing all the drive-in functions that he scheduled last year. The first on the docket was The Ryde Hotel. If you missed the post about this event you can read that post HERE.
It has been a very long time since hubby and I went to The Ryde. As I recall it was a boat ride with about 10 people for brunch. We all had our favorite Sunday morning cocktails (except for the operator of the boat) and just enjoyed the view on they way. It's about an hour plus ride up the river and there's nothing like going to brunch on a boat.
Our first yacht club event was very little work for me. Those of you who know me and have watched me go through the chairs have listened to me talk about all the preparation that goes into each event. Well, a commodore gets all the work handed to him/her and then does the introductions. That's it. There just isn't much to do. I kind of like it. The event was tons of fun and our rear commodore has a lot of great ideas on how to spice up our monthly meetings. He did a fantastic job.
The theme was the roaring 20s and since The Ryde was built in 1920 it just fit the evening wonderfully. Most haven't dressed up for these theme parties, but this time they did. Many of the couples came dressed to the nines in roaring 20s attire. I give you the flappers of our group. Hubby couldn't seem to get the guys to pose for a picture.
We are a very noisy group and everyone is having their conversations at different tables or different clusters of people here and there throughout the dining room. When it's time to make announcements it's like herding cats to get their attention. Herding cats is a tough job and anyone that has cats will agree.
The photograph at the very top is where many banquets and weddings take place at The Ryde. It's also where the speakeasy used to be. Hubby just had to get a shot of this. Also he found the poster below and thought of Linda of Are We There Yet??, and just had to get a shot. This is right down her ghost chasing alley.
We had a fabulous meal and a lot of fun. I'm going to like being the commodore of our yacht club.
The best laid plans don't always work out. Today was going to be the day that our family got together for a big BBQ rib feed. Hubby was going to fix the ribs in what he terms low and slow (low heat for a long time) and I was going to make homemade potato salad, along with asparagus and my famous garlic French bread. Hubby was going to make everyone's favorite dessert. That is what was going to be.
On Friday afternoon hubby was sounding pretty rough. He felt okay, but his throat was scratchy and he was coughing here and there. Just before bed we both knew he had a cold. Sure enough we got up Saturday morning and he sounded even worse. So I called off our Sunday afternoon feed. It was to be the first time we've seen our great grand baby since she and her mom were released from the hospital. Oh well, what can you do.
Yesterday, before hubby felt under the weather, we went to Babies 'R' Us and got Audi Lynn a bassinet for our home. Our granddaughter, her significant other and baby Audi Lynn are house sitting for us while we're on our cruise next month and they needed something portable for her to sleep in while we are gone. We had fun finding the cutest one we could find with all the bedding. I was hoping they would get to see it today, but that will have to wait for another time.
I'm getting really excited about our cruise on the BC4 and have pretty much everything done for that trip. I'll be getting to meet bloggers that I've known for a very long time. Empress Bee and Sarge Charlie, Barb and Linda (we've met Linda), and Sandy and Dick. Sandy has warned me that she's going to squeeze the stuffing out of me. I'll let you know how that goes.
For Linda who hasn't a clue what islands we are going to see here's the list. Let the folks at work know where you will be and what day. Just saying...
An 18 year-old girl tells her Mom that she has missed her period for two months.
Very worried, the mother goes to the Pharmacy and buys a pregnancy kit. The test result shows that the girl is pregnant.
Shouting, cursing, crying, the mother says, ‘Who was the pig that did this to you? I want to know!’
The girl picks up the phone and makes a call. Half an hour later a Ferrari stops in front of their house; a mature and distinguished man with gray hair and impeccably dressed in an Armani suit steps out of the Ferrari and enters the house.
He sits in the living room with the father, mother, and the girl and tells them:
‘Good morning, your daughter has informed me of the problem. I can’t marry her because of my personal family situation but I’ll take charge.
I will pay all costs and provide for your daughter for the rest of her life.
Additionally, if a girl is born I will bequeath her 2 retail stores, a townhouse, a beachfront villa and a $2,000,000 bank account.
If a boy is born, my legacy will be a couple of factories and a $4,000,000 bank account. If twins, they will receive a factory and $2,000,000 each.
However, if there is a miscarriage, I’m not really sure what to do. What do you suggest?’
At this point, the girl’s father, who had remained silent, places a hand firmly on the man’s shoulder and tells him, ‘You shag her again.’
In primitive society, when native tribes beat the ground with clubs and yelled, it was called witchcraft; today, in civilized society, it is called golf.
Golf is an expensive way of playing marbles.
Golf is a game in which the slowest people in the world are those in front of you, and the fastest are those behind.
