My love/hate relationship with the extreme conservative right continues. Yes, I love how fascinatingly absurd they can be –beyond anything I could have imagined– and I hate the fact that there are people in this country ignorant enough to take them seriously. Well, let’s hope conservative Canadians are a smarter lot than our American conservative faction.

Canadian comedian Mary Walsh of This Hour Has 22 Minutes fame, visited Palin on one of her book-signing tours. Disguised as her conservative character Marg Delahunty, Mary tried to ask Palin a question during the book signing:

“I just wanted to ask you if you have any words of encouragement for Canadian conservatives who have worked so hard to try to diminish the kind of socialized medicine we have up there.”

Walsh was instantly surrounded by security and escorted out of the bookstore, even as Palin attempted to answer her question. Walsh’s response?

“We’re in a bookstore, at a public event, in a place one would think was a bastion of free speech. And no one was allowed to ask questions. What are they afraid of?”

Luckily, Walsh caught up with Palin outside (she had to hide in a loading dock) after the book-signing where Palin freely answered the question:

“Keep the faith because common sense conservatism can be plugged in there in Canada too. In fact, Canada needs to reform its health care system and let the private sector take over some of what the government has absorbed.”

Yeah. Canada needs to stop offering affordable health care to its citizens and start making Health Care a for-profit industry. Cause that’s gonna save lives, right? Because the American Health Care system is, like all things American, morally and economically advanced.

So what do Canadians think about Sarah Palin’s dream for their Health Care system? Well, according to The Raw Story:

A recent study (PDF) found that 90 percent of Canadians support universal, single-payer health care. A poll taken last summer shows 82 percent of Canadians believe their health care system to be better than the US’s, despite constant grumbling about waiting times for treatment of non-life-threatening conditions.

Tim Forde takes issue with the biggest company in the world over the smallest possible issue. We salute you sir!

Dear Mr. Google

I was recently searching the internet using Yahoo! and came across your site. A fine endeavour you seem to have set out upon: Your name is as amusing, if not moreso than Yahoo! (I for one am glad you have seen no need for erroneous exclamation marks [they merely induce an unncecessary level of excitement disproportionate to the actual service you offer {there was a restaurant near me called Lunch! - what's all that about?! They closed recently <this may or may not have anything to do with their bad syntax but I am hopeful that it did and that the misguided owners have learnt their lesson>}]) and you seem to provide the answer to everything – OR DO YOU?! (No. You don’t. As I shall now demonstrate).
As you can probably tell, I am a keen punctuation-watcher. I am frequently credited as the inventor the € symbol, although many €-skeptics would have you think it was the European Central Bank (agree to disagree, I always say [ask my life-partner, Aloysius, I say it quite a lot]). So you can imagine my shock, nay dismay, nay outrage, nay inrage when I decided to crank up your search engine and entered “@”, commonly known at the “at symbol” (I would prefer to give it a name [the "and symbol", &, is known as the ampersand, so why not the ampersat? Answer me that!]). This particular search yielded NO RESULTS! Go on. Search for it now. Using your very own site. No, no, I’ll wait.

Tum-te-tum.

Done it? Well, hurry up! I don’t have all night.

About time. So, you see where your world-renowned site has failed a professional punctuation fetishist like myself, and the entire internet-using world – @ seems to be quite an important symbol in the world of electronic mail. I for one use it in MY email as I notice you do too. There must surely be others. They are left lost in your worldwide web of failure. They are crying out to be found and you, Mr. Google, have left them to flounder in the briney waves of the cyber-sea. Shame on you, Mr. Google.
Shame.
I trust you will rectify this major lapse and that, when I next search for @ I will not be greeted by the message “Your search – @ – did not match any documents”, but rather, by a vast swathe of results each crying with joy that they have been found: “Free @ last, free @ last, thank God almighty, we are free @ last!”

Yours spontaneously,
Timothy T. F. Forde Esq.

Alright that was a lie (the title). This is because while some of my friends were watching these vids on youtube yesterday, I didn’t really react. Was holding most of it in because I was being stubborn!

But that’s the past now so let’s move on.

Anyway these are a few videos of some Japanese pranks. Makes my Orientalness shine a bit more.. don’t you think??!

The audience laughter in the above video is a bit confusing. When they sneak on unsuspecting people they do it very quietly. NINJAS!

The above video is really funny because they are situated in a library, hence their efforts to stay quiet. I know for a fact I would have had to leave the area if I was there because I got the snowball effect on my laughter!!

Some guys get totally drunk and send their friend on a special kind of journey.

