http://www.snopes.com/fraud/distress/valentin.asp Russian scammer's annual message appeals for money to help a struggling single mother and her daughter.
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[Black] Columbia Professor Punches [White] Woman
FROM THE ARTICLE: "McIntyre was released without bail at his arraignment last night."
Would you say that the Manhattan police were behaving stupidly, Mr. President? I wonder if I could slug a black female and walk away with zero bail. Ahhhhhh, white privilege.
*~*~* ka-pow, white devil! *~*~*
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Do not count the things you have done for someone.
Instead, count the number of times you felt better because you made them happy.
^____^
i got my registration card yesterday.
my sched:
MONDAY-SATURDAY
Dec-prelims
Jan-midterms
Feb-Finals
Mar-comprehensive and qualitative exams and graduation ceremony(finally)
Board exam??-irdk
i hate the way they deliver the TCAP review.they want to kill us.
oh and i've not completed my cases yet.i still need at least 26 cases.3 minors, 23 majors(and i wanna handle them each(blood and flesh and blood), not just "observed and given" argh).then they'll just give us 5 rotations?Seriously?srsly??
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http://www.somethingpositive.net/sp11102009.shtml
If there are any problems with the comic or website, or if you have any questions, comments, or complaints you would like to address directly to Randy, please email him at choochoobear@gmail.com.
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i can drink milk again. after several years. this suggests to me that i didn't eat the poo-bacteria in dirty-old-asia at all, but when i was at exchange school in dirty-old-europe in 2005/6, most likely somewhere in dirty old poland. the whole time i thought i was "lactose intolerant" i was just tolerating something in my intestines that really didn't like milk, and had i gone to the doctor ever in the last 4 years for antibiotics i would have been cured!
i feel better than i have in a long time and am still waiting to wake up and be back in the land of milk-pain.
another example of: the internet is not a doctor.
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When you laugh into my hair and nuzzle my scalp with your lips, I can feel your affection soaking my senses. Your soft voice penetrates my consciousness, jerking me to a place that I never knew could exist. Your fingers caress the ebony and ivory of the piano, bringing forth sounds of astonishing beauty, endearing me to you even more. Your punctuality, so unlike the modern carelessness, stirs my heart into wakefulness and casts my thoughts to you every moment of my day.
You take my hand and stare deeply into my eyes. Your breath, sweetly scented, tickle my skin. This isn't right, it's not proper, it's not allowed, but you love me and you cannot help yourself. I would rather spend the night on a bed of nails than to betray your beloved, but your sensitivity weakens me and renders me powerless. In the night I turn restlessly, my heart never ceasing to pound anxiously. I cannot wait for every new encounter.
The sun pulls water at the end of the day, sinking a low purple on the horizon, soon an amorphous smudge of golden paint. I stand on the balcony of my humble beach abode, gently swirling a glass of cabarnet under my nose, the breeze yanking my hair backward. You come up behind me and slide your arms around my waist, your face buried in my neck. I would not give up these moments for all the money in the world. We are not supposed to be here, my love, we are not supposed to even touch. Sweet lies. When I think of speaking the truth, I start to tremble and wane. I cannot give you up, I need you.
I try to shift my thoughts. I think of myself in the past, the present, and the future.
A squeal, and the bloody nakedness of your firstborn sees the light. You gasp for breath, then smile as the wrinkled red bundle is deposited into your waiting arms. Eighteen years of toiling lay ahead like a mountain, but the mountain is flat. You can walk it barefoot, can endure all the thorns and scrapes, for you know that the end result speaks of courage, love, and devotion.
The scent of freshly-mown grass lingers in your nostrils, evoking memories of the old house. A big house, a proper house, with a yard and animals and a pond with a bridge across. You used to fling yourself face-down upon the soft earth, breathing in the scent of mud and insects. A small white dog ambled up and affectionately licked your mouth, happily ignorant of your feeble protests. You hugged the dog and whispered into its fur. Now nothing but mere ground bone in a small rotten coffin, it rests in a corner of the new garden, where you visit it every day, sad but not broken, longing but not melancholy.
