Why don't ninjas get along with pirates?

An age old question, with an age-old answer.

It's an interesting story actually...Ninjas and Pirates used to be the best of friends and were for many, many years paired as roommates. Each Pirate had a Ninja roommate and each Ninja a Pirate roommate. It was a natural relationship that worked quite well for many years. They would take picnics on the ships and swim in the sea together. They would play pranks on each other where Pirates would loudly storm into a town only to discover the Ninja had already snuck in and killed everyone without a sound. They enjoyed diving competitions off the ship's diving board and the Ninja would flaunt their skills with various high dives and trapeze-like acrobatics off of the various masts of the ship. The Pirates would teach their Ninja roomies how to swear, swashbuckle and ravish women, and the Ninjas would teach the pirates how to keep their blacks from fading in the wash.

Household chores generally entailed washing of the scabbards and throwing stars, repairing things broken in the previous evening's revelries (between the swordfights and the stealth attacks, enough damage was done that they rarely got their security deposits back), and of course general dusting and cleaning of all dirt and blood marred surfaces.

Ninjas of course are a little more fastidious, tidy, and OCD than Pirates, and even though they both worked the night shift it was generally the Ninja who were up first to clean. This may seem like an unfair arrangement, but the Pirates provided other services to the Ninja that helped even the score. You see, for many years the Pirates had been providing both women and drink for their Ninja friends. Ninjas of course being notoriously ugly under their masks and only having occasional success with the whole "mystique" of a secret masked-man sneaking into a woman's room after midnight; Ninja had very little success in locating available and willing women and even when they did, their habit of killing them immediately after, made resources quite scarce. So Pirates brought and shared women for their Ninja brethren and since their Ninja friends refused to have any pockets for carrying an ID and moreover refused to have their pictures taken, the Pirates also purchased or otherwise obtained all the alcohol for their parties.

Then one day a young Ninja, fed up, and ignoring some of the "fringe benefits" of his pirate roommate, finally got tired of hauling about big chests of pirate booty. They were on their 17th move that year, their 17th security deposit, and each and every time his Pirate roommate and he got a new apartment his roommate would suddenly have a pressing raid, or a hat fitting, or a sword fighting lesson and would never be around to help out. The Ninja ditched his roommate’s stuff, and secretly moved into his own place. Soon after he began bragging to other Ninja about his Spartan, minimalistic, "no-heavy load" lifestyle and soon all the Ninja were eschewing material possessions and refusing to help carry chests, swords, barrels and whatnot with their Pirate friends and roommates.

So the jilted Pirates moved out of their apartments, gathered their belongings onto their ships and moved onto the sea altogether so that they wouldn't have to deal with what they thought of as the Ninja's attempts to get out of hard work and jealousy of their riches, women, and ability to purchase alcohol legally.

So, now that the Pirates were all living on their ships and the Ninjas weren't "getting any" they were all a little depressed. The Pirates began letting themselves go and had such bad hygiene that their teeth began to fall out, and their beards got ragged and they smelled so bad that occasionally the captain would have to force someone off the diving board just to get rid of the stench. Several times a depressed sailor, sad, and overladen with filth and personal belongings, would just give up on his life and sink to the bottom, hence the term "walking the plank" became less about the sport of acrobatic diving and more about a man's last stinky breath.

The ninjas were depressed too, and began to meet in the dark of night and have parties on the "down low" and since they were in their ninja gear, no one could accuse another of having seen them at these parties. They prided themselves on their clean, simple lifestyle and put up signs refusing admittance to "stinky pirates and the unclean" from any of the side businesses they secretly ran (mostly hair salons, dance clubs and sushi restaurants).

The pirates found out about the ninjas nighttime pursuits and told all the women in all the ports they visited about the sissy men who couldn't get women who might sneak-in in the dark of night. The women lost all their fear and curiosity of the no-longer-mysterious ninjas and would simply laugh at them whenever they snuck in.