Golf: A five mile walk punctuated with disappointments.
The secret of good golf is to hit the ball hard, straight and not too often.
There's no game like golf: you go out with three friends, play eighteen holes, and return with three enemies.
Golf was once a rich man's sport, but now it has millions of poor players.
An amateur golfer is one who addresses the ball twice: once before swinging, and once again after swinging.
Many a golfer prefers a golf cart to a caddy because the cart cannot count, criticize or laugh.
A couple was celebrating their golden wedding anniversary. Their domestic tranquility had long been the talk of the town. A local newspaper reporter was inquiring as to the secret of their long and happy marriage.
"Well, it dates back to our honeymoon," explained the man. "We visited the Grand Canyon and took a trip down the bottom of the canyon by pack mule."
"We hadn't gone too far when my wife's mule stumbled. My wife quietly said, 'That's once.' We proceeded a little farther when the mule stumbled again. One more my wife quietly said, 'That's twice.' We hadn't gone a half-mile when the mule stumbled a third time. My wife promptly removed a revolver from her pocket and shot him."
"I started to protest over her treatment of the mule when she looked at me and quietly said, 'That's once.'"
One Sunday, while counting the money in the weekly offering, the pastor of a small Florida church found a pink envelope containing $1000. It happened again the next week.
The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw a little old lady put the distinctive pink envelope in the plate.
This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her. 'Ma'am, I couldn't help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate,' he stated.
'Why yes,' she replied, 'every week my son sends me money, and I give some of it to the church.
'The pastor replied, 'That's wonderful, how much does he send you?'
The old lady said, '$10,000 a week.'
The pastor was amazed. 'Your son is very successful; what does he do for a living?'
'He is a veterinarian,' she answered.
'That is an honorable profession,' the pastor said. 'Where does he practice?'
The old lady said proudly, 'In Nevada. He has two cat houses in Las Vegas and one in Reno.'
A family had twin boys whose only resemblance to each other was their looks. Opposite in every way, one was an eternal optimist, the other boy was a gloomy pessimist.
Just to see what would happen, on the boys birthday their father loaded the pessimists room with lots of games and gadgets. The optimists room he loaded with horse dung.
That night the father passed by the pessimists room and found him sitting amid his new gifts with a sorrowful face.
“Why are you sad?” the father asked.
“Because my friends will be jealous, I’ll have to read all these instructions before I can do anything with this stuff, I’ll constantly need batteries, and my toys will eventually get broken.” answered the pessimist boy.
Passing the optimist twin’s room, the father found him dancing for joy in the heap of manure. “What are you so happy about?” he asked.
To which his optimist kid replied, “There must to be a pony in here somewhere, thanks for the gift Father.”
Tonight our yacht club has our first dinner meeting of the year. We are going to The Ryde hotel. It was built in 1927 at the peak of the prohibition era. It was one of the first places I learned about when I start boating in the delta. How many of the stories are true no one knows. The lower level of this hotel used to be a speakeasy, and there are rumors that it was once a bordello. I'm sure it probably was. You can read about the hotels history HERE.
Hubby and I have been here before both by car and by boat. It's a lovely old place with great food and lots to see. Some of our yacht club members are spending the night as Sunday I have my first Board of Directors meeting.
Our rear commodore wanted to do different venues this year and he's starting off very nicely. I'm looking forward to a fun evening. The theme is the roaring 20s. How appropriate. I hope everyone has a great weekend.
It's time to play the comment game again. We are off to the boat for our first yacht club event of the year. I'll post about that tomorrow so you'll know where we are.
Here's how it goes: I'll start the game off at the bottom of this post by choosing two words or phrases, like coffee or tea, and which ever one you prefer you choose. You can also explain why. When you have done that you do two new words or phrases for the next commenter to choose from. Feel free to come back as often as you like. Just have fun. If someone derails the game will one of you put it back on track? Thanks.
Things about blogging that makes me scratch my head. OFTEN!
Why do you have comment moderation and word verification at the same time. Do you hate those that comment on your site that much?
Speaking of word verification, why use it at all. If you are afraid of spam (hey we all are) then moderate your comments. That way you won't have to worry about spam, and you aren't making your visitors jump through hoops to leave you a comment.
Music when your site opens. Okay some of it is okay, but your style of music may not be for everyone.
Seven tons of stuff on your sidebar that takes a week and a half for your site to open.
Ads that flash and jump all over the place. I swear I have a tic from some sites I've visited.
I comment on your blog but you've never commented on mine. Pretty soon I'll quit commenting. Just saying.
Rollover ads. I'll not come back to your site ever again. I've had Entrecard folks that I dropped on for a very long time then all of a sudden there are roll over ads. Bye.
