Signs

Sign over a Gynecologist’s Office:

“Dr. Jones, at your cervix.”

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In a Podiatrist’s office:

“Time wounds all heels.”

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On a Septic Tank Truck:

Yesterday’s Meals on Wheels

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At a Proctologist’s door:

“To expedite your visit, please back in.”

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On a Plumber’s truck:

“We repair what your husband fixed.”

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On another Plumber’s truck:

” Don’t sleep with a drip. Call your plumber.”

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On a Church’s Bill board:

“7 days without God makes one weak.”

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At a Tire Shop in Milwaukee :

“Invite us to your next blowout.”

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At a Towing company:

“We don’t charge an arm and a leg. We want tows.”

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On an Electrician’s truck:

“Let us remove your shorts.”

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In a Nonsmoking Area:

“If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.”

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On a Maternity Room door:

“Push. Push. Push.”

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At an Optometrist’s Office:

“If you don’t see what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place.”

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On a Taxidermist’s window:

“We really know our stuff.”

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On a Fence:

“Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive!”

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At a Car Dealership:

“The best way to get back on your feet – miss a car payment.”

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Outside a Muffler Shop:

“No appointment necessary. We hear you coming.”

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In a Veterinarian’s waiting room:

“Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!”

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At the Electric Company

“We would be delighted if you send in your payment.

However, if you don’t, you will be.”

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In a Restaurant window:

” Don ‘t stand there and be hungry; come on in and get fed up.”

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In the front yard of a Funeral Home:

“Drive carefully. We’ll wait.”

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At a Propane Filling Station:

“Thank heaven for little grills.”

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And don’t forget the sign at a CHICAGO RADIATOR SHOP:

“Best place in town to take a leak.”

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Sign on the back of another Septic Tank Truck:
“Caution – This Truck is full of Political Promises”

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

You’ll need:

Jar of your favorite spaghetti sauce (or make your own)
Your favorite pasta
1 box of your favorite taco shells
Meat of choice, or meatballs
Cheese and/or other toppings of choice.

Steps:

Cook your pasta according to package directions. I made approximately 8 servings, using a mix of “regular” and wheat thin spaghetti noodles. This ensured that I would have made enough for everyone to get their fill, and would have plenty leftover for me to take with me the next morning for lunch! Next time I may use some medium-sized shells or perhaps angel hair.

While your pasta is cooking, cook your meat (or warm it if using pre-packaged) and set to the side. I used Tyson’s fajita chicken strips. These can be warmed in a skillet or in the microwave and are handy when I need to throw together a meal in a hurry. In a large skillet, combine your sauce and meat, and simmer until thoroughly warmed to desired temperature.

Warm your taco shells according to package directions. I used I used Old El Paso Stand ‘n Stuff shells. These things are handy because I can sit them down on a flat surface and stuff!

Once the shells are warmed, layer pasta, sauce, and desired toppings into your taco shell. We used Parmesan cheese, but I’ll be eating my leftovers today with a mix of Parmesan and sharp cheddar.

The finished product:

I think next time I’ll add some salsa and/or hot sauce to give it some kick!

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

I’ve spent the last couple months realizing and appreciating the things for which I am truly grateful. I have a husband and daughter who love me. We have a roof over our heads and food on the table. I have wonderful and supportive friends and loved ones. I have a job. I have hope … I hold on to faith that things will work out in the end — even if I can’t see how they will or am desperately afraid that they won’t.

This is the time of year most people make their resolutions, right? I see many things I don’t like about myself or my life that I’d like to change.

The “musts”

The “might actually get done soon”

The “would like’s”

So here’s to a new year, and to hope. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

My mother-in-law tells me all the time what a positive influence I’ve been to Jessie. In essence, somewhere over the years, the roles of “mother” and “the other mother” became switched. Jessie remarked about her mother’s behavior and wondered if that’s why she and Jim divorced. She said would leave her too if she could, that she wanted to leave her “like Coraline wanted to leave the Other Mother after realizing what she was really like.”

While I laugh at Jessie’s analogy, I can’t help but feel sorry for her mother. I’ve said for years that one day Jessie will grow up and see her mother for what she really is. I think that day has come sooner than anyone thought.

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

We’re still working on the house here and there as time permits. We’ve started renovating both of the bathrooms and have started painting each room one at a time. Once Jim finds work, we can start the financing stuff again. The builder’s company that currently owns the home we want has been great about extending our contract as long as we need it, so that has definitely been one less thing to worry about!

We’ve all been spending our spare time playing Aion (as I’m sure everyone has gathered by now, LOL!). It’s been a great experience for Jessie so far. It amazes me how quickly she has picked up the MMO lingo and how she interacts with other people online — both in our guild and in pickup groups. Aion has also been excellent motivation when it comes to good behavior at home and diligence in her school work. She’s allowed to play Aion as long as she keeps up her studies and her grades, and so far it’s working great!