This revelry has lasted generations, and most Ninja and Pirates no longer remember the great symbiotic relationship their two peoples once had, and only have been taught to mock and ridicule their counterpart, or occasionally to flip out and kill each other.

This enmity has endured to this day, and they still don't get along.

Drunken Chickens

The chickens were drunk again, and there was no stopping their boastful strutting or their loud and raucous calls. As they stumbled about leaning on each other and occasionally falling and ending up with a beak full of dust they sang the song of the Olde Country “BaaaK..bukbukbuk…ba..ba.BaaaaK” it went on, “Buh..ba..bu buh bah,bah, bah Baaaak”

The other animals cringed and retreated further into their homes. The pigs were the only ones to remain outside and that was probably only due to pure laziness.
If anytime were a bad time for a henhouse crisis, surely this was it. But somehow that didn’t keep there from being one.

Having gnawed through three layers of wood, two layers of cardboard and a thick plastic cable Morty, the rat with an insatiable appetite for non-food items, was now getting down to business on a few wires at the back of the barn when his entire body suddenly went rigid. Morty’s eyes, although usually beady and active, grew to twice their normal size and fixed permanently wide-open and bulging. Morty’s matted and dirty brown fur raised up from his body, repelling dirt and gleaming slightly as he and the hay around him burst into a smoky burning lump with a tail. At least that’s the way the sheep told it some time later, but they are known to exaggerate. The remaining black lump (with a tail) however would tend to corroborate.

When the fire reached the three-storied hen house the first few chickens out stumbled and fell. The pile up of chickens that followed would have made a KFC bucket of chicken look like a child-size appetizer and by the time the last few chickens escaping the hen house forced their way out there was the sad and mournful smell of a rich, smoky mouth-watering aroma filling the air. Had the person who wrote the expression “a chicken with their head cut off” been there that night and seen the chaos spread by thirteen flaming chickens running amuck that classic cliché might have turned out entirely differently.

Working on Titles

Titles can say the same thing and sound so different:

The Case of the Stolen Tea Cups...
They Stole My Tea Cups.
And all they stole were my tea cups...
Break in reported, teacups missing.
Missing tea cups--theft suspected.
Have you seen my teacups?
Reward: Lost teacups.
Lost or stolen? Missing teacups.

characters leaving

After my good friend Nikki's significant other walked out the door, she forwarded an e-mail to the rest of us that another friend had sent her. Basically it said that when someone leaves you for whatever reason LET THEM GO. THEIR PART IN YOUR STORY IS O.V.E.R. There have been a few times since then when I had to take that piece out and re-read it. One really pinched two years ago when I'd thought I'd found a very compatible companion and after a few wonderful dates, he moved on. It really is easier when you remind yourself that if it was meant to be, it would have been, their part in the s tory is really over and you need to move on yourself.

Short stories and other true tales

“If I were to challenge you to a dual and you were to accept, and should one of us die in the process, would the world be gaining a hero or losing one?”

It was with these immortal words that my captain, my consul, my teacher and my guru taught me of the foolishness of seeking pride in the eyes of others. He showed me that we can all be heroes and we can all be villains. It is only a woman truly the master of her destiny that can become a true hero. It is only circumstance and fate that allow us see those possibilities for brief moments of time where we can be heroes in the eyes of the public, while we see those moments far more often outside of their eyes, when the lines between life and death aren’t drawn and the line of right and wrong is ours to determine.

It was with these words that I began my training as a ninja.

It was on a cold and windy day that I first met my master. I was foolish and carefree and believed I was a fighter. I had challenged three men in my life and each of them had been quickly dispatched. It was only days after my last kill, and I was visiting a village on a remote island. I had come as a sailor aboard a ship that traded my labor for my passage. I entered that village full of anger and hatred and pride. I didn’t leave for nearly three years and when I did I was not the same woman I was when I entered.

