KICKING THE HABIT....AGAIN

Over the years I have tried just about every cessation program on the market,
including hypnotism. I normally lasted one day and was back to smoking even
more than before. I tend to sabotage myself; I know this. I know how weak
willed I must sound. But for those of you who have never experienced true
addiction, you will never understand this problem. Yes, smoking is indeed
a crutch I use to escape unpleasantness and yes, I should be able to cope
better than I have done so far. My addiction is a bit harder in that not only
is it a physical addiction, it is also a psychological one. When your addiction
is manifold, you have trouble!

Disgusted with my lack of will-power, I have once again determined that
I SHALL STOP SMOKING. Not only has the price of tobacco soared with new taxes
being imposed every other day and I am spending money I do not need to spend on
purchasing cigarettes, but I am actually just tired of everything involved with
my "habit".

Health and money, you'd think that would be enough incentive to quit cold turkey,
wouldn't you? Don't believe it, never happens, crutches no matter what form they
take are very difficult to give up easily.

I have sabotaged myself twice with the Chantix starter packs. I have enough of
the tablets to begin again by breaking them in half and following the original
instructions. I am now on day six, and I have not gone and purchased any cigarettes,
so far, anyway. No, that sounds rather defeatist and I am determined I shall win my
battle this time. Although you are allowed to smoke while on the Chantix, I know if
I go purchase even one pack, I shall not stop until I smoked every one of them.

I don't need to be reminded of the dire consequence of smoking either. I watched
my Dad die from COPD; his lungs had completely solidified. Addictions are like that.
One can know what horrors are entailed and still be unable to stop.

I don't want anyone ASKING me if I've smoked a cigarette today, either. For some
reason that just pisses me off and makes me want to light one up! So, this blog
is really just a statement of my desire for cessation of my addiction. Now, if anyone just cares to leave me big HUGS, without further comment, that I would greatly
appreciate and will know what the hug really means; SILENT ENCOURAGEMENT.

FACIAL RECOGNITION TEST

Having been specifically asked to do another blog so my "horror eye" is not the first thing one sees; here goes! I actually took this test several days ago, but did not save my results; especially since I was
still in steroid haze. Not that I did too badly; just didn't remember to save it!

Facial Recognition

This is a test to see how well you can remember faces and when. There are two parts A and B, and each part will have 12 photos of faces. You only have a short time, 4 seconds, to see each face before the program moves to the next face. Part A will begin and when that is finished you can start Part B. When Part B is finished, the test will begin. The test will consist of showing 48 faces and below each face you will have a choice of choosing whether you have seen the face, either in Part A or in Part B, or whether or not you have seen the face at all. After you have made you selection for face number 48 your score will appear and you will be able to see how you scored.

Good luck!

Facial Recognition Test

This is a face memory test and quite good.

http://www.bbc. co.uk/science/ humanbody/ sleep/tmt/ instructions_ 1.shtml

NOTE: PICTURE POSTED IS ONLY MEANT TO BE FUNNY; NOT A
PERSONAL COMMENT OF ANY SORT!
(Yahoo also keeps EATING the text of this blog, too! Arrrrrrrgh!!!!!!!!)

CAN'T HELP MYSELF.....another joke!

THE CLOSET

A woman takes a lover home during the day while her husband is at work. Her 9-year old son comes home unexpectedly, sees them and hides in the bedroom closet to watch.

The woman's husband also comes home. She puts her lover in the closet, not realizing that the little boy is in there already.


The little boy says, 'Dark in here.'


The man says, 'Yes, it is.'

Boy - 'I have a baseball.'


Man - 'That's nice.'


Boy - 'Want to buy it?'

Man - 'No, thanks.'

Boy - 'My dad's outside.'


Man - 'OK, how much?'

Boy - '$150'

Man - 'Sold..'

In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the lover are in the closet together.


Boy - 'Dark in here'

Man - 'Yes, it is.'

Boy - 'I have a Wilson infielder's glove.'

The lover, remembering the last time, asks the boy, 'How much?'

Boy - '$350'

Man - 'Highway robbery. Sold.'

A few days later, the father says to the boy, 'Grab your glove and baseball. Let's go outside and have a game of catch.'

The boy says, 'I can't, I sold my ball and my glove.'

The father asks, 'How much did you sell them for?'

The boy says, '$500'

The father says, 'That's terrible to overcharge your friends like that.. that is way more than those two things cost. I'm going to take you to church and make you confess your greed.'

They go to the church and the father makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and he closes the door.

The boy says, 'Dark in here.'

The priest says, 'Don't start that shit again, you're in my closet now.'

ANGER MANAGEMENT....TAKE HEED!

Husband says: When I get mad at you, you never fight back.

How do you control your anger?

Wife says: I clean the toilet.

Husband says: How does that help?

Wife says: I use your toothbrush.

MORE ANGER MANAGEMENT TIPS FOR MALE DRIVERS


This Guy Knows Math.....

