I got a message yesterday from a young lady who was one and an half feet below my required height and i thought it funny that it was not in the filter box. it was also the first message i got from someone i didn't write to first. I replied and told her i would like to chat with her too but i just went back to my mail box and don't see that message, neither the one sent nor the one received and i searched for her in the search area and got no result but i still got the email address she sent in the message.
He was just seven but curious as he asked "Dad, what is politics?" his father thought for a while, then answered, "I am the bread winner for the family, call me capitalism, your mom spends the money, call her government. our house help, you can call civil servant, you are the people and your baby brother is the future. try and figure it out". The young lad thought on the words of his father all day untill night but got nowhere. but while in bed that night he heard his baby brother crying in the next room, he got up and went to him and found the baby in a mess, so he thought he'd better go and call the house help but when he got to the door he found it locked, he peeked through the keyhole and saw his dad on top of her so he thought it would be best to inform mom about the baby. when he got to mom's room door it was locked also. he peeked in and saw his mother asleep. frustrated he went back to his bed and went to sleep. The next morning at breakfast he said "Dad, i understand what politics is all about now". "yea?" replied the father, "explain it to me in your words" and the little boy began, "Dad, while the government is asleep, capitalism is screwing the civil servant, the people is being ignored and the future is in a mess"
Everyone you meet appears to have tentacles growing out of places that you wouldn't expect tentacles to be growing from.
You start out each morning with a 30-minute jog around the bathroom.
You write to your mother in Germany every week, even though she sends you mail from Iowa asking why you never write.
Every time you see a street sign, you have a tremendous urge to relieve yourself on it.
You wear your boxers on your head because you heard it will ward off evil dandruff spirits.
You're always having to apologize to your next door neighbour for setting fire to his lawn decorations.
Every commercial you hear on the radio reminds you of death.
People stay away from you whenever they hear you howl.
Your breath smells more and more like squirrel dung each passing day.
Nobody listens to you anymore, because they can't understand you through that scuba mask.
You begin to stop and consider all of the blades of grass you've stepped on as a child, and worry that their ancestors are going to one day seek revenge.
Fear for the grass got greater since you learned that grass has blades
You refuse to speak in fields because the corn have ears’
You have meaningful conversations with your toaster.
Your father pretends you don't exist, just to play along with your little illusion.
You collect dead windowsill flies.
Every time the phone rings, you shout, "Hey! An angel just got its wings!"
You like cats. Especially with mayo.
You cry at the end of every episode of Gilligan's Island because they weren't rescued.
You put tennis balls in the microwave to see if they'll hatch.
You have a predominant fear of fabric softener.
Your dentist asks you why each individual tooth has your name etched on it, and you tell him it's for security reasons.
Melba toast excites you.
When the waiter asks for your order, you ask to go into another room to tell him because "the napkins have ears."
You tend to agree with everything your mother's dead uncle tells you.
You argue with yourself about which is better, to be eaten by a koala or to be loved by an infectious disease.
You like to sit in cornfields for prolonged periods of time, and pretend that you're a stalk.
You try to make a list of the Warning Signs of Insanity. (cough)
People offer you help, but you unfortunately interpret this as a violation of your rights as a boysenberry.
You keep thinking this is the year for the Red Sox.
You despise the voices in your head, especially the one that speaks only Hindi.
You see migrating flocks of ducks in the fall and only your attachment to the toaster keeps you from joining them.
The person you always talk to is invisible to everyone but you.
Sampe1967 Forum Posts (628)
can someone explain this to me please!!!!!
how does she delete a message from my out box??//