I cannot reveal much that happened in those three years, but the training I received made me ______


The chickens were drunk again, and there was no stopping their boastful strutting or their loud and raucous calls. As they stumbled about leaning on each other and occasionally falling and ending up with a beak full of dust they sang the song of the Olde Country “BaaaK..bukbukbuk…ba..ba.BaaaaK” it went on, “Buh..ba..bu buh bah,bah, bah Baaaak”

The other animals cringed and retreated further into their homes. The pigs were the only ones to remain outside and that was probably only due to pure laziness.

If anytime were a bad time for a henhouse crisis, surely this was it. But somehow that didn’t keep there from being one.

Having gnawed through three layers of wood, two layers of cardboard and a thick plastic cable Morty the rat was now getting down to business on a few wires at the back of the barn when his entire body went rigid and his eyes did something crazy and all his fur and the hay around him burst into a smoky burning lump with a tail. At least that’s the way the sheep told it, but they are prone to exaggerating.

When the fire reached the three storied hen house the first few chickens out stumbled and fell. The pile up of chickens that followed would have made a KFC bucket of chicken look like a child-size appetizer and by the time the last few chickens escaping the hen house forced their way out there was the sad and mournful smell of a rich, smoky mouth-watering aroma filling the air. Had the person who wrote the expression “a chicken with their head cut off” been there that night and seen the chaos spread by thirteen flaming chickens running amuck that classic cliché might have turned out quite differently.




“They must only hire people who just follow the rules and can’t think for themselves at this company then. I don’t see how they think that’s customer service.” He said.
I looked at him an furrowed my brow.
“I’m not saying you.” No, of course not, it’s just that the company hired me, but obviously I can’t think for myself otherwise I’d be able to understand how his statement didn’t apply to me.
“So you really can’t change the delivery charge?”
“No, I can’t.”
“And you’re not going to sell me the floor model.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Well you’re not trying to help me at all are you?”
“I can have the piece to you in two weeks, it’s back ordered right now, that’s the best I can do.”
“And even though it’s back ordered you’re not going to give me a deal on delivery?”
“Our normal time quote is one to two weeks, it’s backordered by 9 days, I can still have it to you within two weeks…”
“And you can’t just give me this one?”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s the display model, and it’s not for sale, we need it to show customers what it looks like.”
“This is ridiculous. Why can’t you even try to work with me?”
“I’m trying to help you sir, but your asking me the same questions and seeming to expect different answers…
“Well that’s because you’re not trying to help me.”
“Sir, you can either believe me when I say that the soonest I can get you the piece is in two weeks, or you can believe that I’m somehow hiding information from you and really CAN get you the piece and just don’t want to, or you can believe that I am some kind of idiot and haven’t thought of some completely obvious alternative that you’re going to discover by asking me the same questions over and over again, but I assure you that in the end the answer is still going to be that the soonest I can get you that piece is in two weeks.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“I agree.”
“See, so even you think your company is ridiculous.”
“I didn’t say that. I think our having this conversation is ridiculous because it’s going no where.”
“If you don’t sell me this floor model, I’m going to go.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. If you change your mind please come back.”
“Ugh…this is completely ridiculous.”
“Yes.”

Work hard

"Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work
worth doing."
Theodore Roosevelt

I want that, Simon wants that, who doesn't want that?

Ninjas and Pirates-feuding roommates

Why don't ninjas get along with pirates?

An age old question, with an age old answer.

It's an interesting story actually....Ninjas and Pirates used to be the best of friends and were for many, many years paired as roommates. Each Pirate had a Ninja roommate and each Ninja a Pirate roommate. It was a natural relationship that worked quite well for many years. They would take picnics on the ships and swim in the sea together. They would play pranks on each other where Pirates would loudly storm into a town only to discover the Ninja had already snuck in and killed everyone without a sound. They enjoyed diving competitions off the ship's diving board and the Ninja would flaunt their skills with various highdives and trapeze-like acrobatics off of the various masts of the ship. The Pirates would teach their Ninja roomies how to swear, swashbuckle and ravish women, and the Ninjas would teach the pirates how to keep their blacks from fading in the wash.