[Flickr/jacketseason]

Have you ever received an accidental SMS text from someone with the wrong number? While most people would ignore it or kindly let that person know that they’ve texted you by mistake, here is what happens when the text recipient is a tech reporter with a penchant for pranks and a huge Twitter following to egg him on.

Premise: This morning, Brian X. Chen over at Wired’s  Gadget Lab tweeted about a random text message that he got from a would-be “Romeo” who had the wrong number. At the suggestion of Macworld’s Roman Loyola via Twitter, Brian then proceeded to prank the poor guy by pretending to be “Juliet” and make a startling confession that “she” got knocked up. Hilarity ensues…

[Flickr/jacketseason/SMS prank set]

I wonder if “Romeo” ever figured out if he got punk’d or if Brian decided to put the guy out of his misery and say, “just kidding…tee-hee.” Either way, I was very entertained this morning and I hope you are too </3

Stephen the WOW freakout kid is back and thankfully for us, his success hasn’t gone to his head.  Despite his internet fame, Stephen continues to be the same spoiled-rotten b*tch-ass punk as he was that infamous day his mother canceled his World of Warcraft account. Stay gold Ponyboy, stay gold.

This is a video my brother showed me. All I’m gonna say is there’s a surprise ending.

>Heather<

Πριν ασχοληθούμε με το ΝΒΑ φέτος, πρέπει οπωσδήποτε να δείτε κάποιες φάρσες που οργάνωσε ο Dwyane Wade σε θαυμαστές του πριν λίγους μήνες.

Ο νεαρός περίμενε ώρες στην ουρά για ένα αυτόγραφο. Όταν επιτέλους ήρθε η ώρα, ο ατζέντης του Wade του λέει πως ο παίχτης υπογράφει μόνο σε παιδιά που έχουν κάποιο σωματικό πρόβλημα. Για αυτό και του προτείνει να υποκριθεί ότι υπέστη ατύχημα στο water-ski και μόλις βγήκε από το νοσοκομείο. Ο μικρός φυσικά, μόνο και μόνο για να δει τον είδωλό του από κοντά, δεν φέρνει αντίρρηση. Τι γίνεται όμως όταν ο Wade αρχίζει να τον ρωτάει επίμονα για το ατύχημα;

Άλλες δύο πολύ καλές…

]]> http://wildorchard.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/my-car-was-stolen/ Tue, 24 Nov 2009 08:00:25 +0000 Tenshi Vielle http://wildorchard.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/my-car-was-stolen/

I used to live in this rather small town, so it was pretty probable that someone would see you out and about.

My friend and I had gone to Kmart to pick up some things, and had a rather hilarious time inside the store, griefing, throwing pillows at each other, making the staff hate us… but that’s ok, because I was a retail employee myself at the time, at a competing establishment.

After checking out, we went to my car to go get something to eat. Or tried to – we couldn’t find my damn car. We thought we lost our minds. We wandered up and down the rows, “Is it here? I thought it was here. I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD I PARKED IT IN SPOT 4D!!!”

Finally, I spotted it. On the side of the building, parked like it was trying to hide from me. I was horrified. How the hell had my car been moved? And if they moved it, why the hell didn’t they just TAKE it? At least if they took it I could collect on the insurance.

Then my cell rang. On the other end, my mother was laughing so hard she was wheezing. “Did… you find…. your car?”

Helps if a girl remembers where the hell she keeps her second set of keys.

RE: Your mental stability

I hope this is just a hilarious joke and that on April 1st next year when I wake up to get my morning coffee and daily online reads, there your face will be with a big smile giving the world the always reassuring finger guns as if to say “I fooled you all, you big bunch of foolio’s!” and oh how we will laugh and in 2020 we will look back on it and say “remember how you got us good 10 years ago?”

What are the chances of that happening? Can we ever get back to the status quo? Don’t answer these questions for I do not want to know.

You’re a darn good actor sir. You’ve been in a few masterpieces such as Return to Paradise and Murder, She Wrote, and some not so good productions like the Village (although you are not to blame for this as M. Night “I Think I’m The Man” Shyamalan is an overrated ass and doesn’t realise he hasn’t produced a quality film since Unbreakable).

Are you pissed that you didn’t win an Oscar for Walk the Line, is that what prompted this sudden lifestyle change? Because you should know that I was rooting for you. I mean Philip S. Hoffman, good bloke, but come on he was in Patch Adams! I am a true believer in holding films against award winners. That way we could be guaranteed that David Caruso and Elizabeth Berkley would never win an Oscar – I know they already have a very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless!

