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Because I *am* the QNotKU (and you're not)

*bleah*

Teri

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WITH NINE YOU GET VANYR, coming Winter 2006 from Samhain Publishing

*bleah*

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I have pneumonia. Pronounced "pee-new-moan-ya" earlier by my granddaughter in an attempt to cheer me up. *checks* Nope, sorry Bree, didn't work. Dammit.

Anywho, thought I'd drop a line and let folks know I actually am alive, I just feel like a hairball the cat spat out. Finding out that I've been neatly excised from someone's emails, IMs and LJs -- someone who I'd thought was a close friend (and have no clue why she dropped me like a hot potato) -- isn't helping with my depression much either.

Man. I wish I could have a drink. But I can't, so maybe you guys could try and cheer me up? Tell me a funny story or bad joke or something. ANYTHING. I need a smile or two.


Drooping like a wilted petunia,
T
  • Music...

    S.J. is playing Please Let me Die, by the Nowhere's

    Does that cheer you up?

    Hugs
    S.J.
  • Awww. :( I hope you feel better soon. Meanwhile, here is a lame joke:

    A guy walks into a bar with an octopus. He sits the octopus down on a stool and tells everyone in the bar that this is a very talented octopus. He can play any musical instrument in the world. He hears everyone in the crowd laughing at him, calling him an idiot, etc. So he says that he will wager $50 to anyone who has an instrument that the octopus can't play.

    A guy walks up with a guitar and sets it beside the octopus. The octopus starts playing better than Jimi Hendrix, just rippin' it up. So the man pays his $50. Another guy walks up with a trumpet. The octopus plays the trumpet better than Dizzie Gillespie. So the man pays his $50. Then a Scotsman walks up with bagpipes. He sits them down and the octopus fumbles with it for a minute and sits it down with a confused look.

    "Ha!" the Scot says. "Can't you play it?"

    The octopus looks up at him and says, "Play it? I'm going to screw it as soon as I figure out how to get its pajamas off."
    • LOL! Suddenly I have this vision of an octopus doing his best Pepe LePew impression: "Come to me, my little turtledove..."

      Thanks sweetie.

      Much appreciated.

      T
  • I just had pneumonia 2 weeks ago. What I'd like to know is when the horrible tiredness ends.

    Here is my joke for you--

    A pirate walks into a bar with a giant wheel attached to the front of his pants. And the bartender says, dude. What's up with that wheel on your pants? And then the pirates says-- ARRR! It's driving me nuts!
    • *groan* LOL!

      As for the tiredness -- I don't know. Why don't we go take a nap and think about it...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz


      T
  • (no subject) -
    • Have you seen that commercial where the granny and a little girl are racing to eat their Oreos? (In the correct and approved mode of battle, natch) LOL, my kids and I used to do that all the time. Unlike that granny, I never won, not even once!

      hugs,
      Teri
  • Oh, I'm so sorry that you have pneumonia. I hope that you're feeling better soon. And this won't make you feel much better, but if that person could cut you off so completely without an explanation, then they're not anybody's friend. ~hugs~

    Hmm, this is a bit long, but it's one of my favorite jokes:

    A little old lady went into the Bank of America, carrying a large, threadbare satchel. She told a teller that she wanted to open a savings account, but insisted upon speaking to the president of the bank because "I have a lot of money in my bag."

    The teller told the woman that she could open the account for her, but the woman insisted that she must speak with the bank president. Finally, the teller relented, and after much hemming and hawing, the woman was ushered into the president's office.

    The bank president asked the lady how much she would like to deposit. She replied, "$200,000," and dumped the cash out of her bag onto his desk.

    The president was surprised at the money scattered over his desk. "Ma'am, I can't believe that you're carrying so much cash around," he said. "Where did you get this money?"

    The woman waved her hand dismissively. "I make bets."

    The president's eyebrows shot up. "Bets? What kind of bets?"

    The old woman said, "Well, for example, I'll bet you $25,000 that your balls are square."

    The bank president almost choked with laughter. "You can't win anything making that kind of bet."

    "Oh, I don't know," the old woman said. "I think I can. Will you take the bet?"

