Baby, It's cold outside

My favorite almost niece , Nettie,

near the Oregon/Idaho border,

 

 

You are more beautiful, everytime I see you. 

January - Beautiful Women's Month

Age 3:
She looks at herself and sees a Queen.

Age 8:
She looks at herself and sees Cinderella.

Age 15:
She looks at herself and sees an Ugly Sister

 (Mum I can't go to school looking like this!)

Age 20:
She looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly"

- but decides she's going out anyway.

Age 30:
She looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly"

 -- but decides she doesn't have time to fix it, so she's going out anyway.

Age 40:
She looks at herself and sees "clean" and goes out anyway.

Age 50:
She looks at herself and sees "I am" and goes wherever she wants to go.

Age 60:
She looks at herself and reminds herself of all the people who can't even see themselves in the mirror anymore. 

 Goes out and conquers the world.

Age 70:
She looks at herself and sees wisdom, laughter and ability, goes out and enjoys life.

Age 80:
Doesn't bother to look. Just puts on a purple hat and goes out to have fun with the world.

Whatever the age you are one beautiful woman!

Celebrate YOU!

HaHa

Prayers Men VS Women

A WOMAN'S POEM:         

Before I lay me down to sleep,
  I pray for a man who's not a creep,
  One who's handsome, smart and strong.
  One who loves to listen long,

  One who thinks before he speaks,
  One who'll call, not wait for weeks..
  I pray he's rich and self-employed,
  And when I spend, won't be annoyed.
  Pull out my chair and hold my hand..
  Massage my feet and help me stand.

  Oh send a king to make me queen.
  A man who loves to cook and clean.
  I pray this man will love no other.
  And relish visits with my mother.

  A MAN'S POEM:

   I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with
     Big tits who owns a bar on a golf course,
     And loves to send me fishing and drinking.. This
     Doesn't rhyme and I don't give a crap.

Which Reminds me,

MY WIFE WON'T LIKE IT


One day I accidentally overturned my golf cart.

Elizabeth, a very attractive and keen golfer, who lived in a villa
on the golf course, heard the noise and called out:
"Are you okay, what's your name?"

"Its Jack and I'm Okay thanks," I replied.

"Jack , forget your troubles. Come to my villa, rest a while
and I'll help you get the cart up later."

"That's mighty nice of you," I answered, but I don't think
my wife would like it."

"Oh, come on," Elizabeth insisted.

She was very pretty, very sexy and persuasive . . . I was weak.

"Well okay," I finally agreed, and added, "but my wife won't like it."

After a restorative brandy, and some creative putting lessons,
I thanked my host: "I feel a lot better now, but I know my wife
is going to be really upset."

"Don't be silly!” Elizabeth said with a smile: “She won't know anything.
By the way, where is she?"

"Under the cart!" I said . . .



ONE MORE

An elderly man was stopped by the police around 2 AM and was asked where he was going at that time of night.

The man replied, "I'm on my way to a lecture about alcohol abuse and the effects alcohol, staying out late, and smoking have on the human body.

The officer then asked, "Really? Who's giving that lecture at this time of night?"

The man replied, "That would be my wife."

NEVER WAX YOUR HOO-HA

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless hair removal – The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax. Read on…

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids.

I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ‘Maybe I should get the waxing kit from the medicine cabinet.’ So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.

It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax…you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm, you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else), and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be?

                                                              

I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!) So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each other and stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in, so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (‘Cold wax,’ yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh, hold the skin around it tight and pull.

It works!

OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin Extraordinaire. With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet…
                            

Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip).

I inhale deeply and brace myself…RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip.

CRAP!
                

Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out… I must stay conscious…I must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy: a wax-covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
       

There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip… it’s not! I touch….I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake… Remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? So I put my foot down.
         

Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself: ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to poop….my head may pop off!’

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand in the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits, and the wax should melt, and I can gently wipe it off, right???

*WRONG!!!!!!!*
           

I get into the tub – the water is slightly hotter than that used to sterilize surgical equipment – and I sit down. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub…..in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt cold wax.

So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter.
So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!’  




  

There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, ‘Are we talking cheeks or hoo-ha?’ She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the rundown, and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night…





   

While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike, and

I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace…..the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care.
IT WORKS!!

I get a hearty congratulation from my friend, and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair….THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I’m going to try hair color……how bad can that turn out???

{The Fly} PG Rated

{The Fly} PG Rated - Some Needed Humor Relief

In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake.

A hot dry fly who said to no one in particular, "Gosh... if I go down three inches, I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed."

There was a fish in the water thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches I can eat him."

There was a bear on the shore thinking,"Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches... that fish will jump for the fly... and I will eat him."

It also happened that a hunter was farther up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich. "Gosh," he thought, "if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish leaps for it...that bear will expose himself and grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and then have a proper lunch."

You probably think this is enough activity for one bank of a lake, but I can tell you there was more.

A wee mouse by the hunter's foot was thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly...and that bear grabs for that fish...the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese sandwich."

A cat lurking in the bushes took in this scene and thought, as was fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time, "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly...and that bear grabs for that fish...and that hunter shoots that bear...and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich...then I can have mouse for lunch."

The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the cooling mist of the water...

The fish swallows the fly...
The bear grabs the fish...
The hunter shoots the bear...
The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
The cat jumps for the mouse...
The mouse ducks...
The cat falls into the water and drowns.

The moral of the story is....

Whenever a fly goes down three inches some cat is probably in danger.