She’s doing REALLY well this year in middle school. She loves her teachers, her classes, and having more kids come in from area feeder schools has put a good mix of kids in her classes (rather than the same 20+ for the last 6 years). For the most part, she’s getting along much better with her schoolmates from what we can tell. We know there have been small “picking” events, but nothing near like the bullying she experienced in the elementary school. (although it helps that the two biggest bullies are no longer in the JeffCo school system — one is at an alternative school and the other now being homeschooled and “getting treatment for issues”)

Jessie is a completely different child now, it’s absolutely amazing.

I had been meaning to post about this for a while, but what prompted me was a story posted in The Birmingham News today about Trey Figures, a 12 year old boy in Anniston who committed suicide earlier this week. Reading Trey’s story broke my heart, not only because he is the same age as my child, but also because he was being bullied in a school that was completely unaware of the problem, and wasn’t doing enough to correct it.

I know I posted a little about Jessie’s bullying in the past on here. I can’t tell you how many phone calls Jim and I made to the school office, how many parent/teacher conferences we had, or how many meetings we had with the vice-principal and/or principal. (We even spoke with the parents of one of the kids who bullied her the most and even that proved fruitless.) The fact of the matter was: the school ALWAYS promised to do more, but what little that was done was never enough.

Honestly, Jessie never really started doing better until she was out of that school for good. Like most kids, she’s never the most excited in the mornings about actually going to school and doing classwork and accompanying homework, but she doesn’t beg me NOT to take her anymore. She doesn’t beg to stay out of school or stay home. She comes home in a good mood, instead of crying or sitting sullen in constant hostility to everyone around her. There’s less attitude and general bad behavior at home. You can tell just by being around her that she is a happier child.

Oh, and her grades have finally come back up! Did I tell y’all she made the A-B Honor Roll? She was just a few points shy of having straight A’s!!!!

This child hasn’t done this well since the very beginning of her school years!! The feedback we get from her teachers has been very encouraging and tells us that she is not only doing better at home, but in also at school and in class. She no longer acts up. She’s genuinely interested in her favorite subjects again and now applies herself more. One teacher put on her report card that she’s a “very respectful student.” Another tells us she “puts forth a lot of effort in class.”

Who wouldn’t be proud of that?

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a proud momma, and I’m sure Trey’s momma is no different. This morning I read Trey’s story and thought to myself, “That could very easily be any child — even mine.”

While I am very thankful and know I am truly blessed to see this wonderful transformation in my child, it breaks my heart to see a mother who won’t get the chance to see it in her own. As a personal favor to me, please keep Trey’s loved ones in your prayers.

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

I have such a good man.

To my darling husband, Jim:

Happy Anniversary! I love you!

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

Better than a Flu Shot

Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all. One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room. She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water, and in the water floated, of all things, a condom!

When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat. The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist.

‘Miss Beatrice’, he said, ‘I wonder if you would tell me about this?’ pointing to the bowl.

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘Isn’t it wonderful? I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease. Do you know I haven’t had the flu all winter!’

And this one came to me from Pam L. Mack and her Irish grandfather:

An Englishman, a Irishman and a Scott walked into a pub. Each ordered one pint of beer. A fly landed in each and every beer.

The Englishman turned green and pushed his beer away asking for another one.

The Scottsman took the fly out, shrugged and drank his beer.

The Irish man pinched the fly between his fingers and yelled, “SPIT IT OUT! SPIT IT OUT!”

This is courtesy of Not Always Right (thank you, Mara! )

A Smokin’ Deal

(A customer comes to me with a package of brownies with a “Special!” sticker on the top.)

Customer: “Excuse me, miss?”

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “Why are these brownies “special”?”

Me: “They’re the bakery’s special of the week. They’re on sale now through Saturday.”

Customer: “So, there’s nothing different about them?”

Me: “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Customer: *winking* “They’re not…’special’ brownies?”

Me: “Oh! No, sorry, they’re just normal brownies.”

Customer: “Never mind, then.” *sets down the container and walks away*

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

Only the Irish have Jokes Like These

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he’d just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he’s walking with a limp.

“What happened to you?” asks Sean, the bartender.

“Jamie O’Conner and me had a fight,” says Paddy.

“That little shit, O’Conner,” says Sean, “He couldn’t do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.”

“That he did,” says Paddy, “a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin’ he gave me with it.”

“Well,” says Sean, “you should have defended yourself, didn’t you have something in your hand?”

“That I did,” said Paddy. “Mrs. O’Conner’s breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight.”

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An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road. A cop pulls him over.

” So,” says the cop to the driver, where have ya been?”

