Guests are on their way over for Thanksgiving dinner.  

 

Quick!  It's  time to booby-trap the medicine cabinet with marbles!

Quoted from Rick's Place ... a blog by Rick Schoen

EXCERPTS FROM THE DIARY OF A CAT

Sunday, 28. June 2009, 19:43:45



Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.


They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.


The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.


Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.


There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.


Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.


I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.


The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.........

I was talking to a friend in Europe earlier today, and was reminded of a funny story...


In the mid 1990's (during a previous life and a previous marriage) I lived in beautiful Gelnhausen, Germany.




Background information:

• To receive mail in Germany, you must first register at a government office.  (Similar to a city hall.)

• My German is bad.  I liken my ability to that of a 2-year old; generally I can get my point across but rarely is it grammatically correct. 

Now that you have the basic background information, let the story begin....


As I entered the town office to register for mail, I found myself in the presence of a friendly older gentleman.  He was the only one in the office, and apparently things were slow that day...so he stopped to chat with me for a while.


He did not speak English, and I speak very little German, but with some patience we managed to strike up a long conversation. As I filled out the paperwork and paid the registration fee, he told me about his only daughter's upcoming wedding and showed me her photographs.


We talked of many things that afternoon, of family and traveling, of food and the local area.  And, we talked about what it is like to be far from home.



He asked about my German last name, if my family was from Germany... Smiling, I told him he was correct.  My father's grandfather was born there.


He asked if I knew which city?  I told him it was Chemnitz (in eastern Germany, near Dresden and just west of the Czech border.)





He smiled and told me he suspected as much... and serenaded me with an old German song about the prettiest girls coming from the east...


Then he asked if I knew my great-grandfather's name and the year he emigrated to America?"  I knew both.


We talked for a short time longer, before I had to go.


A few weeks later, I received my first German letter.  It was official correspondence from the German government, and far beyond my reading level. 


I took the letter to my German neighbor, asking her to translate.  As she read, she burst into laughter.... asking me just what I said when I registered for my mail?


It turns out the letter was an official invitation to turn in my American passport.  I was to bring it to a specific office to make the trade for a German one, and reclaim my German birthright.  Apparently Germany has a repatriation law that allows people who can prove German heritage to return to the homeland.


It would seem that my German is worse than I thought: the man from that government office had filled out the paperwork on my behalf after our conversation.  To this day I have always wondered if he was just trying to be nice, or if it was something I said?



Please be my guest as long as you include this complete blurb with it:

This article was originally featured on RioDancesOnTheSand.com, a blog for the thinking person... Written by Rio Denali, a 30-something with peculiar curiosities, who makes the observations that many of us avoid. Full of useful links and entertaining articles, it is a fun favorite for the intelligent reader. For more great articles like this, please visit RioDancesOnTheSand.com.

Chicken yells, "Don't do it Man! You'll never hear the end of it!"

I would like to take a moment to thank my old friend, Jack Daniels, for the many years of companionship and dating advice . . .

 

                                                                         -  Rio Denali

 

 

Cierra Brewster (one of the wittiest people I know) sent this my way...

Originally found on AngryJulieMonday.com

Why spelling is so important....This was written by a 3rd grader.  

Written by Rio Denali

Isn't it interesting that we are universally offended to be judged by our race, gender, nationality, and ethnic background, but we welcome being judged by our birth date?


If I wrote here that all people of X race are impulsive, quick-tempered, passionate, and vengeful--I would violate every social and political rule that exists.


Now, replace X race with Scorpios, and my judgments are welcomed in polite society, even enjoyed and sought after for entertainment or guidance. Why is a judgment based on a birthday considered wisdom, rather than discrimination or prejudice?


I am not commenting on the accuracy or inaccuracy of Astrology, only that it is ironic that in our society where pre-conceived judgments about a person are taboo, a practice of marking a person based on the day they were born is socially acceptable.


Don't like my observation? It's probably because I am a Scorpio....we are confrontational you know.

Want to reprint this article?

Please be our guest as long as you include this complete blurb with it:

This article was originally featured on RioDancesOnTheSand.com, a blog for the thinking person... Written by Rio Denali, a 30-something with peculiar curiosities, who makes the observations that many of us avoid. Full of useful links and entertaining articles, it is a fun favorite for the intelligent reader. For more great articles like this, please visit RioDancesOnTheSand.com.

Written by Rio Denali

 

Garran, Australia

 

Imagine lying in your bed beside your spouse when the most unthinkable happens:  a home invasion.

 

At 2:00 am a suburban Australian couple were awoken to a night they would never forget.  Their bedroom window was smashed as an intruder came barreling through.  A dark figure landed on their bed and began trampling them with such force that one side collapsed under the weight.

 

Only half awake, Beat Ettlin and his wife Verity Beaman had no idea was going on in their bedroom. “I thought it was a lunatic ninja coming at us through the window,” said Beat. “I just couldn’t comprehend what was going on.”



Beat was initially relieved to discover it was "only" a kangaroo, but that relief was short-lived.


The kangaroo had apparently been in the couple's backyard, which butts up to a wildlife preserve,  and gotten scared by the family dog's bark.  It jumped into black space, trying to escape - however that black space 5 feet off the ground was the couple's bedroom window.


The kangaroo jumped on the bed and nightstand, gouging the headboard and wall, and smearing blood everywhere before seeing the open bedroom door as an escape, and headed down the hall.  The instantaneous relief Beat felt to see the kangaroo go -- quickly turned to horror has he heard his terrified son screaming down the hall:  "There's a 'roo in my room!"

“That was enough for me,” Ettlin said, “I thought I have to do something about it. There is no way I can let him jump in there and hurt my son."

A kangaroo attack is no laughing matter.  Kangaroos can be deadly.  While human attack is rare, a kangaroo can easily kill a human with their powerful hind legs or  even disembowel them with razor-sharp claws.  Any Australian will know, a man should never take on a kangaroo.

Good thing Beat wasn't from Australia.  He's a Swiss-born chef, who could think of nothing but the screams of his 10-year old boy.  So, the 5 foot 9 inch father, clad only in his underwear, ran down the hall and jumped on the back of the 6 foot mad marsupial. 

Beat wrestled the animal to the floor.  After putting Roo in a choke hold, Beat kept it low to the ground and pulled it toward the front door. "He knew that kangaroos carry their strength on their hind legs,"  Beman said.

“I had to push with my full body weight and I got him as low as I could. It was quite aggressive and tried to escape of course. I could feel how powerful it was," said Beat.

Ettlin was able to open the front door with one hand and push the animal outside. It was then the kangaroo bolted away and vanished into the bushes.

So, what do you do if a kangaroo goes after your kid in his bed?  If you're Beat Ettlin, you wrestle the marsupial into a headlock, drag it down your hallway and toss it out your front door.  You save your kid and you do it in your underpants.

Would you like to reprint this article?  

Please be our guest as long as you include this complete blurb with it:

This article was originally featured on RioDancesOnTheSand.com, a blog for the thinking person... Written by Rio, a 30-something with peculiar curiosities, who makes the observations that many of us avoid. Full of useful links and entertaining articles, it is a fun favorite for the intelligent reader. For more great articles like this, please visit RioDancesOnTheSand.com.

"When a man's best friend is his dog, that dog has a problem."

-Edward Abbey

Very funny Scotty!!?

  Now beam down my clothes!