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In Dwelling

I'm Roz, and this is my relaxed space. It's about fun, good conversation and — well yes — good conversation. Pull up a well-padded armchair and help yourself to something to drink. You'll find cheese and crackers on the sideboard. What's new with you?

If you're looking for things in a more serious or spiritual vein, you can check out Exultet where I write that sort of thing.

My friend, go up higher

Probably an oldie, but a goodie.

The Pope goes to New York. He is picked up at the airport by a limousine. He looks at the beautiful car and says to the driver, "You know, I hardly ever get to drive. Would you please let me?"

The driver is understandably hesistant and says, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm supposed to do that."

But the Pope persists, "Please?" The driver finally lets up. "Oh, all right, I can't really say no to the Pope."

So the Pope takes the wheel, and boy, is he a speed demon! He hits the gas and goes around 100 mph in a 45 zone. A policeman notices and pulls him over.

The cop walks up and asks the Pope to roll down the window. Startled and surprised, the young officer asks the Pope to wait a minute. He goes back to his patrol car and radios the chief.

Cop: Chief, I have a problem.

Chief: What sort of problem?

Cop: Well, you see, I pulled over this guy for driving way over the speed limit but it's someone really important.

Chief: Important like the mayor?

Cop: No, no, much more important than that.

Chief: Important like the governor?

Cop: Wayyyyyy more important than that.

Chief: Like the president?

Cop: More.

Chief: Who's more important than the president?

Cop: I don't know, but he's got the Pope driving for him!
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Rising to new depths

For those of you who fancy yourselves to be mediocre writers at best, take heart! You are much better than you might have been, witness the award winners in the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest sponsored by the English department at San Jose State University. The challenge put to the entrants is to write a remarkably bad opening sentence of an imaginary novel; the results can be snort-into-your-milk funny.

The 2006 results are out. Personally, my favorite has to be the runner-up:
"I know what you're thinking, punk," hissed Wordy Harry to his new editor, "you're thinking, 'Did he use six superfluous adjectives or only five?' - and to tell the truth, I forgot myself in all this excitement; but being as this is English, the most powerful language in the world, whose subtle nuances will blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' - well do you, punk?"

But it's not all about adventure and suspense, no sir. Here's an offering for fans of romance:
Her angry accusations burned Clyde like that first bite of a double cheese pizza, when the toppings slide off and sear that small elevation of the oral mucosa, just behind the front teeth, known as the incisive papilla, which is linked to the discriminatory function of the taste buds except, where Clyde was concerned, when it came to women.

Thanks to Jim Manney for the heads up.
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Why didn't I include this on the wedding registry?



From Think Geek.
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Peggy Noonan is smarter than I am

. . . and able to verbalize what I can't . . .
I note here what is to me a mystery. It is that people with lower IQs somehow tend, in our age, to have a greater apprehension of the meaning of things and the reality of life, than do our high-IQ professionals, who often seem, in areas outside their immediate field, startlingly dim. I don't know why intellectuals--or cerebralists or eggheads or IQ hegemonists--seem to miss the most obvious things, floating on untethered by common sense. If you talk to a brilliant scholar at a fine university about social policy, chances are he will say with honest perplexity that he cannot understand--really cannot understand--why people would not want men to marry men, or women women. I wish there were a name for this, for the cluelessness of the more intellectually accomplished, the simpler but truer wisdom of those who are often less lettered and less accomplished.
. . . and considerably more humble.
It is always a delight when you're a writer not to write things you later judge to be idiotic, or, to be charitable to oneself, flawed. But last week I'd no sooner seen my column online than I disagreed not with its assertions and arguments but, I suppose, with its tone. And not only tone, but its incompleteness.
What can I say? I like her. Read the whole piece here.
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I knew I loved this man

It turns out the Pope is not only wise about the things of God; his discernment about sports is also without peer.

HT to Dale Price, with whose home maintenance travails I can truly sympathize.
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Things you learn while cruising the web

Don't confuse your career with your life.
A person who is nice to you but rude to the waiter is not a nice person.
Wisdom from Listen2UncleJay, HT Happy Catholic

Concerned Women for America, Feminists for Life and Focus on the Family are all terrorist organizations.

According to Planned Parenthood as cited by the Curt Jester

A figure of Darth Vader adorns the Episcopal National Cathedral.

Shrine of the Holy Whapping
N.B. I originally thought that this was an accidental resemblance, but no. Here's the story.

Pythons are pretty elastic.

Remember that song, "I'm my own Grandpa?" Click here.

Saving yourself for marriage can pay off in some unexpected ways.

Dad was right. If you stick with your math studies, it really will help you in the future. For instance, you are now able to enjoy things like this.

And finally, how many cats does it take to change a lightbulb?
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Startling, to say the least

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"I can pass this guy."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

(What's really funny about this is that when I went to the results page for the quiz, I was greeted by the following:)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What will your famous last words be?

----------------------------------------------
Ads by Google

Know someone pregnant?

---------------------------

Your famous last words will be . . . .


Somehow, this seems to call for a witty caption, but I just can't seem to come up with the right one at this moment. Help?

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But what about scraping the good stuff off with your front teeth?















From the inimitable Tom McMahon.
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Funny, I don't sound like I'm from Georgia


find your inner PIE @ stvlive.com
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No, this is NOT where I've been all this time

Sister Rosalind gets her own bobblehead doll.
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  • About
      Name:: Roz
      Hometown:: Ann Arbor, MI
      Mother of several, grandmother of a couple, wife to one very good man. My epitaph will probably read, "Well, you just never know." Life is good, but it takes unexpected turns. Good thing I like surprises.


  • Email me.


    And if you're interested in what I have to say in a more serious vein, check out Exultet.

    Other blogs - mostly amusing

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      All of the no all of a sudden.
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      8 years ago
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      Graffiti Artist in Tune with Community Standards
      10 years ago
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      I want to go to this VBS
      10 years ago
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      What Is Kirk Cameron Thinking?
      12 years ago
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