We need some laughs here!

[Maggie Nell]

No mirror ever became iron again;
No bread ever became wheat;
No ripened grape ever became sour fruit.
Mature yourself and be secure from a change for the worse.
Become the light.

~ Roomie

[Maggie Nell]

BOOMERANG [Finalist of Tropfest Australia 2002]

A short film all about a turd!

A boomerang is a wooden weapon used by Australia's indigenous people. It can be thrown a great distance, and made to come back to the thrower.

This film starts with a well-dressed woman on her way to meet her date at his home. We see her holding her stomach
just before she knocks on the door. He greets her and she asks to use the toilet. She goes into the toilet, drops one*
and flushes. She then notices it hasn't gone down and flushes again and again....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhG44kc4oI0

*Also known as dropping the kids off at the pool.

[CRguy]

I think a few of us here could resonate with this unique way of "dressing up" our surgery scars
..... with a MOST creative tattoo !

[midlifemom]

Oh, I wish the zipper was an option. I've now had three surgeries using the same scar - gall bladder removal (back before laparoscopic was an option), colon resection, liver resection.

[peanut_8]

This fuzzy headed fellow and I are in agreement regarding the zipper tattoo.

[Maggie Nell]

[bitchslapped]

[Maggie Nell]

Images sourced from http://scarfolk.blogspot.com.au/

Scarfolk is a town in North West England that did not progress beyond 1979. Instead, the entire decade of the 1970s loops ad infinitum. Here in Scarfolk, pagan rituals blend seamlessly with science; hauntology is a compulsory subject at school, and everyone must be in bed by 8pm because they are perpetually running a slight fever. "Visit Scarfolk today. Our number one priority is keeping rabies at bay." For more information please reread.

[stu]

"Maggie Nell" takes on "Wee Nicky" could be worth paying to see.

[Maggie Nell]

Dear Goddess, You who never kill but only change:

I pray that my exuberant, suave and accidental words will move you to shower ferocious blessings down on everyone who reads this benediction.

I pray that you will give them what they don't even know they want -- not just the boons they think they need but everything they've always been afraid to even imagine or ask for.

Dear Goddess, You wealthy anarchist burning heaven to the ground:

Many of the divine chameleons out there don't even know that their souls will live forever. So please use your blinding magic to help them see that they are all wildly creative geniuses too big for their own personalities.

Guide them to realize that they are all completely different from what they think they are and more exciting than they can possibly imagine.

Make it illegal, immoral, irrelevant, unpatriotic and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or anything that's no good for them.


O Goddess, You who give us so much love and pain mixed together that our morality is always on the verge of collapsing:

I beg you to cast a boisterous love spell that will nullify all the dumb ideas, bad decisions and nasty conditioning that have ever cursed the wise and sexy virtuosos out there.

Remove, banish, annihilate and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them, no matter how long they've suffered from it, and even if they've become accustomed or addicted to its ugly companionship.

And please conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if they are ever about to act in such a way as to bring another hex or plague or voodoo into their lives in the future.

Dear Goddess, sweet Goddess, You sly universal virus with no 'effing opinion:

I pray that you will help all the personal growth addicts out there become disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation, not destruction.

I pray that you will teach them the difference between oppressive self-control and liberating self-control, awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it is impossible to do the totally right thing.

Arouse the Wild Woman within them -- even if they're men.

And please give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting problems.

Dear Goddess, You pregnant klutz who scorns all mediocre longing:

I pray that you will inspire all the compassionate rascals communing with this prayer to love their enemies just in case their friends turn out to be jerks.

Provoke them to throw away or give away all the things they own that encourage them to believe that they are better than anyone else.

Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they cannot do and do not have.

Most of all, Goddess, brainwash them with your freedom so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else's pain.


Dear Goddess, You psychedelic mushroom cloud at the center of all our brains:

The curiously divine human beings reading this prayer deserve everything they are yearning for and much, much more.

So please bless them with lucid dreams while they are wide awake and solar-energy-operated sex toys that work even in the dark and vacuum cleaners for their magic carpets and a knack for avoiding other people's hells and their very own 900 number so that everyone has to pay to talk to them and a secret admirer who is not a psychotic stalker.


Dear Goddess, You fiercely tender, hauntingly reassuring, orgiastically sacred feeling that is even now running through all of our soft, warm animal bodies:

I pray that you provide everyone out there with a license to bend and even break all rules, laws and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love.

Show them how to purge the wishy-washy wishes that distract them from their daring, dramatic, divine desires.

And teach them that they can have anything they want if they'll only ask for it in an unselfish way.

And now dear God of Gods, God beyond all Gods, Girlfriend of God, Teacher of God, Goddess who invented God, I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that in these mysterious moments you have begun to change everyone out there in the exact way they've needed to change in order to express their soul's code.

Amen. Awomen. And glory halle-plucking-lujah.


click submit

[justin case]

Dear Goddess, You who never kill but only change:

I pray that my exuberant, suave and accidental words will move you to shower ferocious blessings down on everyone who reads this benediction.

