Promises...Promises...

I know I promised to write about feet today as a member of HBDC.

And when I made this promise, I intended to keep it; I expected my hectic life to slow down, but it hasn't...

I guess I could tell you about G-man's ingrown toe-nail on the big toe of his right foot - but that is pretty gross.

And I could tell you that tonight is the first high school football game for many schools in our area, including the Willoughby South Rebels - but nothing funny there...

I could tell you about the 5000 feet of toilet paper that I found in my yard this morning; wrapped around the trees, bushes, deck, and car....thank you WS cheerleaders:)

I could tell you about how I have been plagued with plantar fasciitis in my left foot lately.
Not sure how I got that as (after some limited research) I discovered that it most often affects joggers, tennis players, policemen, and those with gonorrhea...

But I really do not have time to blog today...instead, I must get off of my lunch break and continue my great feat of releasing a shitload of docs for Peyton PHlaCe....

Lesson for the day...

This lesson was passed on to me from a pre-school (for the gifted) teacher.

On his 74th birthday, a man got a gift certificate from his wife for a free visit to a medicine man living on a nearby Indian reservation. This particular medicine man was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.

Wanting to keep his wife happy, the old man decided to redeem his certificate...

During his visit, the medicine man gave the birthday boy a vial full of a sweet-smelling liquid and these instructions:

"This is powerful medicine and it must be respected. You must take only one teaspoonful and then say '1-2-3'. When you do that, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life and you will be able to perform for a very long time."

"How long is long? When will the medicine stop working?" the old man questioned.

"One dose will allow you to perform until your partner has had enough and says '1-2-3-4,' repled the healer. "And then, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."

Eager to see if the magic medicine would actually work, the old man hurried home, showered, shaved, and took his first dose; he then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom.

When she came in, he took off his clothes and said:

"1-2-3!"

Immediately, he was the manliest of 74-year old men.

His wife was so excited to see his sudden burst of manliness that she started tearing off her own clothes.

"Ooooh, baby, now that's what I'm talking about...but what was the 1-2-3 for?"

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition because we could end up with a dangling participle.

Bragging Rights:)

Watch and enjoy...


High school football preview: Rich year for running backs (video) - The News-Herald Sports : Breaking news coverage for Northern Ohio



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Would you get this job?

The following is a moral/ethical dilemma that was once used as part of a job application:
You are driving down the road in your car on a wild, stormy night, when you pass by a bus stop and you see three people waiting for the bus:

• An old lady who looks as if she is about to die.
• An old friend who once saved your life.
• The perfect partner you have been dreaming about.

Which one would you choose to offer a ride to, knowing that there could only be one passenger in your car?

• Would you pick up the old lady, because she is going to die, and you feel you should save her?
• Would you take the old friend who once saved your life? This is the perfect chance for pay back.
• Or, would you take your perfect mate because, well, how often does that chance come along?

The candidate who was hired (out of 200 applicants) gave the following answer:

I would give the car keys to my old friend and let him take the lady to the hospital. I would stay behind and wait for the bus with the partner of my dreams.

The moral? Sometimes, we gain more if we are able to give up our stubborn thought limitations. We need to be able to 'Think Outside the Box.'

I got this story in an email from one of the other candidates for the position. He still believes he had the better answer and should have been hired.

I would have to run the old lady over and put her out of her misery because Obama's health care won't pay for her; I would then have mad, passionate sex with the perfect partner on the hood of the car; and then I would drive off with the old friend for a few beers.