This is stuck in my head.


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As She Waits . . .


Too cute not to share.

benzeknees

Every day – at the same time – she waits for him…

He comes… and they go for a walk

Wouldn’t it be great if we all had friends like this…no words
needed…they just intuitively recognize the value of each
other in their lives and act accordingly.

This was sent to me by a friend today & I thought it was worth sharing.

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OAA: Week 8


If you don’t know, OAA stands for over-analyzer anonymous. If you haven’t read any previous posts, they start here and are better if read in order.

*Scene opens with the sound of glass breaking.

Bill: Told you there was a side entrance, come on in guys.

Jill: Did you break a window in? You are such an idiot Bill! You know that they are still looking for us after what happened to mom and dad.

Sue: Um, maybe we should have just waited outside for Bob to show up. He would have called one of us. Probably me because, well, you know.

Cookie: Let’s hit the road Becky, it doesn’t look like there will be much of a party here tonight.

Becky: Sounds good to me. See you all next week.

Jack: (to Joe): pst. Hey man, it’s not your fault. Girls like that just are always looking for something to do. It has nothing to do with your freakishly long arms and legs. (to everyone) Hi everybody. I’ve got to say that I really enjoyed last week’s discussion. In fact, it stuck with me throughout the week. I think that Bob might be getting a little stressed out though…does anyone else think that? I mean, I am pretty good at picking up on some of the little things that other people don’t usually notice. Just like that glass over there. I bet when you came in, you weren’t so focussed on the glass, but I saw it right away because, like I said, I am good at notici…

Sue: Do you really think so Jack? Sorry to just interrupt like that. I was listening and then you mentioned that he might be stressed, so I started thinking about what I could have done to stress him out. I couldn’t really think of anything I did, so I tuned back in and I heard you say something about noticing…

Jack: It is okay Sue. I don’t mind being interrupted. Like my mom always said, you can’t interrupt if you don’t have anything to say. I didn’t usually have that problem though. For some reason, even when I was little, I was good at making observations. As my vocabu…

Jill: DO YOU TWO EVER SHUT UP! Shhhhhhh…listen…

*sirens sounding in the distance

Joe: Starts texting

Bill: Man, I told you they were tracking me! You know what happens next! Don’t take me! I’m not ready…(runs out front door)

Jill: Why did you break the damn glass Bill! You know we are wanted. (runs after him)

Jerry: (Outside the broken window) It wasn’t me man…I was just here for the snacks…Hey, don’t touch that cart…Where are you taking me?…I want a lawyer…

Bob: Sorry I’m late. I would have called, but since it was just 7 minutes after…What the hell…

Sue: (Runs up and hugs him): I’m so glad you are alive!

Jack: Hey, there you are. We were just talking about what could be going on with…


This is very inspirational.

anthonysramblings

Silent inspiration: Punctured Tyre Repair 

Please forward this to everyone who needs a bit of inspiration today!

Never believe what the lines of your hand predict about your future,
Bcoz people who don’t have hands also have a future… Believe in yourself

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I almost died today. More serious than last time I said that.


Hmmm, where to begin…the police? Being pushed around? That strange guy picking me up? Other people asking me if I was okay?

Just so you know, I am okay. You didn’t think this evil genius would be defeated so easily right?

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who was locked in a tower. She became bored often with the tower that she never wanted to clean, so when the opportunity came to run an errand at the local homicide market, she happily seized the moment.

The errand went well, much to her astonishment, since she had to weave her way through mazes, with demons lurking all around. Since she made it through the homicide market in record time, she decided to run a less important errand to the land of “Spending on Junk”.

After she spent her well-earned time and plenty of money in the Spending part of town, she prepared for the return journey home. She organized the merchandise she had wasted her money on and departed at a steady clip toward her tower which she kept wishing would have magically cleaned itself.

She was less than a mile away, when suddenly and without warning her steed stopped mid stride. Weirdeth, she thought, and attempted to bribe, coerce, coax, etc. her steed into moving. Alas, it was not to be.

To make matters worse, her horse had stopped in the middle of an extreme danger zone. Demons were riding around on monstrosities designed to tear limbs away from bodies, and other horrendous things. Maybe I could push him to a safer area the princess thought to herself, but then remembered the night many years ago when a “let’s make life harder than it already is” angel of mischief touched her body. Her health had deteriorated since then to the point where she could only push things, especially heavy things with the help of her steed, which needed help now.