I pray that you will give them what they don't even know they want -- not just the boons they think they need but everything they've always been afraid to even imagine or ask for.

Dear Goddess, You wealthy anarchist burning heaven to the ground:

Many of the divine chameleons out there don't even know that their souls will live forever. So please use your blinding magic to help them see that they are all wildly creative geniuses too big for their own personalities.

Guide them to realize that they are all completely different from what they think they are and more exciting than they can possibly imagine.

Make it illegal, immoral, irrelevant, unpatriotic and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or anything that's no good for them.


O Goddess, You who give us so much love and pain mixed together that our morality is always on the verge of collapsing:

I beg you to cast a boisterous love spell that will nullify all the dumb ideas, bad decisions and nasty conditioning that have ever cursed the wise and sexy virtuosos out there.

Remove, banish, annihilate and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them, no matter how long they've suffered from it, and even if they've become accustomed or addicted to its ugly companionship.

And please conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if they are ever about to act in such a way as to bring another hex or plague or voodoo into their lives in the future.

Dear Goddess, sweet Goddess, You sly universal virus with no 'effing opinion:

I pray that you will help all the personal growth addicts out there become disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation, not destruction.

I pray that you will teach them the difference between oppressive self-control and liberating self-control, awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it is impossible to do the totally right thing.

Arouse the Wild Woman within them -- even if they're men.

And please give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting problems.

Dear Goddess, You pregnant klutz who scorns all mediocre longing:

I pray that you will inspire all the compassionate rascals communing with this prayer to love their enemies just in case their friends turn out to be jerks.

Provoke them to throw away or give away all the things they own that encourage them to believe that they are better than anyone else.

Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they cannot do and do not have.

Most of all, Goddess, brainwash them with your freedom so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else's pain.


Dear Goddess, You psychedelic mushroom cloud at the center of all our brains:

The curiously divine human beings reading this prayer deserve everything they are yearning for and much, much more.

So please bless them with lucid dreams while they are wide awake and solar-energy-operated sex toys that work even in the dark and vacuum cleaners for their magic carpets and a knack for avoiding other people's hells and their very own 900 number so that everyone has to pay to talk to them and a secret admirer who is not a psychotic stalker.


Dear Goddess, You fiercely tender, hauntingly reassuring, orgiastically sacred feeling that is even now running through all of our soft, warm animal bodies:

I pray that you provide everyone out there with a license to bend and even break all rules, laws and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love.

Show them how to purge the wishy-washy wishes that distract them from their daring, dramatic, divine desires.

And teach them that they can have anything they want if they'll only ask for it in an unselfish way.

And now dear God of Gods, God beyond all Gods, Girlfriend of God, Teacher of God, Goddess who invented God, I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that in these mysterious moments you have begun to change everyone out there in the exact way they've needed to change in order to express their soul's code.

Amen. Awomen. And glory halle-plucking-lujah.


click submit

In other words, if Maggie Nell has a crush on anyone, punch her in the face, so she can go back to normal .

[Pita]

After being married for 30 years. I took a careful look at my wife today and said " 30 yrs ago we had a cheap house, a junk car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 12 inch b/white TV but I got to sleep with a hot 20 - yr - old girl every night.
Now, l have a $600.000 home, a $170.000 car, a nice big bed and a large screen TV but I'm sleeping with a 50- yr- old woman. It seems to me that you're not holding up your side of things.
My wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot 20- yr- old girl and she would make sure that I once again would be living in a cheap house, driving a junk car, sleeping on a sofa bed and watching a 12 inch black & white TV.

[Maggie Nell]

The dying have their own version of dementia. They drift not only between the real and the not real, the past and the present, but also the living and the dead – and not just the dead they appear to be seeing but the dead the living want to believe they’re seeing. It’s like they’re living in six dimensions, at least two of which exist solely for the benefit of the people standing around watching and listening to them. (“Folks with dementia say the darndest things!”)

“Is that Grandpa you’re talking to?” we ask when they murmur at an empty chair. “Is there someone up there? Tell me!” we plead when they lift their arms in the air and curl their hands over invisible shapes. Science says the grasping gestures are related to changes in brain chemicals as the body shuts down, but my death books said it’s because dying people reach up to greet those who died before them.

A cat visited my mother regularly in her final weeks, at one point jumping on her bed and lying at the foot of it like every cat we had when I was growing up. In the beginning, I’d laughed and told her there was no cat, but with the dying you soon learn the folly of raining on a parade, especially one that might produce
that holy grail of darndest things: insight into the afterlife.

"What kind of cat is it?” I asked, finally. “Is it orange?”

“Black,” she rasped.

We’d had two orange cats, both named Magnificat and called Niffy for short. Niffy One and Niffy Two,
both of which were friendly and affectionate.

In between we’d also had a black tomcat that was an asshole.










How to Make a Better Ouija Board.






words by Megham Daum
found at https://www.theguardian.com/news/2014/n ... t-of-dying

[exaussie]

http://www.heroviral.com/angry-cockatoo/

[Nik Colon]

http://www.heroviral.com/angry-cockatoo/

I'm hoping the bird is a rescue!