Now I’ve heard you “rap” and I’m not going to be one of those “haters” that make ill-informed decisions before being presented with the entire story nor am I going to pass judgment on the lives of others. Having said that you’re slightly shit. I know I said I wasn’t going to say that but I lied. You’re so shit that I would rather listen to that white guy in 5ive freestyle before I have to endure another listen of what you’re bringing to the table. Take it back and get a refund. Do not put all your eggs into this rapping basket, because you will need a fallback. If asked to do ‘Gladiator 2: Attack of the Zombies’ I say take it.

I will treat this as an open letter as I believe Joaquin would regularly Google the terms “Shyamalan”, “Overrated” and “Philip Seymour Hoffman is a tampon”. This post should be right up there in the searches.

Bob Stane, who everyone knows from all the great music he produces at the Coffee Gallery Backstage and the comedy he set loose at the Ice House for years, is making more than anyone else could out of his “fork in the road” on S. Pasadena Ave. I’m heading there today for a photo myself to catch all the action. Just read on and be amazed. Then give him a hand with food and decor!

Bob Stane Says:  Today, we have two sermons in one.  Double your pleasure, double your fun.
Both have the subtle thread of volunteerism running through them.  Oh, Bob, you have started your novel.  No Chuckie and Chuckette,
I have not.  Wait for it.   Here is the fun part.  As you know, we scored big with THE FORK.  It ran on TV all over the country and was featured in The Chicago Tribune, with color photo.  (Internet Version).  Also The Los Angeles Times featured us with a half page as
did The San Gabriel Tribune.  It went on and on and is still a “happening” event. The door is only slightly ajar. The demons are peeking around the corner.
The conquest of the media world is only a greedy grasp away.  I can almost taste the heady essence of complete power.
Of course with absolute power comes absolute corruption.  Well, I can’t be perfect.  Stay with me on this one.
We are starting The Fork In The Road Gang with everything that goes along with belonging to, and  flaunting,  a snooty and exclusive  organization.  A fraternity  that is much too good for such as I.  But that will be worked out.
You, however, are invited to join.  Can you feel that warm tingle go up and down your spine?  Delicious.
Read the copy about the food drive.  There is a lot more opportunity for future glory in this than you might think.  Then go down to the next item of forkiness  and absorb the hint of evil that goes with ongoing holidays and Pasadena events.        Oh, yes, yes, yes.

 
THE FOOD DRIVE:  (Good deeds, etc. The Holidays are here)
“Put The Fork In Hunger”  food drive to benefit Union Station Homeless Services.  Largest Food Drive Ever!
 
This Saturday and Sunday from 8 to 4 P.M.  Bob Stane, Ken Marshall (The Coffee Gallery Backstage) and Philip Coombes(AgentPhil.com) will be launching Pasadena’s largest food drive ever! benefiting Union Station Homeless services.  Union Station Homeless Services  will be feeding more than 5,000 people in the park on Thanksgiving Day and any non-perishables you can drop off at the fork this weekend will be greatly appreciated and much needed.
The food drive will be taking place at The infamous “Fork” located at the “fork in the road” where St. John and Pasadena Ave. meet. (or divide depending if your cup is half full or half empty) This is just South of Huntington Hospital and Bellfontaine.  (From now on, this piece of dirt is dubbed, “Fork  Plaza”). Please look for the volunteers wearing bright Orange shirts.  Simply go slow, roll down your window and give your non-perishable food items to the volunteers with outreach bags.

We are also looking for volunteers (anyone? anyone?) to help on both days of the event, Hint:  students  looking for  service hours.  For further information or to volunteer, please contact Philip Coombes at Phil@AgentPhil.com or call 626 644-3227.  (do not call Bob Stane, phone or e mail Phil.). Adults welcomed and needed. Call now.
Easiest route is from Arroyo (Pasadena Freeway).  Go west on Glen Arm.  Go north on Pasadena Ave.  Admire fork. Volunteer or drop off food.  Go around the corner, park, and gaze. Think about the audacity and the work and imagination that went into this stunt. Now your appetite is whetted.  You are doomed.  However, if Glenda, The Good Witch shows up you may get away with it.
Mapquest. Type in 866 N. Pasadena Ave. Pasadena, CA.  The Fork lives to the left of this address.
=======================================================================================================