Household chores generally entailed washing of the scabbards and throwing stars, repairing things broken in the previous evening's revelrys (between the swordfights and the stealth attacks, enough damage was done that they rarely got their security deposits back), and of course general dusting and cleaning of all dirt and blood marred surfaces.

Ninjas of course are a little more fastidious, tidy, and OCD than Pirates, and even though they both worked the night shift it was generally the Ninja who were up first to clean. This may seem like an unfair arrangement, but the Pirates provided other services to the Ninja that helped even the score. You see, for many years the Pirates had been providing both women and drink for their Ninja friends. Ninjas of course being notoriously ugly under their masks and only having occasional success with the whole "mystique" of a secret masked-man sneaking into a woman's room after midnight; Ninja had very little success in locating available and willing women and even when they did, their habit of killing them immediately after made resources quite scarce. So Pirates brought and shared women for their Ninja brethren and since their Ninja friends refused to have any pockets for carrying an ID and moreover refused to have their pictures taken, the Pirates also purchased or otherwise obtained all the alcohol for their parties.

Then one day a Ninja, finally fed up, and ignoring some of the "fringe benefits" of their union, got tired of hauling about big chests of pirate booty. It was their seventeenth move that year and every time his Pirate roommate and he got a new apartment his roommate would suddenly have a pressing raid, or a hat fitting, or a sword fighting lesson and would never be around to help out. The Ninja gave up, and secretly moved into his own place. He soon began bragging to other Ninja about his spartan, minimalistic, "no-heavy load" lifestyle and soon all of them were eschewing material possessions and refusing to help carry chests, swords, barrels and whatnot with their Pirate friends and roommates.

So the jilted Pirates moved out of their apartments, gathered their belongings onto their ships and moved onto the sea altogether so that they wouldn't have to deal with what they thought of as the Ninja's attempts to get out of hard work and jealousy of their riches, women, and ability to purchase alcohol legally.

So, now that the Pirates were all living on their ships and the Ninjas weren't "getting any" they were all a little depressed. The Pirates began letting themselves go and had such bad hygiene that their teeth began to fall out, and their beards got ragged and they smelled so bad that occasionally the captain would have to force someone off the diving board just to get rid of the stench. Several times a depressed sailor, sad, and overladen with filth and personal belongings, would just give up on his life and sink to the bottom, hence the term "walking the plank" became less about the sport of acrobatic diving and more about a man's last stinky breath.

The ninjas were depressed too, and began to meet in the dark of night and have parties on the "down low" and since they were in their ninja gear, no one could accuse another of having seen them at these parties. They prided themselves on their clean, simple lifestyle and put up signs refusing admittance to "stinky pirates and the unclean" from any of the side businesses they secretly ran (mostly hair salons, dance clubs and sushi restaurants).

The pirates found out about the ninjas night time pursuits and told all the women in all the ports they visited about the sissy men who couldn't get women who might sneak in in the dark of night. The women lost all their fear and curiosity of the no-longer-mysterious ninjas and would simply laugh at them whenever they snuck in.

This revelry has lasted generations, and most Ninja and Pirates no longer remember the great symbiotic relationship their two peoples once had, and only have been taught to mock and ridicule their counterpart, or occasionally to flip out and kill each other.

This enmity has endured to this day, and they still don't get along.

MORNING FROM HELL!


I got a speeding ticket last week. I realized Friday that that means I have no driver's license--which becomes a problem when travelling outside the US with no valid passport. SOOOooooo I have to go pay my ticket IN PERSON. So I go to do that this morning.

