KilliN Me SmallZ's blog: "Just some Ravings fae the Scotsman"

i took this from sexalicious roxi...i had to it was too funny...she took it from another I stoled this from SuperSteve and even though someone else wrote it I stand behind it 100%.I know its none of my business and I have had things bought for me,but not once have I ask or begged,so I guess I do have the true friends. Now read this:Good job Steve: I just don't understand this, why do people on here BEG for Bling, Blasts & Happy Hours? Is it really necessary to stoop so low as to BEG for people to spend their hard earned money and beg for this stuff? If you want one of these FUBAR nuggets, here’s a novel idea, BUY IT YOURSELF!! If your so called friends think so much of you, they will buy you these treats without you begging like a homeless person in Times Square. If you haven’t noticed, Happy Hours are way down. I am going to guess, that the economy and high energy costs may something to do with not spending $100 for an hour of FUBAR time, instead, putting that money in the tank so one can get back and forth to work. It’s time to STOP begging for people to spend their hard earned dollar on some silly Bling thing for members who just beg like a dog at the foot of the Thanksgiving table for scraps, ENOUGH ALREADY. Your so called “friends” will buy you these trinkets no matter if you beg or don’t. I am asking the FUBAR community to come together and cease the begging. Lets join hands in this fight to stop senseless panhandling. This is my crusade. POWER TO THE PEOPLE!

WHAT WE DONT SEE ON THE NEWS. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Here's one that will make you blink.... A Simple Thank You A very touching story! Last week, while traveling to Chicago on business, I noticed a Marine sergeant traveling with a folded flag, but did not put two and two together. After wed boarded our flight, I turned to the sergeant, whod been invited to sit in First Class (and was seated across from me), and inquired if he was heading home. No,he responded. Heading out?I asked. No. Im escorting a soldier home. Going to pick him up? No He is with me right now. He was killed in Iraq . Im taking him home to his family. The realization of what he had been asked to do hit me like a punch to the gut. It was an honor for him. He told me that, although he didnt know the soldier, he had delivered the news of his passing to the soldiers family and felt as if he did know them after so many conversations in so few days. I turned back to him, extended my hand, and said, Thank you. Thank you for doing what you do so my family and I can do what we do. Upon landing in Chicago the pilot stopped short of the gate and made the following announcement over the intercom. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to note that we have had the honor of having Sergeant Steeley of theUnited States Marine Corps join us on this flight. He is escorting a fallen comrade back home to his family. I ask that you please remain in your seats when we open the forward door [so as to] allow Sergeant Steeley to deplane and receive his fellow soldier. We will then turn off the seat belt sign Without a sound, all went as requested. I noticed the sergeant saluting the casket as it was brought off the plane, and his action made me realize that I am proud to be an American. So heres a public thank-you to our military for doing what you do so we can live the way we do. Stuart Margel, Washington, D.C. Todd Heisler The Rocky Mountain News When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport , Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket last year at Denver International Airport , Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: "See the people in the windows? They'll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They're going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should" Todd Heisler The Rocky Mountain News The night before the burial of her husband's body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of 'Cat,' and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. "I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it," she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted." PLEASE KEEP THIS GOING

By the time the Lord made woman, He was into his sixth day of working overtime. An angel appeared and said, "Why are you spending so much time on this one?" And the Lord answered, "Have you seen my spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, Have over 200 movable parts, all replaceable And able to run on diet coke and leftovers, Have a lap that can hold four children at one time, Have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart -and she will do everything With only two hands." The angel was astounded at the requirements. "Only two hands!? No way! And that's just on the standard model? That's too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish." But I won't," the Lord protested. "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can work 18 hour days." The angel moved closer and touched the woman. "But you have made her so soft, Lord." "She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish." "Will she be able to think?", asked the angel. The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, She will be able to reason and negotiate." The angel then noticed something, And reaching out, touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak in this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one." "That's not a leak," The Lord corrected, "that's a tear!" "What's the tear for?" the angel asked. The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, Her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her love, Her loneliness, her grief and her pride." The angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything! Woman is truly amazing." And she is! Women have strengths that amaze men. They bear hardships and they carry burdens, But they hold happiness, Love and joy. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry. They cry when they are happy And laugh when they are nervous. They fight for what they believe in. They stand up to injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer When they believe there is a better solution. They go without so their family can have. They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally. They cry when their children excel And cheer when their friends get awards. They are happy when they hear about A birth or a wedding. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They grieve at the loss of a family member, Yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart. Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors. They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world keep turning. They bring joy, hope and love. They have compassion and ideals. They give moral support to their family and friends. Women have vital things to say and everything to give. HOWEVER, IF THERE IS ONE FLAW IN WOMEN, IT IS THAT THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH. PLEASE pass this along to all your women friends and relatives to remind them just how amazing they are.