What’s next, Bob. Exploit me, take full advantage.  “See World Conquest.”
The Fork In The Road, at Fork Plaza, has only started to infect the community.  So much potential  mischief, so little time.
Get this insight.  “The Fork and Fork Plaza” are new players on the Pasadena scene.  New and shiny. Just right for seasonal exploitation.
The television cameras are waiting for the close up, CB.
We need a Santa hat for the top of the fork.  There will be lights (we hope).  Other wonderful decorations and “inspired” things might happen or appear. The top of the fork is 24 inches wide.  Just right for some sewing genius who can make a hat or ?  A craft project or do you have a huge Santa hat in your garage?  Ideas welcomed.  Ken will install, do not
climb any ladders.
All right, Bob, what do you really want to do?  Spill your guts.  O. K., you got it out of me.  What I really want is to get The Fork featured in The New Year’s Day parade television coverage and as a feature, on TV, during the football game, January 1, both.  That will require ideas.  And a crown on the top if the fork.  See “crafts.”  Want to see your work on TV?  Sure you do.
Now, Bob, how are you going to get it on TV on New Year’s Day? Answer: Remember, The Fork is a new player and the TV commentators have about worn out anything else that might be spectacular in Pasadena.  That leaves The Fork and my festering imagination to supply (safe and sane) visuals.  The Rose Court?  Maybe.  The Cheer leaders of both football teams?  Dancers? Perhaps.
Actually, there is much more but I cannot tell you as I need to reserve much of the ideas to seduce the TV channels.  I have great visuals in store. Can’t give it away. So cool.  You will be proud of me.
Hint:  I may need someone to craft a large pie.  Envision a round wash tub (tin/zinc) cut down (shortened) to pie size.  Then a pie crust (made of?).     Oh, yes, a pie.  That warm tingle is, again, going up the spine.  You will think of better things than I.
Now you can contact Bob Stane.  Think outside the pie:  bstane@earthlink.net
This is going to be good.  (or as Terry Southern wrote of Guy Grand’s escapades in his book “The Magic Christian,” “it cost him a pretty penny to get out of that one.”).

The best pranks are harmless pranks… and this one is pretty darn good!

an assignment for my intermediate creative writing class–write a story involving a predicament and characters’ responses to a predicament.

On April 17^th, 2004, the students at Flatrock High School were surprised and delighted to see a large brown and white Hereford cow pacing the linoleum of the third floor hallway.  Green and yellow spray paint spelled ‘Seniors 04’ across her left side.  A row of teachers stood at the entrance of the stairwell, directing waves of excited faces away from the big-eyed bovine and towards their lockers and classrooms.

It was nearing the last week for the seniors and pranks were to be expected: food fights, classrooms filled with upside-down furniture, and saran-wrapped toilets.  The teachers had attended a mandatory meeting the week before and talked about possibilities, preventative measures, and penalties.  They had not discussed cows.

It is a well-known fact that a cow will easily allow itself to be led up a flight of stairs, but lacks the proper anatomy and grace to make a comfortable descent.  Caroline Brinks, senior in the graduating class of 2004, knew this to be true.  She also knew that pulling off such a prank as the cow incident of 04 would be the icing on the cake of her various stunts and shenanigans executed while attending Flatrock High.  That is why on the night of April 16^th, Caroline and two of her friends led a misty-eyed old cow up three flights of stairs and left her to roam, providing one janitor’s bucket filled with hay and two with water.

Connor had heard Caroline leave the house around 2:30 in the morning—her ankles always cracked late at night, and so did the floorboards outside of Connor’s bedroom door.  He had checked the digital clock on his bedside table, breathed out a huff of frustration, and turned over in bed, his scarlet locks flaying fan-like over the pillowcase.  Their red hair was the only thing Connor had in common with his sister, besides their birthday.  Connor was always drawing lines; Caroline was always toeing them.  She wore her red hair like a badge of honor and he topped it with a baseball cap to keep it from reflecting too much light.

On the morning of the cow’s arrival, Caroline’s ponytail mirrored the rosiness of her two red cheeks as she walked proudly down the hallway.  Connor’s friend Albin nudged his arm at the lockers.

“Dude, it was Caroline, wasn’t it?  Your sister did this?”  he was grinning.

Connor fingered the brim of his cap with an unsteady hand.

“What? I don’t know. No.  Someone else.”

All during World History Connor could hear the clacking of the cow’s hooves above him.  Every time the florescent lights trembled with the heavy step of the cow, the students snickered and stole glances in Connor’s direction, looking for a grin in return.  Connor pulled his hood up over his capped head and kept his eyes faced towards the whiteboard.

The teachers and staff acquired a halter and lead to make the impossible attempt of leading the cow down the stairs.  It happened after school was let out for the day, but there were still kids around and a few stopped to watch the struggle with amusement.  Ms. Buchanan and Mr. Geoffries pulled and Mr. Scott, Mr. Reynolds, and Mr. Baerd pushed.  The cow stood with her hooves planted at the top of the steps and mooed loudly.  The struggle ended when Mr. Scott was kicked in the stomach by a flying hoof.  The janitor came by with a bucket to shovel the manure from the third floor hallway and the teachers retreated to their classrooms to check their email and grade papers.