Now when I got the ticket I was a little pissed because I was only going over the speed limit by 9 miles an hour ....I was going 54 in a 45....and the cop was wrong about the speed limit and thought it was 35, as he wrote on the ticket. I figured if I went to court the judge would just say "well, your were still speeding, pay the fine" so I determined it didn't make a difference whether I was going 9 or 19 mi over as far as fines go, and I'd just pay it.

I haul my exhausted self out of bed at way too early an hour so that I can get there, get back and still make it to work on time. I wait 20 minutes for a bus that is supposed to come every ten minutes. I hike across downtown. I get to the building and the x-ray machine shows my digital camera in my purse. The guy tells me I can't bring it in, but if I walk around the building and go downstairs they will hold it for me. I do so. They won't hold it for me. They suggest that I must know someone in downtown who can hold it for me, or have a car or something. I don't. I walk outside and try to think. My roommate is 20 minutes away and my cell phone only has one bar on it, so I probably couldn't even call her. I decide to visit my old temp agency (almost 3 yrs ago I worked for them) since they are only a few blocks away. I show up and they say I look familiar. I ask them for an odd favor. They agree. I go back to the Court building

I wait in line. I get someone to help me. She disappears for 10 minutes and I read the screen. It said I was going 54 in a [B][I][U]30!!![/U][/I][/B] mph zone. ...Now this is a HUGE road and there is no way that ANY portion of it is 30, and this puts me in the 21-35 mph over the speed limit range that charges WAY more money for a ticket....and I was only going [B][I][U]NINE[/U][/I][/B] mph over!!!!

So I finally get this ladies attention and she says she can't do anything about it, and I will have to go to court to settle it. I tell her I can't wait for that, that I need my license because I'm headed to Canada on Friday.

Random Thoughts

Thoughts:


As a customer, or an employer--Allow someone to work WITH you, not FOR you

When you dye your hair purple, wear grape perfume

Think of making friends like doing the laundry, it’s a never-ending job and as soon as you think you’re done, it’s time to do it again.

Never assume people DON’T have pride in their work or their employer.

Ask yourself questions that don’t have answers.

Play tag.

Ninja & Pirate Limerick

The Ninjas were out shopping for necklace
While pirates marauded quite wreckless
With a bump two happened to meet,
Knocking both off their feet,
Wayward swords making both of them neck-less.

True friends had revenge for the slaughter
By stealing each mother and daughter
Now each pirate’s queens
Have some Ninja genes
And in the school plays now both do applaud her.

Part of a pirate story

Once upon a ship there was a pirate. He was a good pirate, mean and cruel and full of greed, as all good pirates should be. He was also a very small pirate...only one and a half barrells tall. But he had good strong arms, good strong legs and was quite useful as a spy, decoy, or in getting into small areas.

This pirate's given name was Marcus, but everyone called him “Small Bottom.” Small Bottom sailed upon the feared pirate vessel “The Blue Death” where he served as a gunner, a cook, and a deck hand…. as well as the guy they called whenever anything rolled into that little crevice behind the winch that none of them could fit their hands into.

Small Bottom had been sailing aboard The Blue Death for nearly 5 years and was quite experienced with looting, pillaging, hostile takeovers, dispatching the men and deflowering the women, with sword play and dagger throwing, and with all the knowledge of sailing that comes with surviving hurricanes, typhoons, the captains mood swings, and tropical storms day-in and day-out for years on end. He was however, quite inexperienced when it came to matters of diplomacy and interaction in a non-hostile situation (as he himself would admit). Even his relationship with his crewmates was one based on anger, fear, distrust and greed.

So it was not at all suprising that when Small Bottom was accidently marooned in a small fishing port during a tea, gold and crumpets raid that he had a difficult time managing until the next ship came along. It was made somewhat less difficult due to people’s inherent desire to treat small people as a child, and allow them to get away with certain things, but that did not do enough to keep him out of trouble with the local authorities.

Once the authorities got word of the mischief and criminal activities of Small Bottom, they