I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a female driver, who cut right in front of a pickup truck, causing the driver to drive onto the shoulder to avoid hitting her. This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung his arm out is window and gave the woman the finger.
"Man, that guy is stupid," I thought to myself. I ALWAYS smile nicely and wave in a sheepish manner whenever a female does anything to me in traffic, And here's why:

I drive 48 miles each way every day to work.
That's 96 miles each day.
Of these, 16 miles each way is bumper-to-bumper.
Most of the bumper-to-bumper is on an 8 lane highway.
There are 7 cars every 40 feet for 32 miles.
That works out to 982 cars every mile, or 31,424 cars.
Even though the rest of the 32 miles is not bumper-to-bumper, I figure I pass at least another 4000 cars.
That brings the number to something like 36,000 cars that I pass every day..
Statistically, females drive half of these.
That's 18,000 women drivers!
In any given group of females, 1 in 28 has PMS.
That's 642.
According to Cosmopolitan, 70% describe their love life as dissatisfying or unrewarding.
That's 449.
According to the National Institute of Health, 22% of all females have seriously considered suicide or homicide.
That's 98.
And 34% describe men as their biggest problem.
That's 33.
According to the National Rifle Association, 5% of all females carry weapons and this number is increasing.
That means that EVERY SINGLE DAY, I drive past at least one female that has a lousy love life, thinks men are her biggest problem, has seriously considered suicide or homicide, has PMS, and is armed.

Give her the finger? I don't think so...

DWINDLING HEALTH INSURANCE BENEFITS

TOP TEN INDICATORS THAT YOUR EMPLOYER HAS CHANGED TO A CHEAPER HEALTH CARE PLAN:

(1O) Your annual breast exam is done at Hooters.

(9) Directions to your doctor's office include "Take a left when you enter the
trailer park."

(8) The tongue depressors taste faintly of Fudgesicles.

(7) The only proctologist in the plan is "Gus" from Roto-Rooter.

(6) The only item listed under Preventative Care Coverage is "an apple a day."

(5) Your primary care physician is wearing the pants you gave to Goodwill last
month.

(4) "The patient is responsible for 200% of out-of-network charges," is not a
typographical error.

(3) The only expense covered 100% is "embalming."

(2) Your Prozac comes in different colors with little M's on them.

AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN YOU'VE JOINED A VERY CHEAP HEALTH CARE PLAN:

(1) You ask for Viagra, and they give you a Popsicle stick and duct tape!

It's a JOKE....

Indian Chief 'Two Eagles' was asked by a white government official, "You have observed the white man for 90 years. You've seen his wars and his technological advances. You've seen his progress, and the damage he's done?"

The Chief nodded in agreement.
The official continued, "Considering all these events, in your opinion, where did the white man go wrong?"

The Chief stared at the government official for over a minute and then calmly replied. "When white man find land, Indians running it, no taxes, no debt, plenty buffalo, plenty beaver, clean water. Women did all the work, Medicine man free. Indian man spend all day hunting and fishing; all night having sex."

Then the chief leaned back and smiled.

"Only white man dumb enough to think he could improve system like that."

ONLY IN MISSISSIPPI.................

EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH

An original true story, written by a Battalion Fire Chief in a Mississippi town.

I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential

neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Little did I suspect. I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic.

As I passed an oncoming car; a brown, furry missile shot out from
under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.

It was a squirrel and must have been trying to run across the road when it
encountered the car.

I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals and I really hate it on a motorcycle but a squirrel should pose no danger.

I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear.

Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on
his hind legs and facing my oncoming Harley with steadfast resolve in his
beady little eyes.

His mouth opened and at the last possible second, he
screamed and leapt!

I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you heathen scum!"

The leap was nothing short of spectacular! He shot straight up, flew over my
windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.

Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his
little buddies along for the attack.

Snarling, hissing and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity.

As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet
residential street and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.

And losing...

I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed
to snag his tail.

With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.

It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel.

This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and with the
force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing
impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and
extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with
him!

The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were
continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least.

The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand
(the throttle hand) on the handlebars and my jerking back unfortunately put
a healthy twist through my right hand an into the throttle.

A healthy twist on the throttle of a Harley can only have one result: TORQUE!

This is what the Harley is made for and she is very, very good at it. The
engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.

The squirrel screamed in anger. The Harley screamed in ecstasy.

I screamed in... well, I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser,
dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather
glove and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet
residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his
back.

The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the
handlebars and try to get control of the bike.

This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices but I really did not want to crash into
somebody's tree, house or parked car.

Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle... my brain was just simply overloaded.

I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power
of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI
attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my
full-face helmet with me.

As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity.

It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed
out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front
end started to drop.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove,
roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy
squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now,
the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand.... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled
him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This
time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of... so to speak.

Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on
a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some
paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed
in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze and wearing only one leather
glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder
roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly
into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine... :