After track practice, Caroline followed Connor out to the car.

“Did you hear everyone at school today?  Everyone is talking about the cow.” She said, swinging her spike bag into the trunk and tossing her backpack in the back seat.  Connor slammed the driver’s seat door and snapped his seatbelt across his chest.

“Yeah of course I heard about it, I saw it with my own eyes.” he muttered.

Caroline laughed and turned up the volume on the radio before Connor swatted her hand away and turned it back down.

“Geez, Caroline, why? Why did you do that?  To get attention?  Like you don’t get enough already?  Geez.  Mom’s gonna have a cow.”

Caroline burst out laughing at the mention of a cow and reached over to turn the radio up again.  Connor didn’t stop her, gritting his teeth and focusing on the road instead.

He figured someday she would have to pay for her running around, have to account for her reckless activities that went without consequence.  For now he tolerated it at best.  It was embarrassing to protest too much and be shut out and ignored in the end.  She was his older sister (two minutes older) and she wasn’t going to be bossed around.

When Connor and Caroline pulled into the driveway their mother was standing in front of the garage, washing the dog with the garden hose.  Connor parked the car in the driveway and Caroline jumped out before the engine was turned off, running to embrace the wet dog.  “Caroline!” her mother scolded lightly, smiling at the large wet spot on Caroline’s t-shirt.

“What?  I’m all hot from track practice.  Feels good.”

A big pool of soapy water crept towards Connor’s feet as he stood by the trunk of the car, unloading his book bag.  His mother called over to him, asking about school.  Caroline shot Connor a look over her shoulder, a look that meant don’t you dare say a thing about you-know-what. Connor slammed the trunk shut and pulled his cap over his head, walking past the dog and into the garage.  “It was fine. I got a lot of homework to do.” he said and disappeared into the mudroom.   Caroline’s mother raised both eyebrows at her and Caroline gave a shrug and a “teenage boys and their mood swings” eye roll.  “He’s been pouty all day!” she said to the dog and took off her wet shirt, swinging it at her side.

When the students returned in the morning the cow was still there, but she was enclosed in a small pen made from tables and chairs at the very end of the hallway. She stood on a blue tarp that was scattered with hay.  Two white buckets of water sat in the back corner of the makeshift enclosure.  Throughout the day the students decorated the cow’s pen with various items: green and yellow pom pons from the gym closet, handmade posters, and socks, gloves, and hats.  The cow didn’t seem to mind all the attention.  She stomped her hoof and blinked at the kids who reached out to pat her wet, drippy nose.  The students of Flatrock High had already begun to call her Rocky, which was actually already the name of their bulldog mascot.  A cow was a much better mascot, the students decided, and even though the teachers continued to investigate the prank, they were secretly amused to have a cow living on the third floor of the school.

The pressing concern was how to get the cow out of the school in a timely and efficient manner.  There were no elevators to bring her safely to the ground floor, and the windows on the third floor were few, and much too small for a cow.  Even if the windows were big enough to hoist Rocky through, there was no way (physical or financial) of obtaining the crane necessary to lower her down.  Though she was not an immense cow, she had to weigh at least 1,200 pounds.  The situation became increasingly frantic as local newspapers and television stations rang all day, wanting to see the spectacle of the “Flatrock High Cow.”  The janitor popped his head into the principal’s office every time the cow dropped a new pile on the tarp, saying he had not taken this job so he could muck out cattle stalls.  Mrs. Whitehall, the secretary, picked up the phone and began making calls to every farm within 15 miles of the school to see if anyone was missing a Hereford cow with a large white patch on her left side.

By the morning of the following day the cow had been identified as belonging to Topher Wing, the farmer of the beef farm two miles down the road.  He came by the school, took one look at the cow’s bowed back and drippy white nose and nodded his head.

“That’s one of mine alright.  She’s been dried up a couple years now.  Well, guess now’s a good a time as ever.  Should’ve done it last fall anyway.”

The cow had to be without food for at least 24 hours prior to butchering.  The principal organized for Topher to come in the following night at 8:30 pm, when there would be no students in the school or in sports practice around the building.  Topher would bring his bolt gun and some of his men to quickly carve the cow so they could get it out of the building to finish properly processing the meat.  The principal would of course keep the plan from the students; it would only lead to angry protests and unflattering cartoons in the school newspaper.  They would come to school the morning after next and the cow would be gone; no further explanation needed.

