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Grandmother has fallen in love with her Grandson

Sadly, it's true. A grandmother has freely admitted that she's in love with her grandson and her grandson is in love her her.

Oh how I wish hell would just open up and swallow these incestuous sons-of-b*tches!



72 year old biddy Pearl said she's never been happier. She's ecstatic because she's in love with her 26-year-old grandson, Phil Bailey.

Old age Pensioner Pearl from Indiana in the United States is using her state benefits to pay a surrogate mother so that her and her grandson can have a child together.

As far as Pearl's concerned, she has absolutely no interest whatsoever in what anyone else thinks about their union. She said she's in love with Phil and Phil's in love with her.

She also said that soon they'll be holding their baby son or daughter in their arms and her Phil will be a proud daddy.

Phil is the son of Pearl's daughter Lynette Bailey - who she put up for adoption when she was 18-years-old.

When his mother died, Phil tracked down his long lost grandmother and they met and fell in love.

If I see Phil and Pearl when I'm in Death's Waiting Room, they better use the opposite door to mine because if I'm in the queue behind them walking towards a door that says "ENTER", I'll know there and then that any minute now, I'll be riding in a fast car to hell.

There's hope for us all

My sister and her husband are good friends with a couple who live at the end of their road.

My sister complained about her neighbour Alan in the past because Alan wasn't exactly what we'd call a sophisticated man and he was quite bullish towards his wife. She also complained about Alan's wife and said she was a bit of a fire-cracker. Stubborn, feisty, swore like a sailor and sometimes overbearing. So if my sister and her husband shared an evening with the couple, as much as they liked them as individuals and they got along well as two couples, my sister Sheba said she'd return home exhausted because Alan and Cheryl insisted on fighting; one-upmanship and cussing the life out of one another all day and all night long.

Sheba said initially it was entertaining but the joke's worn off now.

About 18 months ago, Alan was made redundant and decided that there must be more to life and went off by himself to seek some Life Coaching. Shortly after his first session, he decided to change his profession, change his ways and change his whole outlook on life. Alan did this as a solo effort and left Cheryl to continue her life as it was. But Alan's change was remarkable. He was driven, decisive, considerate, loving, caring and patient. The new Alan became such a delight for Cheryl that she did everything in her power to maintain this new and improved Alan so Cheryl also decided to book twelve sessions with a Life Coach.

The new and improved couple said that changing their outlook on life has changed them both for the better and they're much happier.

I guess there's hope for us all. When life isn't working for us; if we're mindful, we have the ability to make a choice to change our way of thinking, being and doing. Even a little change sometimes can make a huge difference

Election

While walking down the street one day a Member of Parliament is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

'Welcome to heaven' says St. Peter. 'Before you settle in, it seems there's a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts you see, so we're not sure what to do with you.' 'No problem' said the MP, 'just let me in'. 'Well, I'd like to' said St. Peter, 'but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.'

'Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,' says the MP. 'I'm sorry, but we have our rules'. And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club-house and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne. Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly and nice guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realises it, it's time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises....

The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him. Now it's time to visit heaven. So, 24 hours pass with the MP joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realises it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

'Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.'

The MP reflects for a minute, then he answers: ' Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.'

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and rubbish. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the rubbish and putting it in black bin bags as more rubbish falls from above.

The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. 'I don't understand' stammers the MP. 'Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club-house and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a waste-land full of garbage and my friends look miserable.
What happened?'

The devil looks at him, smiles and says, 'Yesterday we were campaigning... Today you voted!

I'm sure we can find this person a job somewhere?

Resumay / Sea-Vee

To hoom it mae cunsern:

I waunt to apply for the job what I saw in the paper.

I can Type realee quik wit one finggar and do sum a counting..

I think I am good on the fone and I no I am a pepole person. Pepole really seam to respond to me well. Certain men and all the ladies.

I no my spellign is not to good but fi nd that I Offen can get a job thru my persinalety.

My salerery is open so we can discus wat you want to pay me and wat you think that I am werth,

I can start emeditely. Thank you in advanse fore yore anser.

hopifuly Yore best aplicant so farr.

Sinseerly,

BRYAN

PS. Because my resumay is a bit short - below is a pickture of me.



Employer's response:

Dear Bryan,

It's OK honey, we've got spell check.

See you Monday.

Fatorexia! I see Slim People...

I swear I can't keep up with these descriptive trends and new fandangled words. It's bad enough trying to decipher people's text messages these days. What with LOL (laugh out loud), ZUP (what's up?), WTF (what the f***), CW8 (can't wait), L8R (later), RUS (are you serious?), @TEOTD (at the end of the day), 1DR (I wonder), NFW (no f**** way)! And sometimes they even kiss both my cheeks to say goodbye via text message with 'mwa-mwa'. Getting my head around initals and morse code is frying my brains. Or should I say FMB!

Now I have to wrap my head around terms like metrosexuals (men in tune with their feminine side but not gay), surgeorac (a lover of plastic surgery), lesbicons (a "straight" woman who kisses women after a few drinks), nine-to-five gangsters (people who work by day and hussle by night) and fatorexics (fat woman, thin reflection).