She got her magic summoner out of her side pouch and summoned the dark lords of the homicide market to attempt to earn some sympathy before being torn apart by the mad dash of demons who would rather play with their own summoning devices than watch who might be in the way of their exit from hell.

Then, a white-haired maiden appeared out of no where and asked the princess if she needed help. The princess was very grateful for the assistance in getting out of the middle of the road. The white-haired maiden pushed the princess and her steed into a shady spot in hell’s parking lot. Soon the princess was approached by others who offered their own assistance, and her fairy mother in law came and picked up the stuff from the “Spending on Junk” store. Her fairy mother in law also went to the princess’s house to assist the princesses pets in entering the house when they got done with obedience school.

Meanwhile, an officer of the law found the princess and used his summoning device to summon a strange man with a “steed equipped” van to transport the princess and her steed home.

The end.

Kind of, except now the princess is down one magical steed and must use her donkey to transport her around, while she waits on the steed vets to fix whatever is wrong with her bigger/stronger ride. Hopefully whatever it is will be under some kind of warranty because those particular steeds are about 30,000 dollars. (Someone is obviously ripping someone off with those things).

The more real for being a fairy tale end.

This still might not be as serious as what it, in theory could be, but it was the middle of the exit of a highschool parking lot when school was getting out. If that isn’t death-defying, I don’t know what is.

OAA: Week 7


If you don’t know, OAA stands for over-analyzer anonymous. If you haven’t read any previous posts, they start here and are better if read in order.

OAA: Week 7

Bob: Hi guys, welcome to this meeting. It seems as if our group has been pretty much established, so I think it’s time to move on to the heart of the problem. Overanalysis. What does that word mean to each of you?

Sue: Well, it has always sounded kind of sexy to me. Not like the word itself turns me on, but the idea of someone obsessing over me. Or me obsessing over someone else. That is ultimately what overanalysis is…obsession.

Jill: Um, thanks for that Sue. I totally agree, and I am not being sarcastic at all. Overanalysis is: to over think things to the point of it either being annoying or ruining your relationships with people. For example, I hate my parents, not because there was something wrong with them, it’s the disease. The problem was that as a child I had learned that there was much more going on than it appeared. They tried to get me to eat certain food, have time limits on everything, etc. It was all designed to torture and slowly kill us, but when I realized that was going on, I recognized that my parents were probably over-analyzers who felt that children should grow into some idea of humanity. Sad really, their overanalyzing led to the destruction of our relationship.

Bill: My sister is right about most of that, except our parents were actually aliens, dressed up like people. When I learned of this, I became a nudist for a few years, to prove that I was all human. It is kind of strange that aliens could have a human babies, but it is even more strange why the government is covering this whole thing up. It actually has to do with pudding and alligators, but it is a really long story.

Jerry: You are all out of chips man…

Becky: Hi everyone, this is Cookie, remember me telling you about her? Anyway, we just wanted to see if our stalkers followed us here.

Cookie: Look, they are over at that window. I also found this note on our car window: Watch out for voyeurs…weird.

Bob: Let’s try to stay on topic here. What about you Jack?

Jack: Thanks for asking. I have actually thought a lot about what overanalysis is. I think that it is definitely something that you are born with, although it can become worse as we age. It is weird though because every time I think about overanalyzing, then I notice something and get distracted by it. That might be what overanalyzing is, being constantly distracted by details that other people wouldn’t think twice about. Not that I would really know a lot about that.

Like I mentioned I am too distracted to become a overanalyzer, but Joe could probably tell you. He might not want to share though. Sometimes I think that he is a little too private. It is good to be able to be open and express yourself. I worry that he might be pushing all his feelings down in order to appear normal to the outside world. No matter how much he pushes that stuff down, he will still be a really tall Asian dude. There is nothing normal about that. He might as well start getting used to it. Like my mom always told me, we all have different addictions. Not like being tall is an addiction, but maybe he is addicted to obsessing about his height. Could he be addicted to a life of silent overanalysis?

Bob: How about we ask him…Joe?

Joe: Yeah um, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you all make me seem normal. Got to go, I have to make a phone call.