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All That & She Cooks Too!
 
Just stuff we want to share.

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Late Again...
Posted:Sep 24, 2008 9:20 pm
Last Updated:Mar 31, 2013 11:50 pm
11175 Views
"Late again," the third-grade teacher said to little Sammy. "It ain't my fault this time, Miss Crabtree. You can blame this'un on my Daddy. The reason I'm three hours late is my Daddy sleeps naked!" Now, Miss Crabtree had taught grammar school for thirty-some-odd years. Despite her mounting fears, she asked little Sammy what he meant by that. Full of grins and mischief and in the flower of his youth, little Sammy and 'Trouble' were old friends, but he always told Miss Crabtree the truth.

"You see, Miss Crabtree, out at the ranch we got this here lowdown coyote. The last few nights he done et six hens and killed Ma's best milk goat. Last night, when Daddy heard a noise out in the chicken pen, he grabbed his shotgun and said to Ma, 'That coyote's back again, I'm a gonna git him!'

'Stay back,' he whispered to all us . He was naked as a jaybird... no boots, no pants, no shirt! To the hen house he crawled, just like an Injun on the snoop. Then he stuck that double barreled 12-gauge shot gun through the window of the coop. As he stared into the darkness, with coyotes on his mind, our old hound Zeke had done woke up and comes sneakin' up behind Daddy.

Then, as we all looked on plumb helpless, old Zeke stuck his cold nose in Daddy's crack! Miss Crabtree... we all been cleanin' chickens since 3 o'clock this mornin'!!"

0 Comments
Women Are Not Supposed To....
Posted:Aug 22, 2008 9:51 am
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2009 9:22 pm
11015 Views
Women are not supposed to...
Snore,
Burp,
Sweat,
or Pass Gas.

Therefore, we must Bitch, or we will blow up!!

0 Comments
Flannel Shirt and Hip Boots - Oh My!
Posted:Aug 17, 2008 11:06 pm
Last Updated:Jun 15, 2021 12:13 am
10982 Views
After the water had gone down a bit from the Nenana and Tanana flooding, Mr. Hills and I went over to our property to see if there was any damage. We were so very fortunate the water didn't get into the GarageWannaBeHouse where all our building supplies are, or in the sheds where there is more building stuff and brand new appliances.

I took some pictures of the water in the intersections to both sides of our place, and had Mr. walk out to show how deep it was. He had hip boots on at the time... and a flannel shirt...

Now, I have had a *thing* for a man in flannel for a very long time (see the previous blog about Late For Work). Mr. Hills is aware of it, and takes advantage of it quite often. After taking the picture that is posted with this blog, we went back inside the GWBH and I found a chair to rest on. He was standing there talking... just within arms reach... I pulled him over by his belt and gave him my best "Ohhhh.. Are You Gonna Be A Happy Man" smile.

Belt loosened, snap, zzzzzip! Oh, there's what makes me so happy... C'mere, you're cold, and I have a very warm place for you... Busy tongue, nipping with the teeth just a little, cause you like that... Is chilly, leave the flannel on *sweet smile* Stroke it my love, use my mouth that you adore so... feeling you grow bigger, harder, hotter... take the clip from my hair let it fall to my waist... wrap it around both fists and bury yourself deep, deeper, deepest... feel the head slide over the roof of my mouth past my teeth and into the constriction of my throat... hold it there... hold it there... hold it there... short little strokes... make my eyes water and roll in my head...

POP! you pull out of my mouth... making me gasp for much needed air... little lightheaded, but loving it... Now, pulling my hair to lead me to the scaffolding against the wall... You order "Take off your pants, turn around, hold the bottom rung!" kicking my legs apart, you bury your hardness in me... again and again and again... one hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back... other hand dug into the flesh of my hip as you slam me... more please, oh please don't stop... pulling my hair and hips to make me stand on my tippy toes... my knuckles white on the rung of the scaffolding... hearing the low growl start in your throat... pushing yourself to the limit... taking me with you... now, now, NOW!! fill me, please, please, oh please... don't let go of me, my legs don't work...

Gently, hold me up and turn me around... kissing our breathing back to normal... no longer hearing our pulse roaring in our ears... Your blue eyes bright with mischief, you say "Hmmm... never made love with hip boots on before."
1 comment
Late For Work Because Of The Flannel (repost)
Posted:Aug 17, 2008 9:50 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2018 6:52 am
11173 Views
This is a reposted blog from December of last year. - Ms Hills

Soooo, Mr. Hills, was just a little late for work this morning. Seems *someone* had other ideas about his getting dressed in his long johns and jeans and flannels... It's the flannel you see *sigh* It's that whole Al Boreland Fantasy thing. Gotta love a Flannel Man.

Mr. had flannel shirt with black T-shirt underneath on, and was putting on his long johns, I was still in our Big Bed O' Wonders, watching him with a lil half smile on my face. He came just within reaching distance and suddenly had a little *help* with his dressing, or undressing as it were. Lightly stroking the outside of his Hanes (feels good all under to be sure), warming up my cold hand, feeling him twitch and hearing his low moan as he responds, watching his face as he glances at the clock on the head of the bed, weighing his decision carefully, knowing already what it's going to be...