Having too many ads. Okay by me if you want to earn some money, but if you have so many ads that I can't find much else then what is the point. Oh yeah...making money.
People with no profiles. Your comment is so going to get deleted.
Spammers trying to sell me Viagra. Hello, I'm female and I'm pretty sure I don't need Viagra. That goes for the male enhancement ads too.
Spammers that leave links to pornography. I'm just not interested okay?
Spammers period. Get a life will ya?
Colored text. My eyes are old and they just can't take some of these font colors.
A modern day little red hen may not sound like or appear to be a quotable authority on economics but then some authorities aren't worth quoting. I'll be right back.
About a year ago I imposed a little poetry on you. It was called "The Incredible Bread Machine" and made a lot of sense with reference to matters economic. You didn't object too much so having gotten away with it once I'm going to try again. This is a little treatise on basic economics called "The Modern little Red Hen."
Once upon a time there was a little red hen who scratched about the barnyard until she uncovered some grains of wheat. She called her neighbors and said 'If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?'
"Not I, " said the cow.
"Not I," said the duck.
"Not I," said the pig.
"Not I," said the goose.
"Then I will," said the little red hen. And she did. The wheat grew tall and ripened into golden grain.
"Who will help me reap my wheat?" asked the little red hen.
"Not I," said the duck.
"Out of my classification," said the pig.
"I'd lose my seniority," said the cow.
"I'd lose my unemployment compensation," said the goose.
"Then I will," said the little red hen, and she did.
At last the time came to bake the bread. "Who will help me bake bread?" asked the little red hen.
"That would be overtime for me," said the cow.
"I'd lose my welfare benefits," said the duck.
"I'm a dropout and never learned how," said the pig.
"If I'm to be the only helper, that's discrimination," said the goose.
"Then I will," said the little red hen.
She baked five loaves and held them up for the neighbors to see.
They all wanted some and, in fact, demanded a share. But the little red hen said, "No, I can eat the five loaves myself."
"Excess profits," cried the cow.
"Capitalist leech," screamed the duck.
"I demand equal rights," yelled the goose.
And the pig just grunted.
And they painted "unfair" picket signs and marched round and around the little red hen shouting obscenities.
When the government agent came, he said to the little red hen, "You must not be greedy."
"But I earned the bread," said the little red hen.
"Exactly," said the agent. "That's the wonderful free enterprise system. Anyone in the barnyard can earn as much as he wants. But under our modern government regulations productive workers must divide their products with the idle."
And they lived happily ever after, including the little red hen, who smiled and clucked, "I am grateful, I am grateful." But her neighbors wondered why she never again baked any more bread.
A man was driving down the highway, and sees a sign saying, "Sisters of Mercy, House of Prostitution, 10 miles"
Thinking it is some sort of joke, he pays no attention, until he sees a similar sign reading, "Sister's of Mercy, House of Prostitution, 5 miles."
Still unsure, he drives on, until spotting a third sign saying, "Sister's of Mercy, House of Prostitution, next exit". His curiosity getting the better of him, he takes the exit and parks his car outside the convent.
He knocks on the door, and tells the nun who answers, "I saw your signs on the highway, are they for real?"
The nun answers, "Yes" and tells him to give her $50 and follow her to a room.
He enters a room, and a second nun requests $50, and leads him to a door. Once he opens the door, he is quickly shoved outside by the nun.
He finds himself behind the convent, where he sees the final sign, "Thank you for you contributions, you have just been screwed by the Sisters of Mercy."
A city slicker bought some land in the country and decided he was going to take up chicken farming. He headed out to the local poultry dealer and said, “I’m taking up farming. Give me 100 baby chickens.” The salesman crated up the chickens for him and he went on his way.
The next week the new farmer showed up at the poultry dealer again and said, “Give me 200 baby chickens.” He took his chickens and headed back to the farm. Again, a week later he was back for more. This time he said, “Hmm, give me 300 baby chickens.”
“A good supply,” the salesman commented. “You must be doing really well!”
“Nah, doing terrible,” said the man with a sigh. “I can’t figure out if I’m planting them too deep or too far apart!”
As most of you know hubby and I are going on a bloggers cruise the end of next month. During this cruise we will be hobnobbing with lots of other bloggers, but most importantly we will be cruising with royalty. Thanks to Barb of Aging Gracefully-ish (Duchess PMS) because she helped me find out my princess name. She typed in my full name (first and last) @ Ya-Ya Name Generator and my name is Princess Because-I-Said-So. I love it and it's mine forever. If you are curious about your name here's the scoop:
