G'Maen all!

Ooh, snowdrops! I haven't seen them yet this year! We just had snow this weekend (two whole days of it).

*grumbles* Why did it have to be such bad wheather in the weekend! I wanted to go out!

At least I convinced my boyfriend to go to the cinema (we had reserved tickets for Harry Potter).

Yalahii.

*LOL*

I dreamed of sailing last night.

Yalahii.

There is a story about a popular young rabbi, who on Sabbath eve announces to the congregation that he will not renew his contract and is moving on to a larger congregation that will pay him more.

There is a hush.  No one wants him to leave.

Epstein, who owns several car dealerships, stands up and announces, "If the rabbi stays, I'll provide him with a new sedan every year, and his lovely wife with a mini van, to transport their children!"

The congregation sighs, and applauds.

Goldstein, the entrepreneur and investor stands and says, "If the rabbi stays, I'll double his salary, and establish a foundation to guarantee the college education of his children!!"

More sighs and applause.

Old Mrs. Goldfarb, aged 96, stands and announces, "If the rabbi stays, I offer SEX!!"

There is a hush. The rabbi, blushing, asks, "Mrs. Goldfarb, whatever possessed you to say that?"

Mrs. Goldfarb answers, "I just asked Mr. Goldfarb what we could contribute to make the rabbi stay. Mr. Goldfarb said,
'Fuck the rabbi.'"

*LOL*

Yalahii.

A preacher was completing a temperance sermon. With great expression he said, "If I had all the beer in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river."

With even greater emphasis he said, "And if I had all the wine in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river."

And then finally, he said, "And if I had all the whiskey in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river." He sat down.

The song leader then stood very cautiously and announced with a smile, "For our closing song, let us sing Hymn 365:Shall We Gather at the River."

*bounces into the Greenhouse to check out some flowers*

*decides to take a frolic with the sheep*

*Laughs at the jokes and the frolicing Sheryn*

yalahii.

Technical Night Before Christmas

'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus.
   
Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconcious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal had coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, nothing thereupon that the lunar brilliance without reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller.
   
With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertignious velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and wasperforming a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by wary of thesmoke passage.
He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue fromoxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof.

His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the  plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodius cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the
former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry.

His amusing sub and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes forming a tenuous elllipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly.

His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and than elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from the aforementioned previously
dorsally transported cloth receptacle.

Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt aboutface, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium
forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and
forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage.

He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility:

"Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn.

Paddy gets a phone call from Murphy.  "Paddy," says Murphy, "I've got a
problem."
"What's the matter?" replies Paddy
"Oi've bought a jigsaw and it's too hard.  None of the pieces fit
together, and I can't find any edges."
"What's the picture of?" asks Paddy
"It's of a big cockerel," Murphy replies.
Paddy says, "Alroight, Murphy, Oi'll come over and have a look."
He gets to Murphy's house and Murphy opens the door.  "Oh thanks for
coming Paddy."  He leads Paddy into the kitchen and shows him the jigsaw
on the kitchen table.
Paddy looks at the jigsaw, then turns to Murphy and says, "For God's sake
Murphy, put the cornflakes back in the packet."

*LOL*

G'Maen all.

*hangs up festoons or whatever they are called, places cakes and drinks on a big table and waits to see who will show up for the party*

yalahii.

is it your birthday? if so, happy birthday

actually, i brought a pie, still hot from my father's oven... rhubarb apricot pie. the greatest. i also brought an apricot pie, for those of us that have problems with things like rhubarb.

*birthday frenzy*

Happy birthday, O Sagely One!