Hard and ready he is now, get rid of the Hanes, hands are warm, mouth is warmer, no, no, please leave the flannel on. One hand in my hair, other holding flannel just out of the way, bed is just the right height (planned it that way when I had it built), tasting the salty sweetness, feeling the pulse on my tongue. Now, please, fuck me...

Hard, hot, fast, now, now, now.... Just get it, I'm right there with you, raking nails, heels locked behind legs, teeth in shoulder, gasping, mouth open, eyes locked on yours, now, please, fill me...

Heartbeat back to almost normal now, warm moist cloth, kisses, kisses, and more kisses, huge grin on his face, finish getting dressed again, again, again...

It's the Flannel, must be the Flannel.
1 comment
I Want To Know...
Posted:Aug 15, 2008 9:34 pm
Last Updated:Jan 7, 2019 12:01 am
11058 Views
I Want To Know...

It dosn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting
your hearts longing...

It dosn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love, for your dream,
for the adventure of being alive...

It dosn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by lifes betrayals,
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain...

I want to know if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own
without moving to hide it,
or fade it,
or fix it...

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic,
to remember the limitations of being human...

It dosn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul...

I want to know if you can see beauty
even when it's not pretty everyday,
and source your own life from it's presence...

I want to know if you can live with failure,
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon
"YES!"...

It dosn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and dispair
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done
to feed the ...

It dosn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
and not shrink back...

It dosn't interest me where or what,
or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from inside
when all else falls away...

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments...
0 Comments
Loved This Cartoon!!!
Posted:Jul 30, 2008 12:32 am
Last Updated:Aug 19, 2008 10:22 pm
10797 Views
I got this in an email the other day and laughed so hard!! Enjoy!

Ms Hills
0 Comments
The Blue (Brown) Goose
Posted:Jun 19, 2008 8:08 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2018 6:58 am
11482 Views
I know I haven't been posting very much on our lil bloggie page and this is the reason why. We are in the process of moving to our property in Nenana, a small village about 70 miles south of Fairbanks. I'm sitting here now surrounded by packed boxes, boxes that need to be packed, and stuff for storage here in town, the shed in Nenana, and The Bus.

Now, The Bus isn't just any old bus... it's a very special bus, even has a name, The Blue Goose (it was actually quite blue before being painted a more sedate brown). Mr. Hills' father took a 1969 International 70-passenger Air Force Bus, and turned it into a motor home. It took him 3 years to get it done and what a marvelous creation he made! The reason he built it was for him and Mr Hills' mom to travel back and forth from Alaska to Mexico, which they did for about 15 years. She passed away in November of 2003, from cancer, but her spirit and special touches are in The Bus.

The Bus is going to be our new home until the GarageWannaBeHouse is done. It's going to be cozy, but with Mr Hills working 8 days at Denali Park and then home for 6, we shouldn't get too sick of each other... lol. As you can see from the picture, The Bus is pretty beat up on the outside, but you would be too if you had over 400,000 miles on you over roads from Alaska to Mexico and back!! The inside is a totally different story. When we get done cleaning it out and moved in, I will take some pictures to post here.

It's truly amazing the craft-work Mr. Hills' father put into it. Now, remember this was the mid 80s. He stripped out the inside til all was left was the driver's seat, the roof and walls and some of the windows. He started with tongue-&-groove knotty pine throughout, rounded ceiling (he's over 6 ft tall), built a platform for a queen size bed with four pull-out drawers underneath and cupboards above, also done in the knotty pine. There is a huge closet to the right coming out of the bedroom and to the left is a 4 ft tub and shower, lil sink, and commode on a platform with the grey water tanks underneath.

Then, the kitchen... I cook, a lot, and evidently so did Mr. Hills' mom. From the wall between the kitchen and bathroom to just behind the driver's seat is all knotty pine cupboards. On the wall between the bathroom and kitchen is a floor to ceiling pantry cupboard. There is a cute lil double sink with running water and a water heater underneath. There is a 4-burner propane range top and full size oven above, with more cupboards on either side and underneath. He even made a space big enough for a full size fridge!

He built a desk with 4 drawers on either side. This will be my work area, as I work from home. I had him turn The Bus around so I am looking at the woods instead of the sheds and all the stuff that needs to be taken away or buried. On the other side of the aisle, he built 2 benches with storage underneath and behind, with a removable Plexiglas table top in between.

Like I said, it's truly amazing what he built, and I am honored that he trusts us to live in it and take care of it. If you ever get to Nenana, look us up, and see for yourself how marvelous The Blue (Brown) Goose is!
2 Comments
Job Application
Posted:Jun 16, 2008 6:46 pm
Last Updated:Jun 19, 2008 10:37 pm
11043 Views
My Resimay

To hoom it mae cunsern,

I waunt to apply for the job what I saw in the paper. I kin Type realee qwik wit one finggar and do sum a counting.

I think I am good on the fone and I no I am a pepole person. I no my spelling is not too good.

My salerery is open, I kin start emeditely. Thank yoo in advanse fore yore anser.

