Champion Gamer Now Real Life Champion
http://www.dailytech.com/article.aspx?newsid=17035
LOL! Now that’s Funny Sh#t!
MONDAY’S SUCK IN GENERAL … SO HERE ARE A FEW FUNNIES TO GET YOU GOING.
Unconscious Ramblings & Naked Yoga
Just to pre-amble these little tidbits I must remind you that I have Fibromyalgia and have a regime of medications that I am on. I work with my doctor to take the minimum amount necessary to get me through the day. I strive to keep my life as homeopathic as possible. However, one of the main reasons Fibro sufferers have problems is we do not sleep; insomnia will wreck your body. When you do manage to sleep you do not achieve deep sleep [REM] so even though you got some sleep it did not restore your body in any way.
To help with this I have sleep medication that I take each evening. It is the only way I can sleep. I have had Fibro for about 8 years and in the past 4 my condition has worsened. The sleep med’s work a little different in everyone. I have a decent metabolism but I have other conditions that kinda put med’s on a roller coaster so there is no timing the when it will kick in. I have taken my med’s and fallen asleep in less than 15 minutes but I have also taken them and not slept for 2 to 3 days in a row. It is part of the nature of the beast with Fibro. So in an effort to try to keep my life going in some order, I take the med’s at the same time every evening and basically hope for the best.
Its All Greek To Me:
OK this one is a few years back but it still makes me laugh. I have to tell you that when I was little my god/goddess mother would speak Greek to me and I was learning how to answer her pretty well – then we moved to far away to keep up the practice – so I don’t remember much anymore, at least consciously. ***OK I am fully asleep/unconscious – keep in mind that I do not remember any of this – none – Chris told me the next day what had happened.***
This happened right before we got married and were still living in the apartment. The computer /game area desk was sort of at the foot of the bed in our bedroom. I had gone to bed… it was one of Chris’s nights off so as most do he was staying up late. As it was told to me… I sat straight up in bed, my eyes were open and I began to talk – Chris was startled and turned around to see me – I was having a conversation but I wasn’t talking in English. After a few minutes of the Greek conversation I simply laid back down and slept.
I still wonder why he married me after that.
Naked Yoga :
Earlier this year was a mass of medical problems – some of which still haven’t been resolved. We have an active married life. Well after a night of marital relations I woke up and my right side rib cage hurt pretty bad. This is not an unusual occurrence – I actually wake up hurting every day – I keep a yoga mat rolled up by my bed and so my commute to my morning stretching-yoga class is quite short. I usually just roll out of bed and get it over with. I even stretch quite a bit sitting or laying on my side of the bed, just to be able to roll that far.
Anyway, about 10 to 14 days go by and I am still having that pain. I keep telling Chris that I think I dislocated my rib. I get a normal response of “Naw” “How” and such. Well that last morning I just said screw it and after dropping Chris off at work I headed to the doctor’s office. They have an x-ray lab in-house, so I ask to have an x-ray. Sure enough 30 minutes later – It’s a ‘Yes – you dislocated your rib.” Then with great relish, I of course called and told my hubby along with the appropriate “I told you so.”
Of course with any doctor’s visit you get questioned. When he questioned me about how this could have happened, I told him “Naked Yoga”… which of course startled him then he laughed out loud.
Once I was out of the doctor’s office I of course texted all my friends. I don’t’ have a full keyboard and I hate most of the abbreviations… So I texted them… “Dislocated Rib by Naked Yoga”. I have never had so many return phone calls and texts in my life.
What will you do with me Sir?:
About three or four weeks ago, I was sitting at my computer and fell asleep, sitting up of course. Chris noticed that I had fallen asleep in the chair, so he got me up and steered me toward bed. ***OK I am unconscious – keep in mind that I do not remember any of this – none – Chris told me the next day what had happened – I am apparently entertaining even unconscious.*** I have to wash my face and brush my teeth – Chris knows that it is my ritual to do that right before I get into bed and I can be wench about it.
Well, Once he had successfully guided me to our bedroom — I was past the point of being able to wash my own face — so Chris had to wash my face for me. We headed into the bathroom and he got started but before he could wash all the soap off I pushed him aside – proclaimed “done” then stumbled toward bed and I guess just sort of landed on top, fully clothed. Chris wet a washcloth and finished getting the soap off my face. T
Then super-hubby started the tussle/wrestle my pants and clothes off. Have you tried to strip an unconscious form? Chris is strong but dead weight is just that dead weight. It was a combination of being propped up, being able to unconsciously follow instructions [probably pleas and swearing], wrestling something off and tugging me here or there to yank off the item of clothing he was trying to remove. Once we had achieved naked, I asked “Now that I am naked what will you do with me sir?” smiling, then promptly fell fully asleep [I am sure more of a coma like state].
