Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.
~ Jeff Valdez
Dogs come when they're called; cats take a message and get back to you.
~ Mary Bly
The dog is mentioned in the Bible eighteen times -- the cat not even once.
~ W. E. Farbstein
If a dog jumps in your lap, it is because he is fond of you; but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer.
~ Alfred North Whitehead
Your cat will never threaten your popularity by barking at three in the morning. He won't attack the mailman or eat the drapes, although he may climb the drapes to see how the room looks from the ceiling.
~ Helen Powers
Dogs have Masters. Cats have staff.
~ Anonymous
DISCLAIMER: These views do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the blog author.
Your bedroom isn't cluttered; it's "passage-restrictive."
Kids don't get in trouble anymore. They merely hit "social speed bumps."
You're not having a bad hair day; you're suffering from "rebellious follicle syndrome."
No one's tall anymore. They're "vertically enhanced."
You're not shy. You're "conversationally selective."
You don't talk a lot. You're just "abundantly verbal."
It's not called gossip anymore. It's "transmission of near-factual information."
The food at the school cafeteria isn't awful. It's "digestively challenged"
Your homework isn't missing; it's just having an "out-of-notebook experience."
You're not sleeping in class; you're "rationing consciousness."
You don't have smelly gym socks; you have "odor-retentive athletic footwear"
You weren't passing notes in class. You were "participating in the discreet exchange of penned meditations."
You're not being sent to the Principal's office. You're "going on a mandatory field trip to the administrative building.
There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire become a great writer.
When asked to define "great" he said, "I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!"
He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.
There was a young man from Dun Laoghaire
Who propounded an interesting thaoghaire:
That the language of Erse
Has a shortage of verse
'Cos the spelling makes poets so waoghaire.
It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.
I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way. I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.
Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion. So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads and tails of.
I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.
Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself. She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savoury character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation became more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.
Arrange the odd numbers this way, increasing the number of odd numbers in each row by one each time:
1
3, 5
7, 9, 11
13, 15, 17, 19
. . .
Add the numbers in each row. Can you see a pattern?
(If you have difficulty seeing a pattern, find the cube root of each row total.)
A young man who wants to see the world signs on to a steamship to be trained as a helmsman. He masters the classroom instruction, then starts his practical training on the wheel of the vessel. In his first lesson, the mate gives him a heading, and the young fellow holds to it. Then the mate orders, "Come starboard."
Pleased at knowing immediately which way starboard is, the young man leaves the helm and walks over to his instructor.
The mate has an incredulous look on his face as the helm swings freely. Then, rather gently considering the circumstance, he asks politely, "Could you bring the ship with you?"
