Memoirs of a Geisha

Bobby Lee from Mad TV as Sayuri. "eeeeet haard..."

Plan your route...

To most group rides, it is important to plan your route...I was asked to take charge on one of the occasions and I was circling around watten estate, doing my usual 'eating air' riding stance, when SB asked me ....




SB : Hey where are you going???are we lost?
S : How can we be lost if I dont know where I was going??
SB ( revvvvvved his green mean steaming machine and wrecked me fender..) and I got this...!!!


Judge a man by his eating habits....thats all I can say...
This is the same entry as FBM's.. Decided to post it here too...

Praying Hands

::Albrecht Dürer ::


The Praying Hands

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuernberg, lived a family
with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for
this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession,
worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he
could find in the neighborhood.
Despite their seemingly hopeless condition,
two of Albrecht Dürer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to
pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would
never be financially able to send either of them to Nuernberg to study at the
Academy. After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys
finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into
the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended
the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in
four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales
of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed
a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Dürer won the toss and went
off to Nuernberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next
four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an
immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far
better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he
was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the
young artist returned to his village, the Dürer family held a festive dinner on
their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and
memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his
honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved
brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his
ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now
it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuernberg to pursue your dream, and I will
take care of you."
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of
the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his
lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No
...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his
cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding
his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to
Nuernberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines
have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least
once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand
that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate
lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is
too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Dürer's
hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors,
charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the
world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only
one of Albrecht Dürer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very
well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay
homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Dürer painstakingly
drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched
skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world
almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his
tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of The
Praying Hands, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need
one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

~Source
Unknown~
Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is
appreciated, whether true or not.

Sorry for the cut and paste. The source is unknown and this story is found everywhere.

I never knew pain...

..till I met you...
and :: Andrew ::