“Why, I’ve been to the pub of course,” slurs the drunk.

” Well,” says the cop, “it looks like you’ve had quite a few to drink this evening.”

” I did all right,” the drunk says with a smile.

“Did you know,” says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, “that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?”

“Oh, thank heavens,” sighs the drunk. “For a minute there, I thought I’d gone deaf.”

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Brenda O’Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. “Brenda, may I come in?” he asks. “I’ve somethin’ to tell ya”.

“Of course you can come in, you’re always welcome, Tim. But where’s my husband?”

“That’s what I’m here to be telling ya, Brenda.” There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery…”

“Oh, God no!” cries Brenda. “Please don’t tell me.”

“I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I’m sorry.”

Finally, she looked up at Tim. “How did it happen, Tim?”

“It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned.”

“Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me the truth, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?”

“Well, Brenda… no. In fact, he got out three times to pee.”

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Mary Clancy goes up to Father O’ Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she’s in tears.

He says, ” So what’s bothering you, Mary my dear?”

She says, “Oh, Father, I’ve got terrible news . My husband passed away last night.”

The priest says, “Oh, Mary, that’s terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?”

Yes she says, “That he did, Father.”

The priest says, “What did he ask, Mary? ”

She says, He said, ‘Please Mary, put down that damn gun…’

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AND THE BEST FOR LAST

A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk continues to sit there. Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall .

The drunk mumbles, “ain’t no use knockin, there’s no paper on this side either!”

This is a video I’ve seen circulating on Facebook and luckily Uncle Monster also found it on YouTube:

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

A man died and went to heaven. As he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.

He asked, “What are all those clocks?”

St. Peter answered, “Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie the hands on your clock will move.”

“Oh”, said the man. “Whose clock is that?”

“That’s Mother Teresa’s. The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.”

“Incredible”, said the man. “And whose clock is that one?”

St. Peter responded, “That’s Abraham Lincoln’s clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abe told only two lies in his entire life.”

“Where’s President Obama’s clock?”, asked the man.

“Obama’s clock is in Jesus’ office. He’s using it as a ceiling fan.”

I may have posted something similar to this before, but it’s still one of my faves. Courtesy of my mother:

Only Southerners

Only a Southerner knows the difference between a “hissie fit” and a “conniption fit,” and that you don’t “HAVE” them, you “PITCH” them.

Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc…, make up “a mess.”

Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of “yonder.”

Only a Southerner knows exactly how long “directly” is, as in: “Going to town, be back directly.”

Even Southern babies know that “Gimme some sugar” is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table.

All Southerners know exactly when “by and by” is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.

Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a neighbor who’s got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad. If the neighbor’s trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin’!

Only Southerners grow up knowing the difference between “right near” and “a right far piece.” They also know that “just down the road” can be 1 mile or 20.

Only a Southerner, both knows and understands, the difference between a redneck, a good ol’ boy, and po’ white trash.

No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.

A Southerner knows that “fixin” can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adverb.

Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines, … and when we’re “in line,”… we talk to everybody!

Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they’re related, even if only by marriage.

In the South, “y’all” is singular, “all y’all” is plural.

Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.

Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.

When you hear someone say, “Well, I caught myself lookin’,” you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!

Only true Southerners say “sweet tea” and “sweet milk.” Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it — we do not like our tea unsweetened. “Sweet milk” means you don’t want buttermilk.

And a true Southerner knows you don’t scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say, “Bless her heart,” and go your own way.

To those of you who are still a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call me in the morning. Bless your heart!

And to those of you who are still having a hard time understanding all this Southern stuff, … bless your hearts, I hear they are fixin’ to have classes on Southernness as a second language!

And for those that are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, all y’all need a sign to hang on y’all’s front porch that reads “I ain’t from the South, but I got here as fast as I could!”

The emphasis on the tea thing is mine. It never ceases to amaze me how many of my clients don’t understand my passion for good sweet tea.

Moving right along, this funny is courtesy of my pal Don:

Secret Code

After the new president has been in office for 6 months it is customary for the last president to send a note of congratulations to the new one. So when the note came from Bush to Obama, the president was somewhat troubled because it was written in code and all it said was: 370H-SSV-0773H

This troubled him as he had always heard from his peers how former president Bush was perceived to have been scholarly challenged. So he took the note to his wife. She was unable to decipher it.

They called in the VP, and he was unable to decode the message. They called in the chief of staff and the head of the Secret Service detail and they were unable to determine the meaning of the note. Next he called in the head of the Senate and Speaker of the House. They both were mystified by the meaning of the coded message.

Now there was complete panic in the oval office. They called all of their contacts in the media and sent copies of the note to all of them, and not one was able to come up with an answer.

