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Kevin Bacon Game - Link any movie star to Kevin Bacon
My Sister's page
McMurrin Family Page
www.zazzle.com
You know you are from southern california if .......
Your monthly house payments exceed your annual income.
You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don't notice.
You don't know anyone's phone number unless you check your cell phone.
You speak Spanish, but you're not Mexican.
You begin to "lie" to your friends about how close you are when you know well that it'll take you at least an hour to get there (see below).
Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about "twenty minutes".
You drive to your neighborhood block party.
In the "winter", you can go to the beach and ski at Big Bear on the same day.
You eat a different ethnic food for every meal.
If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you're definitely driving.
Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.
You know what In N Out is and feel bad for all the other states because they don't have any.
You don't stop at a STOP sign, you do a California Roll.
You really can never be too rich or too thin or too tan.
You go to a tanning salon before going to the beach.
Your cell phone has left a permanent impression on the side of your head.
You think that Venice is a beach.
The waitress asks if you'd like "carbs" in your meal.
You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An "818" would never date a "562" and anyone from "323" or "213" is ghetto/second class. Best area code: "714." Nobody likes anyone from the "909" because it stinks there.
You call 911 and they put you on hold.
You have a gym membership because it's mandatory.
The gym is packed at 3pm...on a workday.
You think you are better than the people who live "Over the Hill". It doesn't matter which side of the hill you are currently residing, you are just better than them, for whatever reason.
You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald's or a Starbucks.
You know what "sigalert", "PCH", and "the five" mean.
You can't remember . . . is pot illegal?
It's barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station:"STORM WATCH"
The Terminator is your governor.
How long could a human survive without water?
The average person can live for about eleven days without water. Without food, the average person would survive about a month. More important than either of these things is sleep! Just ten days without sleep would be deadly to most people.
What food sustains two-thirds of the world's people?
The same food that television's "Survivors" ate: rice. Archeological evidence suggests that rice has been cultivated as an important food source for more than five thousand years. It is the staple food for two-thirds of the world's population.
Jack wakes up with a huge hangover after attending his company's Party.
Jack is not normally a drinker, but the drinks didn't taste like alcohol at all. He didn't even remember how he got home from the party.
As bad as he was feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong.
Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table.
And, next to them, a single red rose!
Jack sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed. He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house. He takes the aspirins, cringes when he sees a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.
Then he notices a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick:
"Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to get groceries to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling!
Love, Jillian"
He stumbles to the kitchen and sure enough, there is hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the morning newspaper. His son is also at the table, eating.
Jack asks, "Son... what happened last night?"
"Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and out of your mind.
You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door."
Confused he asked his son, "So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean?
I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me??"
His son replies, "Oh THAT!... Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed,
"Leave me alone, lady, I'm married!"
Broken Coffee Table $39.99
Hot Breakfast $4.20
Two Aspirins $.38
Saying the right thing, at the right time . . PRICELESS!!!
Why Women Are Crabby
We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Then it' was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards
night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.
Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push (more like 10)," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %*#!* (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb
bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing,life-sucking little poop machines.
Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?
When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.
So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.
Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks...
So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great
Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right.
Bite me.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