You stand before a full -length mirror in your pink wedding garb (to wear white would be to fib to the world, not least of all to yourself) your hair intricately wound, your lips sparkling, your eyes heavily kohl-ed. The dress hugs your hips and spirals tightly downward to fan out at the ankles. Picture pretty. Ready. Giving over to another in graciousness and in fairness.
Spring blossoms and Autumn brittle, Winter roses and Summer skies. They all mean something special; sweet scents of roses and fireplaces, days of red wine and reading, laying on your back to watch the scudding clouds gather and blow past to gather elsewhere and weep.
Now I turn back and gaze at you in wonder. How did we get here? No, I cannot give you up. Not when you are my only protection from damnation.
"But who, my love," you ask simply and without rancour, "will protect you from me?"
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I feel really nervous, my mother's making me very tense. She's in a foul mood today! Just her presence in the house is making me feel uneasy, I hate the way she treats our cat too. I know she cares for her and I know our cat gets in the way a lot (she's not very aware of others, she will stand right behind you as you cook or something despite the danger of getting stepped on)... so, I can understand.
( More on the Mother + Cat issue. )
My headache is still present, these pills are most definitely not working for me at the moment. I just have to try my best to keep my headache at this low level to avoid any incidents like yesterday. I'm kind of worried about it now 'cause I have an induction day on the 14th! What if I feel nauseous then? It'll be so embarrassing!! Just want this headache-ness to go, so that I will be 100% sure it won't interefere with these kinds of things. I'm sure I'll be fine, just fretting for no reason...
I briefly touched upon speaking to my boyfriend yesterday. Ahh~ I really enjoyed our conversation. It was about negative things, but we were speaking about it positively. He was helping me think about my worries, how to shake them off. Really helpful. I'm so glad I can speak to him, as some things I just feel so silly about. I don't want to talk to anyone about them! But he always makes me feel comfortable about it, so I forget how stupid I feel admitting to the issues.
I'm getting it all out of my system though! I'm letting out all these things I haven't shared with others in order to move on from them. Pretty proud of myself, if I'm honest. I wouldn't have ever dared to speak about Vaginismus, for example. But I joined a community on here and feel so~ much better. It's nice to share it with people who can relate, as well as speak to others about it if it's relevant or something. Yeah~ My life is moving on in a swell manner, I think.
On another note, I now realise the degree to which I am not used to having new Userpics. It's so bizarre. Only the first day though!
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http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cock%20block&defid=95390
One who prevents another from scoring sexually.
Trudy and Dan frequently had time alone but her cockblocking roommate ruined any chances they had to have sex.
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It makes no difference why the chicken crossed the road. The fact of the matter is that the chicken is ironed onto the pavement and it’s too late for explanations. Gallus gallus domesticus…gone gone deadicus. It’s for the best anyway. After all, before the swine came the bird flu- a possible pandemic producing mass panic. Don’t ask questions, it only makes sense that its squawk be silenced. Try not to gawk.
But gawk is what we do. It’s human nature. Last year, I was responsible for the death of 14 baby chickens. My second grade class was incubating eggs for the local 4-H group. These eggs would later turn into eight piece McNugget meals but I didn’t mention that to my students. They were just expecting fuzzy balls of yellow fluff. We knew we were right on track to experience the joys of chickenhood as the first egg began pipping. Others followed. The weekend came. Avoidable tragedy struck and each one of our feathery friends turned into an individual muck of yellow yuck. No tears were shed. Instead, everyone stopped and stared…adults included. Because dead chickens are fascinating.
There were no tears shed for John Mohammed either. This D.C. sniper from 2002 was executed earlier this evening. His last meal was chicken. With red sauce.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-11-10-sniper_N.htm
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http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,573085,00.html?test=latestnews
I wish I had something I had to find all kinds of clever hiding places for. Maybe when the government becomes a little more "protective of the children" they will ban something I want to look at.
At this point I would just like to again mention that I don't remember any specific government oppression during the Bush administration, patriot act and all, but there was a daily event under the Clinton administration that made me want to take to the hills with a high power rifle next to the anti government maniacs.
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