This Will Get Ya > Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at > Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a > picture of a little girl. "Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your > friend? Your sister?" > "Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he > said sadly. > Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw > her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. > "She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the > child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly. > Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, > asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. When they > finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off > his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted. > "What is it?" Santa asked warmly. > "Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ." the old > woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to > collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. "The > girl in the photograph . my granddaughter .. well, you see ... she has > leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she > said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa ... any possible > way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for, for > Christmas, is to see Santa." > Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave > information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what > he could do. > Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what > he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, > dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do." > When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that > evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where > Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to > Children's Hospital. > "Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face. > Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother > earlier that day. "C'mon .... I'll take you there," Rick said softly. > Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They > found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out > in the hall. Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed > door and saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared > to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he > had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother > stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And > another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair > near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking > quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, > and their love and concern for Sarah. Taking a deep breath, and forcing > a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, > ho, ho!" > "Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed > to run to him, IV tubes in tact. > Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender > age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him with wonder and > excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald > patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked > at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to > force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon > Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in > the room. As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the > bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, > whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. > Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the > toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl > that year. As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit > to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She > nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, > holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and > asked her if she believed in angels. > "Oh, yes, Santa ... I do!" she exclaimed. > "Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you,! "he said. Laying > one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked > that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease.He > asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he > finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, > "Silent Night, Holy Night . all is calm, all is bright." The family > joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of > hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When > the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's > frail, small hands in his own. > "Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and > that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing > with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at > Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming > that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He > had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or toys > -- but the gift of HOPE. > "Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright. > He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Out in > the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them > and they wept unashamed. Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of > the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him. > "My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This > is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged > him. > One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for > his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went > by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap. "Hi, Santa! > Remember me?!" > "Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down > at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make > each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that > moment. > "You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped. > Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle > and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized > her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much > different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He > looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines > smiling and waving and wiping their eyes. That was the best Christmas > ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed--and been blessed to be > instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope. This precious > little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked > up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, > Merry Christmas!" > > If you believe in miracles you will pass this on..I did!

JUST A MOM? A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a......?" "Of course I have a job," snapped the woman. "I'm a Mom." "We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically. I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar." "What is your occupation?" she probed. What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. "Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?" Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, [what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money." There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up and personally ushered me to the door. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom." Motherhood! What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations" and great grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates"? I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts "Associate Research Assistants". Please send this to another Mom, Grandmother, Aunt, and other friends you know. May your troubles be less, your blessings be more and nothing but happiness come through your door!

THE DATE After 21 years of marriage, My wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you." The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. "What's wrong, are you well," she asked? My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. "I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I responded, "Just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much." That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car "They can't wait to hear about our meeting. We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said. "Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded. During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation---nothing extra-ordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed. "How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice; much more so than I could have imagined," I answered. A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son." At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: "I LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some other time." Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you've had a baby......... somebody doesn't know that once you're a mother, "normal" is history. Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct ..... somebody never took a three-year-old shopping. Somebody said being a mother is boring... somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit. Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out good"... somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee. Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices.... somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window. Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother.... somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math. Somebody said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the first.... somebody doesn't have five children. Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing questions in the books ...... somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose or in his ears. Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and delivery.... somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of kindergarten ... or on a plane headed for military "boot camp." Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back ... somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies to sell cookies. Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married.... somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings. Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home.... somebody never had grandchildren. Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell her.... "somebody" isn't a mother....... Pass this along to all the "mothers" in your life. I think we should also pass it on to anyone who has ever loved and / or lost a mother.

A Different Christmas Poem The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream. The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear. Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the Sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow. My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was near. Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight. A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold. Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child. "What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's freezing out here! Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!" For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.. To the window that danced with a warm fire's light Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you from the darkest of times. No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me. My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December," Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers." My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ', And now it is my turn and so, here I am. I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile. Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, and blue... An American flag. I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and my home. I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat. I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.. Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall." "So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright, Your family is waiting and I'll be all right." "But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast? It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your wife and your son." Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love us, and never forget. To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long. For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we bled. Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we mattered to you as you mattered to us." PLEASE, Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S.service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people Stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN 30th Naval Construction Regiment OIC, Logistics Cell One Al Taqqadum, Iraq

A lucky star dropped on earth 1 night, and it asked me "what do u want? a million dollars, or a true friend? ". I chose nothing because i already had you. *Send this to 20 of ur true friends of CherryTap, !!! If u get this back ur a true friend 000000000000000 000000000000000 000000000000000_000000000000000 00000000000000___00000000000000 0000000000000_____0000000000000 000000000000_______000000000000 00000000000_________00000000000 0____________________________00 000_______*TRUE FRIEND*_____000 000000 __________________ 000000 0000000_________________0000000 000000_________0_________000000 00000_______0000000_______00000 0000_____0000000000000_____0000 000___0000000000000000000___000 00__00000000000000000000000__00 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~