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rejection of a rejection letter.....
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Mar 3, 2012 1:02 pm
134 Views
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Frustration generally gets the better of us. This entertaining letter by a frustrated aspiring individual after a string of rejections will amuse you to no end.
Herbert A. Millington
Chair Search
Committee
412A Clarkson Hall, Whitson University
College Hill, MA 34109
Dear Professor Millington,
Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful consideration, I
regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me
an assistant professor position in your department.
This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually
large number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field
of candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.
Despite Whitson's outstanding qualifications and previous experience in
rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my needs at
this time. Therefore, I will assume the position of assistant professor
in your department this August. I look forward to seeing you then.
Best of luck in rejecting future applicants.
Sincerely,
Chris L. Jensen
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women are sooooo easy to please......
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Mar 1, 2012 8:25 am
127 Views
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A store that sells husbands has just opened in the city where a woman may go to choose a husband from among many men. The store is comprised of 6 floors, and the men increase in positive attributes as the shopper ascends the flights.
There is,however, a catch. As you open the door to any floor you may choose a man from that floor, but if you go up a floor, you cannot go back down except to exit the building.
So a woman goes to the shopping center to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 - These men have jobs.
The woman reads the sign and says to herself, "Well, that's better than my last boyfriend,but I wonder what's further up?" So up she goes.
The second floor sign reads :
Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids.
The woman remarks to herself, "That's great, but I wonder what's further up?" And up she goes again. The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids and are extremely good looking.
"Hmmm, better" she says. "But I wonder what's upstairs?" The fourth floor sign reads:
Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking and help with the housework.
"Wow!" exclaims the woman, "very tempting. But, there must be more, further up!" And again she heads up another flight. The fifth floor sign reads:
Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak.
"Oh, mercy me! But just think... what must be awaiting me further on?" So up to the sixth floor she goes. The sixth floor sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 3,456,789,012 to this floor.
There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at Husband Mart and have a nice day...
*********
all gals here...who hav visited the top floor....plz raise your hands....
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a box full of kisses........
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Feb 21, 2012 8:35 pm
187 Views
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The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.
Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found the box was empty.
He yelled at her, "Don't you know that when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something inside it?"
The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said,"Oh, Daddy, it is not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you, Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl....
*************
this is dedicated to someone very special here...shes one of d most beautiful persons here...shes my dii here..
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a good heart.....
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Feb 20, 2012 8:49 pm
178 Views
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Once upon a time, there was a man who had been the soul of kindness all his life. When he died, everyone assumed that he would go straight to Heaven, for the only possible place for a good man like him was Paradise. The man wasnt particularly bothered about going to Heaven, but that was where he went.
Now in those days, service in heaven was not all that it might be. The reception desk was extremely inefficient, and the girl who received him gave only a cursory glance through the index cards before her and when she couldnt find the mans name, she sent him straight to Hell.
And in Hell no one asks to check your badge or your invitation, for anyone who turns up is invited in. The man entered and stayed
Some days later, Lucifer stormed up to the gates of Heaven to demand an explanation from St Peter.
"What youre doing is pure terrorism!" he said.
St Peter asked why Lucifer was so angry, and an enraged Lucifer replied:
"You sent that man down into Hell, and hes completely undermining me! Right from the start, there he was listening to people, looking them in the eye, talking to them. And now everyones sharing their feelings and hugging and kissing. Thats not the sort of thing I want in Hell! Please, let him into Heaven!
*********
live ur life with so much love in ur heart that,if by mistake u were sent to hell,the devil himself would deliver u up to paradise!!!
*********
dese lines hav been borrowed from paulo coelho......
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moms n dads...plz dont miss reading this......
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Feb 14, 2012 9:45 pm
224 Views
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We all know what it's like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red, illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight. Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?" My heart pounded, I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.
"Mama?" The voice answered. I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter.
When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clear on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.
"Mama, I know it's late. But don't... don't say anything until I finish. And before you ask, yes I've been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back and... I drew in a sharp, shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn't right.
"...And I got so scared. All I could think of was how if would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I'd been killed. I want... to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days ago but I was afraid... afraid..."
Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughter's face in my mind, and my fogged senses seemed to clear, "I think ---
"No! Please let me finish! Please!" She pleaded, not so much in anger, but in desperation. I paused and tried to think what to say. Before I could go on, she continued. "I'm pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now, but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!"
The voice broke again, and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked up at my husband, who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?"
I shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with a portable phone held to his ear. She must have heard the click in the line because she asked, "Are you still there? Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone."
I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. "I'm here, I wouldn't hang up, " I said.
"I should have told you, Mama. I know I should have told you. But, when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don't listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren't important. Because you're my mother you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don't need answers. I just want someone to listen."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my nightstand. "I'm listening," I whispered.