The principal, however, did not take Connor’s acute skills of observation into account when making these conclusions.  Connor witnessed Topher Wing starting his noisy blue pickup in the parking lot from the window by his third-floor locker.  He noted the absence of hay from Rocky’s stall.  He noticed the teacher’s prolonged glances at the brown-and-white cow standing placidly in the corner of her pen.  By the end of the day Connor was sure of Rocky’s fast-approaching fate.

After track practice Connor and Caroline drove home together as usual.  Caroline had the passenger window rolled down, the seat back and her right foot propped up so the arch faced towards the rear-view mirror.  She wiggled her toes in the breeze.  Connor pressed the automatic window button on his door and Caroline shrieked and pulled her leg to her chest to get it out of the path of the rising window.  “Geez, Turdface, what’s your problem?”

Connor looked out the driver’s side window, waiting at the stop sign to turn onto Mason Road.  Caroline frowned and poked her brother sharply in the ribs.  “I said, what is your deal?  You’ve been acting like such a freak since two days ago.  Are you still mad about the cow?”

Connor avoided her flashing green eyes, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel instead.

“Shit, Connor, come on.  Everyone thinks it’s hilarious.  You’re the only one with his panties all up in a bunch over a stupid cow.”

Connor’s head spun to the right, his baseball cap nearly flying off his head.

“Oh, stupid cow, right?  Yeah, nice job stealing a cow from the Wing farm.  You know they raise beef cattle, right?  You know Topher’s bringing a shotgun to school tomorrow night and putting a bullet between that ‘stupid cow’s’ eyes?  What are they calling her now?  Rocky?  How is everyone going to feel when they found out their mascot got ground up and turned into hamburger meat?  Hope you’re happy, Caroline.  Hope you’re real damn proud of yourself.”

Caroline’s eyes grew large and her features began to twitch nervously on her pale face, as if she were about to burst into tears.  It was rare to see Connor so worked up, and the sight was both fascinating and terrifying.  His face got all purplish-red and one of the veins near his left temple popped out.  Connor and Caroline sat facing each other for a few seconds, car horns beeping impatiently behind them.  Connor wiped a fleck of spit from his lip and looked both ways down the street, flicking on the turn signal and turning left onto the road.

After a few minutes of silence Caroline began to sniff loudly, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her t-shirt.  Connor felt somewhat sorry for his outburst: for all of Caroline’s spontanaeity and vigor she could be extremely sensitive, especially when animals were involved.  She adored all furry creatures big and small, which is why Connor could not wrap his mind around the answer to why she would steal a poor cow from its home in the middle of the night and lead it up three flights of stairs.  He pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition but did not open the door.  The only sounds were the sniffles coming from Caroline and the plink-plink of the warm engine.

“Why Caroline? Why, why, why did you do it?  How did you think this was going to turn out?”

Caroline snorted loudly and swallowed.  “I don’t know- I wasn’t, I didn’t think they would shoot it!” Her face began to scrunch up and she pressed her lips together to prevent an outburst.  “Connor, I don’t know what to do.  Please,  just. . .we have to. . .” Caroline pressed her lips together again, her body shaking with distress.  Connor breathed out deeply, lifted his hat and smoothed his red hair flat on his head before replacing the cap and opening the car door.

“You can chill out here as long as you want.  I’m going inside.”  Caroline unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs close to her body.  When she finally came inside her face was puffy and red and she went straight to her room.

At 1:30 in the morning Connor walked into Caroline’s room and shone a flashlight in her face.  She squinted at him and scrambled for her phone buried in the covers of her bed, glaring at the time on the screen.

“C’mon.  Get some shoes on.”

“Connor, what the hell?”

“I’m saving your ass from years of guilt and self-loathing.  Get some shoes on.”

Caroline threw the covers off her bed and followed Connor out to the driveway.  He was holding their dad’s keys to the pickup.  A long sheet of plywood from their father’s scrap pile was sticking out of the bed of the truck.  Caroline hesitated for a moment, before climbing into the passenger seat.  In one fluid motion Connor started the engine and reversed out of the driveway, heading towards the high school.  When they got to the parking lot Connor lifted the end of the plywood from the back and Caroline climbed into the truck bed and lifted the other end, easing the wood onto the pavement.  She held the strips of scrap board horizontally across the plywood as Connor hammered them in, leaving a few feet between each strip.

Wordlessly, they carried the ramp from the parking lot around to the side of the school, where the entrance to the theater was.  Caroline knew from experience that the back theater entrance had a faulty lock; she had no idea how Connor knew of this secret.  Connor led the way backwards through the entrance, tilting the plywood so the two could guide it through the doorway.  By the time Connor and Caroline walked to the top of the main stairwell their faces were covered in a thin film of sweat.  Two more trips produced cinder blocks and a bucket of alfalfa.