    The president nodded. "Sure, I'll take that bet. It will be the easiest $25,000 that I ever made."

    The little old lady said, "Okay, but since we're betting a lot of money here, I' want to be certain. I want my lawyer present and since I've learned that looks can be deceiving, I want to touch them - just once - so that I can be certain of whether they're really square or not."

    The president hesitated, but finally agreed. "But only in the privacy of my office. You bring your lawyer here tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Then you can expect to pay me $25,000."

    "Done," the lady replied.

    That night, the president was very nervous about the bet and spent a long time in front of a mirror checking his balls, turning from side to side again and again. He thoroughly checked until he was sure that there was absolutely no way his balls were square and that he would win the bet.

    The next morning, precisely at 10:00 am, the little old lady and her lawyer knocked on the bank president's office door. She introduced the lawyer to the president and repeated the bet: "$25,000 says your balls are square!"

    The president agreed with the bet again, and the old lady asked him to drop his pants so they could all see. The president complied. The little old lady peered closely at his balls, and then reminded him that she was going to touch them.

    "Okay," said the president, "but be quick about it."

    At that moment, the lawyer began to quietly bang his head against the wall.

    The president asked the old lady, "What's the matter with your lawyer?"

    She reached out and grasped the president's testicles and replied, "Nothing, except I bet him $100,000 that by 10:30 today, I'd have the president of the Bank of America by the balls."
    • *hugs scatteredlogic Thanks, sweetie. I think I needed to be reminded of that.

      As for your joke....ROFLOLMAOPIP! Hehehehe, I think I'm going to send that one to my BIL.

      hugs,
      T
  • Ooh, rotten. :(

    *hug*

    Here, the worst joke I know:

    Two muffins are in an oven...one looks at the other and says, "Is it getting hot in here?"

    The other muffin goes "AAAAH! TALKING MUFFIN!"

    Feel better...another *hug*

    Moggy
    • Thanks sweetie. Have fun with the Stones!

      hugs,
      T *who really expects to see pics on Moggy and Von's LJ after the concert*
  • *bleah*

    I have been learning French:

    `moi aussi' - `I am an Australian.'
    `entrechat' - `the cat comes in'
    `pas de deux' - `father of two'
    `hors de combat' - `I only do it with soldiers'
    `pain de chocolat' - `it really hurts when I eat a Snickers'
    `les miserables' - `unhappy gay women'
    `cafe noir' - `darkened restaurant'
    `bistro' - `gravy thickening' (SJ will have to explain that one to you)


    Hope you feel better soon.
    Big hugs,

    hutch





    • Re: *bleah*

      HA! I know what Bisto is! I like it! Right now the Brit would give his left nut for a pork pie. Why, I have no idea, not having any special fondness for Spam in a Crust, but I guess if you're British...

      huggles,
      Teri
      • Re: *bleah*

        A proper Melton Mowbray pork pie, as you'd know if you'd ever encountered one, is a work of art. Not Spam In A Crust. These things are important. Also sausage rolls.
  • *bleah*

    My apologies: that should read `fathers of two.'
    • Re: *bleah*

      Once an editor, always an editor....

      I lubs you, brother mine.

      T
  • *bleah*

    That should also be `pain au chocolat.' I should have written these down on a bit of paper and looked at them for a while first...
    • Re: *bleah*

      Once a forgetful Brit, always a forgetful Brit. You know something? I'm DYING to meet your wife. Oh the stories she could tell me...


      hehehe,
      Teri
      • Re: *bleah*

        I think the two of you would get on like a house on fire. Unfortunately, when the two of you do meet I'll have to be in another room. Or another building. Or city. Or country...
  • (no subject) -
    • Me luffs you too. Even if you hit on my hubby with alarming regularity.
      (And man, did he like it!)

      hugs,
      Teri
    • Lili. Darling. Poopsie. Sweetheart. Dill Pickle Dumpling of My Heart. I still have to look at *gag* Fabio when I go there!

      Just EW.

      Teri
  • hybrid or electric car 664

    (Anonymous)
    652017
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