A special emergency meeting was called by the staff.. All branches of the military, counter intelligence, CIA, FBI were called in, and the best minds were unable crack the code. After a sleepless night, a now humbled President Obama picked up the phone and called the former president, and asked him the meaning of the note.

Bush chuckled and replied, “You’re holding the note upside down!”

And last but certainly not least, this funny is courtesy of my Cotillion sister, Kat:

Patriot Microchip

The Patriot Microchip is intended to be implanted in terrorists. The implant is specifically designed to be installed in the forehead. When properly installed it will allow the implantee to speak to God.

It comes in various sizes:

The exact size of the implant will be selected by a well-trained and highly-skilled technician. The implant may or may not be painless …

Side effects, such as headaches and nausea, are temporary. Some bleeding or swelling may occur at the injection site.

Please enjoy the security we provide for you.

Best regards,

The United States Marines

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

Jess, Teresa and I spent yesterday in T’town. We went down there to watch the Tide take on North Texas. Jim was originally supposed to go with us, but he was kind enough to stay home to get our house ready to show to some prospective buyers. (Which, funny enough, he neglected to tell me about until Friday night when I got home and was already mad as a hornet for having spent 2 hours in traffic!)

We picked Teresa up in McCalla and headed down I-59. It rained the entire time. Once we reached Tuscaloosa, finding a parking spot was pretty tricky. The university has taken over some parking lots that were once public to reserve for Tide Pride members. We got lucky and parked by some friends in nearby apartments.

Hooray for friends!

It rained and rained and RAINED. Even though all three of us were wearing ponchos, we were still soaked to the bone. We walked all over the quad, visited various shop tents and after watching the Million Dollar Band do their usual pre-game routine, slowly made our way to Bryant-Denny stadium. It was at this point that it FINALLY quit raining. With the exception of a few drops here or there, the weather was pretty nice for the rest of the day! We made our way into the stadium and up to our seats and tried our best to dry out. About halfway into the game, the sun made its grand entrance.

Of course, the sunscreen I had put on yesterday morning before leaving the house had washed off … so I’m a little sunburned. This is the first game I’ve ever attended where I’ve been soaked and sunburned in the same day! LOL!

It was all a great day of fun though. The Tide looked really good. The halftime show was great. The MDB played a tribute to Motown. IMO the best part was the finale … they played ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson. All of the color guard and dance teams put on some raggedy clothes and danced as zombies like in the original video. It was awesome!!

The Tide won 53-7, so pretty early in the second half a lot of people were leaving. The traffic going home was light compared to every other Bama game I’ve ever attended. We made it home long before dinner time and I happily napped as soon as I could get my tired and weary bones through the door and into the bed.

Today Jess left us to spend the next few days with her mother. She didn’t want to go (not that I blame her) but I tried to assure her that she wouldn’t miss much of the Aion head start and we’d see her again later this week. Our deal is that as long as her grades are up, she can play Aion. So far, that’s proving to be a GREAT motivator as far as school goes!

And speaking of Aion, I was able to get things sorted out with GoGamer. Our Aion packs arrived Friday afternoon. Jim and I ordered the Collector’s Edition, Jessie got the regular (and hers came in a very NICE tin!). Here’s a few pics I snapped that night after opening my box:

Incidentally, if you have also ordered the CE, you will want to read this article by The Aion Guy: How To Receive Your Aion Pre-Order Items!

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved

The Navy Chief & New Guy

The Navy Chief noticed a new seaman and barked at him, “Get over here bilge scum!

What’s your name sailor?”

“John,” the new seaman replied.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of bleeding-heart pansy ass namby pamby crap they’re teaching sailors in boot camp nowdays, but I don’t call anyone by his first name,” the chief scowled. “It breeds familiarity, and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my sailors by their last names only; Smith, Jones, Baker, whatever. And you are to refer to me as ‘Chief’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye, Aye Chief!”

“Now that we’ve got that straight maggot, what’s your last name?”

The seaman sighed. “Darling, My name is John Darling, Chief.”

“Okay, John, here’s what I want you to do …”

The Spoils of War …

A U.S. Marine squad was marching north of Fallujah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road was an American Marine in a similar but less serious state. The Marine was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the squad leader asked the injured Marine what had happened.

The Marine reported, “I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and both took cover in the ditches along the road..

I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable, lowlife scum bag who got what he deserved, and he yelled back that Ted Kennedy is a fat, good-for-nothing, left wing liberal drunk who doesn’t know how to drive. So I said that Osama Bin Laden dresses and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian!

He retaliated by yelling, “Oh yeah? Well, so does Nancy Pelosi!”

“And, there we were, in the middle of the road, shaking hands, when a truck hit us.”

This is a post from Nicki Faulk’s Birthplace of the Process of Illogical Logic

Copyright © Nicki Faulk · All Rights Reserved