"You know, back there on the road after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I couldhear you preaching to me about how people shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home."
"That's good honey," I said, relief filling my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine.
"But you know, I think I can drive now."
"No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened and I tightened the clasp on my husband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me until the taxi gets there."
"I just want to come home, Mama."
"I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please."
I listened to the silence fearing. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving. "There's the taxi, now." Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.
"I'm coming home, Mama." There was a click, and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed, tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my 16 year old daughter's room. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to learn to listen," I said to him. He studied me for a second, and then asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialled the wrong number?"
I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him."Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number."
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness. "We're practicing," I answered.
"Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, but her eyes already closed in slumber.
"Listening," I whispered and brushed a hand over her cheek.
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from a thoughtless mind......
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Feb 11, 2012 11:05 am
247 Views
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Lovely relationship depends not only on the spoken words, it also depends on understanding the unspoken words.....
Don't promise me the moon or the stars... Just promise you'll stay under them with me forever.......
Be the fire that keeps the candle lit,
in the hearts of those we love.....
Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy....
Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away; and all the things I want to say can find no voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my eyes will speak my heart....
life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful....
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.....
life is not just waiting for someone who is made for you...but....life is living for someone who is happy just because of you....
saying sorry does not always mean you are wrong...it just means...that you value your relationships more than your ego.....
stop holding on to what hurts and make room for what feels good....
You can't have a relationship without fights,
but you can make your relationship worth the fight...
all of the above have been borrowed...but all of them ...seem to be spilling out from my heart.....
these are dedicated to a very special friend here....
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i can sleep when the wind blows........
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Feb 10, 2012 12:26 am
203 Views
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A young man applied for a job as a farm hand. When the farmer asked for his qualifications, he said, "I can sleep when the wind blows." This puzzled the farmer. But he liked the young man and hired him. A few days later, the farmer and his wife were awakened in the night by a violent storm. They quickly began to check things out to see if all was secure. They found the shutters of the farmhouse had been securely fastened. A good supply of logs had been sat next to the fireplace. The young man slept soundly. The farmer and his wife then inspected their property. They found that the farm tools had been placed in the storage shed, safe from the elements. The tractor had been moved into the garage. The barn was properly locked. Even the farm animals were calm. All was well! The farmer then understood the meaning of the young man's words, "I can sleep when the wind blows.
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salt could be sweet too.....
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Feb 6, 2012 8:07 am
213 Views
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He met her on a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he so normal, nobody paid attention to him. At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised, but due to being polite, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, she thought, please, let me go home.... suddenly he asked the waiter. "would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee." Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously; why you have this hobby? He replied: "when I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I like playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there". While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched. That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home. Then she also started to speak, spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story. They continued to date. She found that actually he was a man who meets all her demands; he had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good person but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee! Then the story was just like every beautiful love story , the princess married to the prince, then they were living the happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee e, as she knew that's the way he liked it. After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said: "My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie I said to you---the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead.I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything.. Now I'm dying, I afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste.. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, still want to know you and have you for my whole life,even though I have to drink the salty coffee again". Her tears made the letter totally wet.Someday, someone asked her: what's the taste of salty coffee? It's sweet. She replied.....
again its borrowed...from my mail....
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love.....
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Jan 28, 2012 8:06 am
236 Views
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My husband is an Engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. Three years of courtship and now, two years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of me loving him before, has now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings, I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband, is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love. One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce.
"Why?" he asked, shocked. "I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world!" I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seems to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times.
My feeling of disappointment only increased, here was a man who can't even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him? And finally he asked me.. What can I do to change your mind?Somebody said it right, it's hard to change a person's personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him.
Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered ...Here is the question, if you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind, Let's say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death, will you do it for me? He said .... I will give you your answer tomorrow.... My hopes just sank by listening to his response.
I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes....
My dear, "I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further.." This first line was already breaking my heart. I continued reading. "When you use the computer you always mess up the Software programs, and you cry in front of the screen, I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs.
You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way.
You always have the cramps whenever your "good friend" approaches every month, I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy. You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom.
You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails,and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand... and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the color of the glow on your young face...
Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do... I could not pick that flower yet, and die.. " My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting... and as I continue on reading...
"Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk...
I rush to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread.... Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone...
well...again..its been borrowed....
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a piano lesson....
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Jan 22, 2012 3:52 am
278 Views
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Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play someday." But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf... I've just got to play!" he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my "curtain closer."
Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. "Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?"
Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on pianissimo to fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso.
His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by a person his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard you play like that Robby! How'd you do it?" Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf...remember I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special." There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening.
i dont like the term...copy and paste...prefer the term borrowed...well this piece has been borrowed...for the benefit of us...iff members....
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