Zen Master:
***OK I am unconscious – keep in mind that I do not remember any of this – none – Chris told me the next day what had happened – I am apparently entertaining even unconscious.***
OK last night. Once again Chris was at his computer and I at mine. He had a headset on because he was playing a game and I get irritated with the repetitive sound effects. Well out of the blue I yell – or say loudly “Chris, Chris, Chris!” He takes off the head set and looks at me. I am sitting crossed legged in my computer chair – eyes closed – arms placed on my knees with my hands in that meditation like pose and announce, “ I have found a place of Zen – I pushed all my Chi to my stomach – I can feel it.” …… He told me that he thought – ‘Monks spend 50 years trying to find that place of Zen. My wife pops two pills and finds it. It was at that point when he knew I had either taken my meds or the crazy had finally slipped out.
A few minutes later he hears “Oh Shit – I spilled wine on my shirt” — of course he turns to look and I tell him “it’s ok it’s just a little bit.” I had been nursing a glass of cabernet while I browsed the net.
Chris decides to get up for something – probably a cigarette break which he does outside not in the house. He stepped to go around my chair and felt the ground was wet. He turned on the overhead light and saw a splatter of wine –sort of spill cast off on the carpet. He grabs a cloth and cleaner to wipe it up. I had also spilled a little on the edge of the chair I was sitting in. When he started cleaning I got out of the chair and sat down on the floor next to him.
While he was In the middle of cleaning I just laid down into his lap. He says “Jax I am not done cleaning” I reply “I’m tired” He states “ you’re sitting on a spot” to which I reply “ I don’t care”
We got up and Chris steered me toward bed. I told him I needed shower, he just informed me tomorrow was soon enough. I got cleaned up and he hovered while I did – you tend to have some balance issues with the meds we had no plans for an ER visit because I cracked my head open.
Ok I told him to get out and come back in a few ~ I am always trying to get into his pants. After a few minutes he came back in and got ready for bed himself. He crawled into bed and snuggled up to me. I asked “Are you going to do dastardly things to me?” then promptly fell asleep and began to hiccup with a slight snore.
******************
When Chris told me today what I had done last night I had to share. I laughed out loud and made him tell me every detail. LMAO! He is so great at taking care of me and I am certain it is not very fun when it is happening. However, when he tells me it is always with a perplexed smile and a good sense of play. We have been a team for quite a time now and he is the best partner you could ask for. We have spent quite some time trying to time the medication but finally just gave up. So due to that we just get to have an interesting story to tell every now and them
I Love You, Sweet. Thanks for taking care of me.
EXPRESSIONS FOR HIGH STRESS DAYS & THE BEST SIGN IN A STORE EVER
1. You – Off my planet.
2. Not the brightest crayon in the box now, are we?
3. Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.
4. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
5. And your cry-baby whiny-assed opinion would be…?
6. I’m not crazy, I’ve just been in a very bad mood for 30 years.
7. Allow me to introduce my selves.
8. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
9. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
10. I’m just working here until a good fast-food job opens up.
11. I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
12. Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you weren’t asleep.
13. I can’t remember if I’m the good twin or the evil one.
14. How many times do I have to flush before you go away?
15. I just want revenge. Is that so wrong?
16. You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.
17. Can I trade this job for what’s behind door #2?
18. Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
19. Chaos, panic, and disorder-my work here is done.
20. Earth is full. Go home.
21. Is it time for your medication or mine?
22. How do I set a laser printer to stun?
23. I’m not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.
THE BEST SIGN IN A STORE EVER!!!!!
HELL EXPLAINED BY A CHEMISTRY STUDENT
*** Just struck me… so Had to share…. lol
The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington
chemistry mid term.
Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs
heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas
cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need
to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which
they are leaving I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to
Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many
souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist
in the world today.
Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their
religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these
religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can
project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are,
we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now,
we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law
states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the
same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter
Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all
Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in
Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year
that, ‘It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,’ and take
into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two
must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already
frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen
over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore,
extinct……leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine
being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.
Talking about Cool for cats
Thanks Fruedian Tits for this one…
This is too funny
“Former New Yorker’s Guide to the Texas Adjustment”
A former New Yorker’s guide to the Texas adjustment
“And all over the world, strangers talk only about the weather. All over the world, it’s the same, it’s the same, it’s the same.”