The twins rested at the top of the staircase to look down at the ramp, braced at the bottom with a series of cinder blocks.  Caroline was unsure about this plan: after all, a ramp wasn’t all that different from a flight of stairs.  It was dark in the stairwell, lit by the smallest bit of glow coming from the security lights in the hall.  Maybe the cow would smell her and remember that she was the one who had gotten her into this predicament.  Between the darkness of the environment and her personal history with the cow, Caroline doubted the success of Connor’s plan.  She knew better than to voice her opinion, since he was awake at 2 am on a school night, and obviously not in the mood to humor her comments.

Caroline followed Connor as he headed towards the pen where Rocky was kept.  When she first spotted their dark outlines Rocky snorted and shifted to the back of the stall, but upon smelling the alfalfa allowed Connor to slip a halter over her nose and lead her out of the pen.  It only took about 20 minutes of coaxing to get Rocky from the third floor to the first landing.  She was hungry after a day of no food and eager to get at the bucket of alfalfa.  The second flight she descended with slightly more courage, her hooves thudding heavily on the plywood.

It was between the second and first floors, with two short flights to go, that Rocky balked.  She had had enough, and planted her hooves at the start of the ramp, swinging her tail so it slapped against her rump.  Caroline’s shoulders slumped and she set the bucket of alfalfa down heavily.  “It’s 3:45” she said,   “We don’t have much time.”  Connor looked over at Caroline.  It was the first time either of them had spoken since Connor woke his sister from her bed.  “You just need to relax” he said,  “You’re getting all worked up and it’s making her nervous.  Just sit down for a while.”  Both of them rested against the wall of the landing, watching Rocky look down the ramp and then behind her at the two humans, blinking her large brown eyes slowly.  Eventually her tail stopped swinging and she eyed the bucket of alfalfa on which Caroline was resting her arm.  Connor stood slowly and gripped the lead, Caroline walking backwards next to him holding the bucket.  Rocky sniffed and shuffled her way down the final two flights, hesitating only three times along the way.  When they got her outside it was almost five thirty, and the faintest strip of pink could be seen creeping from the skyline.  Connor tied the cow to the railing on the main entrance, knotting the rope twice.  He set down the bucket in front of Rocky and sat next to Caroline, who was resting in the damp grass.

They looked at each other and a smile began to inch across Connor’s face.  Caroline blurted out a relieved bark of laughter that caused Rocky to shift her weight and snort loudly.  She reached over and grabbed Connor’s cap from his head, pressing it over her own red locks.  “I must say, Connor Brinks, that I am very impressed with the outcome of Operation Cow Rescue.  Congratulations, you saved me from years of ‘guilt and self-loathing.’ ”

“Shut up,” said Connor, smiling and smoothing his hair with one hand as he reached for his hat with the other.  Caroline giggled and held the cap down on her head with both hands.  “No, really.  Thanks.” she said, pulling a handful of grass from the ground and separating it with her fingers.  Connor stood up and brushed off his jeans.  “Guess we better load that stuff up and get home before people start waking up,” he said.  They carried out the last of the supplies to the parking lot and sat in the truck, looking at the cow watching them from her outpost.  “What’s going to happen now?” Caroline asked as Connor started the car.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure now everyone’s going to harass Topher Wing until he sells the cow to some student.  She’ll be fine.”  Caroline pulled Connor’s cap down over her eyes and leaned against the cool window.  “I think I’m gonna lie low for a bit.  You know, keep a low profile until graduation.  A break.  For a little while.”  Connor laughed and turned onto the road to their house.  “I think that’s a good idea.”

This is just an offtopic, but I have the feeling I need to write about this cute prankster. As you hoax-believers know this guy is called Renato van Bloemenhuis and comes from my neighbor-country the Netherlands. The Netherlands is well-known by myself as a country where my friends drive to to get a good Marihuana smoke. And in my humble opinion… Renato smokes foul pot. He once was famous for his Michael Jackson is NOT dead video that circled around the internet and on some TV news stations. Did anybody notice that it was his first video on Youtube for his YT-channel? Maybe he had a vision: THIS IS IT!

Last night I get a call from my brother.  Our main phones are our cell phones, just seems a cheaper way to go.  As you are all aware I am sure, cell phones are sometimes not that great indoors.  I always lose my connection when I am home so when I receive a call I run quick like a bunny out to the lanai before the call is dropped. I barely make it.  Apparently my brother has to do the same thing.  Anyway, he asked me to look up some flight information for him on SeaCoast Arlines for his trip home for Christmas.  Whoo Hoo my bro is coming home. I can’t wait!!  I said I wished I could sit in front of my computer to give him the flight information because it would be so much easier, but I would chance losing the call. He said he understood and explained to me that he is outside too because he has a tin roof on his home.  So he wanted to do a test to prove to me that he would lose the call if he went inside.