Sinseerly,

BRYAN

PS : Because my resimay is a bit short - below is a pickture of me. (click on photo/icon)

Employer's response:

Dear Bryan ,

It's okay honey; we've got spell check.

See you Monday.

Thank you,

Shirley
0 Comments
Baby Boomer Top Hits - Revised
Posted:May 28, 2008 7:50 pm
Last Updated:Jun 19, 2008 10:37 pm
11456 Views
If it weren't so true it might be funny...

It was fun being a baby boomer... until now. It seems some of the artists of the 60's are revising their hits with new lyrics to accommodate aging baby boomers.

Herman's Hermits--- Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Walker.

Ringo Starr--- I Get By With a Little Help From Depends.

The Bee Gees--- How Can You Mend a Broken Hip.

Bobby Darin--- Splish, Splash, I Was Havin' a Flash.

Roberta Flack--- The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face.

Johnny Nash--- I Can't See Clearly Now.

Paul Simon--- Fifty Ways to Lose Your Liver.

The Commodores--- Once, Twice, Three Times to the Bathroom.

Marvin Gaye--- Heard It Through the Grape Nuts.

Procol Harem--- A Whiter Shade of Hair.

Leo Sayer--- You Make Me Feel Like Napping.

The Temptations--- Papa's Got a Kidney Stone.

Abba--- Denture Queen.

Tony Orlando--- Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall.

Helen Reddy--- I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore.

Leslie Gore--- It's My Procedure, and I'll Cry If I Want To.

And who can't relate to this:

Willie Nelson--- On the Commode Again.
2 Comments
Short Fairy Tale
Posted:May 22, 2008 10:23 pm
Last Updated:May 29, 2008 9:04 pm
11184 Views
One day...
a long, long, long time ago,
there lived a woman
who did not whine,
nag or bitch.

But that was a long time ago...

and it was just that one day.

The End
0 Comments
Who's Yo' Daddy???
Posted:May 21, 2008 10:40 pm
Last Updated:May 23, 2008 3:15 pm
11228 Views
The following are all replies that Detroit women have written on Support Agency Forms in the section for listing father's details or putting it another way.... Who's yo' Daddy?

These are genuine excerpts from their forms. Be sure to check out #11. It takes 1st prize and #3 is runner up.

1. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins, Makeeshia was fathered by Maclearndon McKinley I am unsure as to the identity of the father of Marlinda, but I believe that she was conceived on the same night.

2. I am unsure, as to the identity of the father of my as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

3. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party at 3600 East Grand Boulevard where I had sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father, can you please send me his phone number Thanks.

4. I don't know the identity of the father of my . He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he's had it replaced.

5. I have never had sex with a man. I am still a Virginian. I am awaiting a letter from the Pope confirming that my 's conception was ejaculate and that he is the Saver risen again.

6. I cannot tell you the name of Alleshia dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.

7. I do not know who the father of my was as they all look the same to me.

8. Tyrone Hairston is the father of A. If you do catch up with him, can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs B who was also borned at the same time.....well, I don't have clue.

9. From the dates it seems that my was conceived at Disney World, maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.

10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a program about eggs earlier in the evening. If I had stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at 8956 Miller Ave, mine might have remained unfertilized.

11. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my baby, after all, like when you eat a can of beans you can't be sure which one made you fart.

Yep, you guessed it right - you are all paying taxes to support them!
1 comment
So, Why DID The Chicken Cross The Road?
Posted:May 17, 2008 1:05 am
Last Updated:May 21, 2008 10:41 pm
11184 Views
Why did the chicken cross the road?

GRANDPA:
In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

BARACK OBAMA:
The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a CHANGE! The chicken wanted CHANGE!

JOHN McCAIN:
My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialog with all the chickens on the other side of the road.

HILLARY CLINTON:
When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure -- right from Day One! -- that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.......

DR. PHIL:
The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on 'THIS' side of the road before it goes after the problem on the 'OTHER SIDE' of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his 'CURRENT' problems before adding 'NEW' problems.

OPRAH:
Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

GEORGE W. BUSH:
We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us or for us. There is no middle ground here.

COLIN POWELL:
Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road...

ANDERSON COOPER - CNN:
We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

JOHN KERRY:
Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now and will remain against it.

PAT BUCHANAN:
To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART:
No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

DR SEUSS:
Did the chicken cross the road?
Did he cross it with a load?
Yes, the chicken crossed the road,
but why it crossed I've not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY:
To die. In the rain. Alone.

JERRY FALWELL:
Because the chicken was GAY! Can't you people see the plain truth?! That's why they call it the 'other side.' Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media white washes with seemingly harmless phrases like 'the other side'. That chicken should not be crossing the road. It's as plain and as simple as that.

BARBARA WALTERS:
In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.

ARISTOTLE:
It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

JOHN LENNON:
Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together, in peace.

BILL GATES:
I have just released eChicken 2008, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your check book. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken. This new platform is much more stable and will never cra...#@&&^(C% .........reboot.

ALBERT EINSTEIN:
Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

BILL CLINTON:
I did NOT cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE:
I invented the chicken!

COLONEL SANDERS:
Did I miss one?

AL SHARPTON:
Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.
0 Comments

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