Come to the Garden Party!.....

The Garden Party's new Gossip Queen is TARA!!
Please contact Tara with any info or pictures
for the Garden Party.

I have agreed to undertake the challenging task of following in Pame's footsteps here in the Garden of Gossip and Snippets. For those of you that do not know me, I am an evening chatter in #news_garden. (I am not to be confused with another chatter whose name closely resembles mine, LadyTara). I will try to visit the daytime chatters when I can take the occasional work break as the tax season dies down. It will be a pleasure to meet the "Other Side of the Garden"

Tara

A Bit `O` Blarney


After St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland, he decided to rid the country of the Norwegians. He poisoned their potatoes. But, alas, they just made lefse (potato bread) from it.

"Okay, I'll poison their favorite fish, cod." Again, the Norwegians just made lutefisk (cod soaked in lye) of it.

"This isn't working at all," said St. Patrick. "They can all just go to hell."

And that, my friends, is how all the Norwegians ended up in Minnesota.


Submitted by Smorg


How many irish does it take to screw in a lightbulb

Two, but it has to be a really big lightbulb

So they can 'screw' in it


Submitted by Sara


'Why don't you give up the drinking, smoking and carousing?' said the do-gooder.

'It's too late,' replied Murphy.

'It's never too late,' assured the virtuous one.

'Well, there's no rush then,' smiled Murphy.


Submitted by Alllie


A Sergeant and a Private were patrolling the streets in a Irish town near the Northern Irish border.

There was a 9:00PM curfew in place.

Suddenly private Slattery shoots a man walking down a lane.

The sergeant screams, Slattery its only 8:45, why did you shoot him?

Slattery replies, well I know where he lives and he would never have made it by 9:00.


Submitted by Alllie


"Why do you Irish always answer a question with a question?" asked President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

"Do we now?" came New York Mayor Al Smith's reply.


Submitted by Alllie


One fine sunny morning, the priest took a walk in the local forest. He had been walking by the small stream when he noticed a sad, sad looking frog sitting on a toadstool.

"What's wrong with you?" said the priest.

"Well," said the frog, "the reason I am so sad on this fine day is because I wasn't always a frog."

"Really!" said the priest. "Can you explain!"

"Once upon a time I was an 11 year old Choir boy at the local church. I too was walking through this forest when I was confronted by the wicked witch of the forest. 'Let me pass!' I yelled, but to no avail. She called me a cheeky little boy and with a flash of her wand, turned me into this frog you see before you."

"That's an incredible story" said the priest. "Is there no way of reversing this spell that the witch has cast upon you?."

"Yes" said the frog, "It is said, that if a nice kind person would pick me up, take me home, give me food & Warmth and with a good nights sleep would wake up a boy once again."

"Today's your lucky day!" said the priest, and picked up the frog and took him home. The priest gave the frog lots of food, placed him by the fire and at bedtime put the frog on the pillow beside him. When the priest awoke, he saw the 11-year-old Choirboy beside him in bed

"And that my lord is the case for the Defense....... "


Submitted by Alllie


Kathleen Murphy was standing vigil over her husband's death bed.

As she held his hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his face, and roused him from his slumber.

He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly.

"My darling Kathleen, " he whispered. "Hush, my love," she said. "Go back to sleep. Shhh, don't talk."

But he was insistent.

"Kathleen," he said in his tired voice. "I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you."

"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Kathleen. "It's all right. Everything's all right, go to sleep now."

"No, no. I must die in peace, Kathleen. I slept with your sister, your best friend, and your mother."

Kathleen mustered a pained smile and stroked his hand. "Hush now Patrick, don't torment yourself. I know all about it," she said. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"

Submitted by Alllie

 

by Tara

 

Home
Announcements
Books
Chatters Page

Columns
Contact Us
Food 4 Thought

(Chatter Recipes)
Forum
Friday Night Quiz
The Garden Party

Java Chat

911: Looking Back
Media Links

Newsgarden Compost
Off Center
The Poet's Garden
Server List

Techie Tips
WackyWorld
What's new
Words of the Wise

Search the Site

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previous Garden Parties

St. Patrick's Day PT1
Feb 20, 2003 GP
Showdown & Arrest Part2
The Protest Part1

Valentine GP
Feb 4, 2003 GP
Jan 16, 2003 GP
Christmas 2002 GP
Thanksgiving 2002 GP
Halloween 2002 GP
Memories 2002 GP
Pets GP, 2002
GP, Sept/Oct 2002

 

 


Pictures by SuzzieQ

Design by Alllie

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

return to top