This new one on me is fatorexics. A delusional woman who looks in the mirror and sees a toned beautiful Halle Berry instead of... well I guess a polite way to put it is something more like Norbit's wife.

Who am I to talk anyway? Every week, I look in the mirror and think I look beautiful. I have a vainglorious conversation with the mirror all the time. I often wake up, see my reflection and I'm one hundred percent convinced that I'm gorgeous... good enough to eat. I say to myself, 'Miss Mayfield, you look like all things bright and beautiful'.

'Mwa-Mwa'

My Shattered Illusions!

I saw the most gorgeous specimen of a man on the tube this morning. He seemed like the kind of thing you see on a Sean John catwalk and not on the Northern Line getting on at Clapham South!



He smelt gorgeous and if you know anything about me, you'll know that I love the smell of a clean man giving off the aroma of Calvin Klein cologne.

When he got on the tube, I made sure that I faced him in a way that I wouldn't be directly staring at him. I wanted to be seen without obviously looking like I wanted to be seen!

I saw him glancing at me several times and from the expression on his face, he liked what he saw thank God. To think I was going to wear my green dress this morning; it kinda makes me look like Kermit the Frog so I'm so glad I opted for hues of blue. Blue makes me look like I'm not trying too hard!

We'd been travelling for about 15 minutes when the carriage started clearing and we were able to sit down. I sat down first and two stops later he sat beside me.

Well Lord have his Mercy... this man had the courage to start a conversation with me. He was talkative and inquisitive; asking where I lived, where I worked, where was I off to this morning, where I originated from. He even said he liked my jewellery and said my ring was unique. And then he stuck his little finger up his nose, stirred it around like he was stirring cream in a coffee cup, pulled his finger out, looked at the bogey, rolled it between his thumb and little finger and flicked it on the floor.

I jumped off the tube like the devil was chasing me. If the doors didn't open in that second, I would have prized it apart and jumped out anyway. I hadn't even arrived at my destination but that didn't stop me; three stops too early was all good. All I know is I was in a hurry to put distance between me and that dirty son of a b*tch.

What a disappointment... being chatted up by the Bogey Man!

She's in Barbados but her boss thinks she's in bed with a chest infection!

My cousin Sophia went to Barbados for a one week getaway with her boyfriend Martin.

Her boyfriend is a DJ and was playing at a wedding in Bridgetown. The bride and groom were paying for EVERYTHING and Martin was staying in a 5 star, all-inclusive hotel. So at Martin's suggestion, Sophia decided that she'd tag along for a fabulous holiday. All she had to do was pay for her ticket.

Sophia had a little bit of a dilemma though. She didn't have enough holiday dates to take off from work so she decided to call in sick and told her boss that she'd be off for a week because she had a chest infection. Only it's day 9 now and Sophia's stranded in Barbados because her flight back home has been cancelled until next Monday due to the Icelandic Eyjafjallajokull volcanic eruption and the volcanic ash floating around the airways. By the way, I don't know how to pronounce Eyjafjallajokull either; I'm just showing off!!

I hate to say it, but I told her so. I told her, I told her, I told her. I said Soph, ask for unpaid leave or say that someone died abroad or something; anything other than taking a sickie. But oh no... she doesn't tell a little white lie, she goes and tells a great big whopper and now she's going to get the sack or she'll have to tell a bigger lie to cover the original lie to keep her job and before you know it, Sophia's on a broke woman's road to hell!

When I spoke to her last night, they were having a brilliant time. She was sunbathing in her bikini, sipping a Mojito, on a boat, on her mobile in the middle of the Caribbean sea. I guess she'd better enjoy her little taste of paradise because when she gets back next week, she won't be in the middle of the Caribbean, she'll be in the middle of a tribunal, grovelling for her job!

I've won!

...or have I?

Well in fact, I don't think I have. How could I win something and then be asked for my credit card or debit card details?

This is what happened. I entered a competition. I enter so many I can't even remember where I saw it. All I know is the man on the other end of the phone very excitedly told me that I was a winner and my wonderful prize was a pampering session for the day which ends with a free photo-shoot.

I love being a winner, so I was very happy and almost as excited as the man on the phone giving me the good news. He explained that I could have a date of my choosing up until July 2010 and I could invite a guest but the guest had to pay for all the things I was getting for free. Already, I couldn't imagine inviting my sister Sheba, saying to her you can come along but I pay for nothing and you pay for EVERYTHING!

Anyway, the man still had excitement in his voice when he told me to arrive in the morning without products in my hair and no make up. I would then be given a full makeover, a hair re-style and some clothes. I said to him that I didn't want anyone touching my hair, not even to brush it. My hair belongs to my hairdresser Pauline and no one else is allowed to come within two inches of it. I think he thought I was joking because there was silence on the other end of the phone and then a little false laugh. He then continued to say in order to secure the date, I had to pay a £100 deposit.

Say what? One hundred of my pounds. Oh hell no! Not this this girl. I said to him but I thought I won. He said yes, but in order to secure the date we have to collect a deposit. I said to him "no, not on this occasion you don't" and hung up the phone.

I wasn't born yesterday, nor the day before!