BRO: Ok, I am going to go inside now.  Let me know if I start breaking up  (do you know what’s going through my head at this point??  PRANK!!)

ME: Ok, go ahead

BRO: Can ya hear me now?

ME: Yea, you’re good

BRO: How about now?

ME: (Now mind you I can hear him a plain as day)  BRO! <silence>  BROOO! <longer silence>  BRO!

BRO: I am here, can ya hear me.

ME: BRO! <silence>  BRO!

BRO: (he starts to say something and I cut him off)

ME: I am kidding I could hear you the whole time

And we just start cracking right up laughing our butts off – we are in hysterics.  OMG, we must have laughed and cried laughing for a good 5 minutes just feeding off one another.  He was like, you got me, that was good.

Well, we hang up and I go inside and look up the flight information for him and decide to call him back while I am sitting in front of the computer.  The connection works sometimes I if sitting just right, (necked cocked to the left, face pointing upward, and eyes looking cross-eyed) it will last for a few minutes.  Joking, but I do feel all contorted trying to keep the connection.  So I call Bro back and start telling him the flight information and what do you know, my phone starts fading in and out, well Bro thought I was doing it on purpose again and he was like, NOT NOW BE SERIOUS! And I said, I am it’s my phone – trying not to laugh.  So I cocked my head more to the left, and shifted my eyes and finished the conversation.

Those that really like sharing videos will like being able to share that funny video that has had them laughing till they cry will like the fact that a new video sharing website has come online recently. How many times have you taken a look at a video that you just could not wait to share with others? This is something that has been happening more and more; which is why there are more video sharing websites coming online lately. Sharing music, videos and movies is getting (and has gotten) to be one of everyone’s favorite past times.

 There are so many people around the world that have been having a grand old time watching a Prank video that really has them laughing till their sides hurt. This is part of what the many video sharing websites are all about. Have you ever wondered why there are so many video sharing websites that have been popping up all over the place? The reasons for this have been discussed before so there really is no reason to go any further into it. The main thing is that these websites are there for everyone that wants to make use of them.

 Have you been looking for a sexy video that will make you laugh or leave you looking for something else? There are so many different videos that will make you laugh like crazy or want to yell or leave you wanting more that you can only find offline that you might end up spending several hours going from one video to the next. If you really think about it there is nothing wrong with spending an hour or two just watching a few videos. There are going to be many people that think there is something wrong with this; and that is their own opinion for what it is worth.

 Making a website like vidbang and frickenfunny one of your favorite websites is something that you are likely to be doing once you have seen some of what the site has to offer to their visitors. Websites like this are the ones that are making such a splash all over the Internet because they allow users to upload many of their favorite videos to the website so that others can take a look at them and comment on those videos. There is almost no limit to what you can actually post o websites like this.

You will need to take a look at the Rules of the website and Terms of Service so that you are well aware of what you can post and what is not allow on the site. If you really pay attention to the rules and make sure that you are following them you should not have that much trouble with the site’s creators or other users. There are so many types of videos that are being shared on websites like Vidbang that you might end up spending hour upon hours just sitting there watching one video after another until you need to walk away.

Several men are in the changing room of a golf club. A mobile phone on abench rings and a man engages the hands free
speaker-function and begins to talk.

Everyone else in the room stops to listen.

> MAN:
“Hello”?

> WOMAN: “Darling,
it’s me. Are you at the club?”

> MAN: “Yes”

> WOMAN: “I am at the shopping centre and found this beautiful leather coat.
It’s only $ 1,000. Is it OK if I buy it?”

> MAN:

“Sure,..go ahead if you like it that much.”

> WOMAN: “I also stopped by the Mercedes dealership and saw the new 2009
models. I saw one I really liked.”

> MAN: “How much?”

>WOMAN: ” $ 70,000″

>MAN:
“OK, but for that price I want it with all the
options.”

> WOMAN: ”Great! Oh, and one more thing … The house I wanted

last year is back on the
market. They’re asking $ 950,000″

> MAN:
“Well, then go ahead and give them an offer of 900,000.
They will probably take it. If not, we can go the extra 50
thousand. It really is a pretty good price.”

> WOMAN: “OK.
I’ll see you later! I love you so much!!”

MAN: “Bye! I love you,too.”

The man hangs up. Theother men in the changing room are staring at him in
astonishment, mouths agape….. He smiles and asks:

“Anyone knows
who this phone belongs to?”