-Tom Waits
For the past week, there’s been much in the news about a Major Heat Wave that has gripped our nation. Living in San Antonio as long as I have (a week shy of two years), I feel I’ve earned the right to dismiss it. When you spend the eternal summer months waking up to the KSAT weather guy’s chirpy promise of “another sizzler,” your life starts to feel like Groundhog Day and you lose patience with the plaintive cries of East Coasters enduring 90-degree temperatures. Wusses! I emailed as much to a friend in New York, but she put me in my place: “Yes, it is hotter in Texas, but you are equipped to deal with it. NYC is so Third-World.”
Fair enough. I remember the days when my apartment resembled a magical forest of oscillating fans. When a “WE HAVE AC” sign in the window of an otherwise crappy restaurant pretty much guaranteed that I’d be eating there. So how can I complain? I may live on the surface of the sun, but at least I’ve got central air. Still, no one can deny that the San Antonio summer is a soul-sucking experience, and whoever came up with that “If you don’t like the weather in Texas, wait five minutes — it’ll change” line must not have spent any time in the Alamo City. Here, a more apt slogan might be “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes — it gets worse.” Or, “wait five years — you’ll get used to it and start doing weird things like wearing jeans in July.”
Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.
Last summer I went to a backyard cocktail party and it was as hot and horrible as you might expect, particularly since San Antonio’s famous “breeze” was doing what all sensible residents are doing at this time of year — vacationing in Vancouver. Prepared for the worst, I dressed accordingly, in a sundress and flip-flops, though I knew well enough that nothing short of encasement in a human-sized beer Koozie (the kind you keep in the freezer) would make the slightest bit of difference in my suffering. I met two fellow New York City transplants at this party, who were fresh off the boat and obviously already broken by the heat. These two innocents were wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts. I pitied their haplessness. They didn’t seem to understand that a child-friendly backyard cocktail party really would be held in the backyard because that’s where the playscape and small motorized vehicles were located. And though I’ve seen suburbanites attempt to transform their backyards into “extensions of their indoor living spaces” by installing fancy outdoor kitchens, ceiling fans, and mysterious mosquito-eradication systems, I have yet to see a backyard that is actually air-conditioned.
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| If you don’t like the weather, wait five years -you’ll get used to it. |
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At the time of this sweaty cocktail party, I’d lived in SA for a year and thought I knew the secret to dressing for success in a bi-seasonal climate: Wear as little clothing as is dignified and always have a cardigan on hand for the meat-locker temperatures generally found indoors. But after another year of anthropological fieldwork, I’ve made this perplexing discovery: It’s actually the tourists and transplants who wear shorts and T-shirts in summer; the natives all seem to wear long pants and long sleeves. And when the calendar autumn begins and the thermometer holds steady in the upper 90s, real San Antonians bust out their tweedy jackets and cashmere turtlenecks. Back east, I would call this “back-to-school syndrome”- the uncontrollable urge to wear a Fair Isle sweater the Tuesday following Labor Day no matter the temperature. But here I just call it crazy.
I recently confronted a seemingly rational friend on this subject. She hails from a frigid northern state, but has lived in Texas for 20 years. When I met up with her on a typically insufferable Friday night in July, she was wearing a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and, more vexingly, jeans — form-fitting, custom-made jeans. I was jealous. How can you stand it? I asked. I mean, is there anything stickier and more heat-trapping than denim? She just laughed and said she figured that her blood had finally thinned to the point where she could say she’d truly turned Texan.
Sweating in my summer uniform of skirt/camisole/flip-flops/cardigan-stuffed-in-a-bag, I wondered if my blood would ever thin — and whether that would be a good thing. Did I want to turn Texan? It would be nice to wear jeans for more than two or three months out of the year. It would be nice to wear the 70 percent of my wardrobe that’s been mothballed since I moved to San Antonio. I used to think that the moment I would know I’d finally reconciled myself to living here permanently would be when I decide to sell all my vintage overcoats, Icelandic sweaters, and furry hats on eBay. But I’m starting to see things more clearly: If I’m here for the long haul, I don’t need to sell a thing. And only when I can wear boots and cute woolly tights on a sultry day in September will I be able to call myself a real San Antonian.
This is my Dream Car!
A few pics for a few laughs.
Jacquline Anderson
Artistry Jax Deviant Art Gallery
