Slogan:"I've gone with the long shot before, Danny. I ended up with you. You said there was a 10% chance of rain but I brought my umbrella because 10% is enough for me believe that it's possible." spoken by Lindsay Messer
Hey, my name is Jasmine. I am a HUGE fan of CSI: NY. I am also a HUGE fan of CSI: Miami and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. I am pretty much a HUGE fan of anything and everything CSI related. :)
Occupation: Full time CSI: NY and Danny Messer addict (Yes, its a real job)
Location: Florida
I joined this wiki because: I LOVE CSI:NY!!! I am obssessed. I have dreams about CSI: NY (mostly Danny, Lindsay, Lucy, and Flack)
The best word to describe me is: Major CSI addict :)
Interests: CSI, forensic science, Danny Messer, volleyball, CSI...
Favorite movies: High School Musical, High School Musical 2, High School Musical 3
Favorite TV shows: CSI: NY (duh!!), CSI: Miami, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Forensic Files
My hero(es): My mom, my dad, GOD, all the CSI people (mostly Danny)
My superpower is: Able to detect anything CSI
If I could live anywhere, it would be: New York City, New York
My dream job(s): Forensic Scientist or CSI
What else you should know about me: I LOVE CSI!!!! and DANNY!!! Oh, and I also LOVE Flack :)
A girl and a guy were speeding over 100mph on a motorcycle Girl: Slow down im scared Guy: No this is fun Girl: No its not please it’s too scary Guy: then tell me you love me Girl: I love you slow down Guy: Now give me a big hug She gave him a big hug Guy: Can you take off my helmet & put it on yourself its bothering me. In the newspaper the next day a motorcycle had crashed into a building because of break failure. Two people were on it only one survived. The truth was that halfway down the road the guy realized that the breaks were broke he didn’t want the girl to know. Instead he had her hug him and tell him he loved her one last time. Then he had her put his helmet on so that she would live even if it meant that he would die. If you would do the same for the person you love copy this in your profile.
Why do we sleep in church, But stay awake through a 3 hour movie? Why is it so hard to talk about God, but so easy to talk about gross things? Why are we so bored when we look at a Christian magazine, but find it easy to read Playboy? Why is it so easy to ignore a Godly myspace bulletin, Yet we repost the nasty ones? Why are churches getting smaller, But bars and clubs are expanding? Why is it so easy to purchase beer and drugs? But so hard to donate 25 cents for a Charity? Why is it so easy to worship a Celebrity? But very difficult to engage with God? Why do people laugh at you for being religious, but praise you for thinking dirty and vain? Think about it, are you going to repost this? Are you going to ignore it, cause you think you’ll get laughed at? Repost this as “don’t read if your immature ….seriously” 80 % of you won’t repost this. Jesus said: ‘If you deny me in front of your friends, I will deny you in front of my father.
A white man said, “Colored people are not allowed here.” The black man turned around and stood up. He then said: “Listen sir….when I was born I was BLACK When I grew up I was BLACK, When I’m sick I’m BLACK, When I go in the sun I’m BLACK, When I’m cold I’m BLACK, When I die I’ll be BLACK. But you sir. When you are born you’re PINK When you grow up you’re WHITE, When you’re sick, you’re GREEN, When you go in the sun you turn RED, When you’re cold you turn BLUE, And when you die you turn PURPLE. And you have the nerve to call me colored The black man then sat back down and the white man walked away… Put this on your page if you HATE discrimination!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This story makes me feel so sad! =*( Her dad was a drunk, her mom was an addict, her parents kept her locked in an attic her only friend was a little toy bear it was old and worn out and had patches of hair she always talked to it when no one’s around she lays there and hugs it not a peep of sound until her parents unlock the door, some more and more pain she’ll have to endure. A bruise on her leg, a scar on her face, why would she be in such a horrible place? But she grabs her bear and softly cries, she loves her parents, but they want her to die. She sits in the corner, quiet but thinking, " God, why? Why is my life always sinking? " Such a bad life for a sad little kid, she’d get beaten and beaten for anything she did… Then one night, her mom came home high, and the poor child was hit and slapped, and hours went by. Then her mom suddenly grabbed for a blade, it was sharp and pointy, one that she made. She threw the blade right in her chest, saying, " You deserve to die, you worthless pest! "The mom walked out, leaving the girl slowly dying, she grabbed her bear and started crying. Police showed up at the small little house, they quickly barged in, and everything was as quiet as a mouse. One officer slowly opened a door to find the sad little girl lying on the floor. It must have been bad to go through so much harm, but at least she died with her best friend in her arms….
HOW COULD YOU? When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask, “How could you?” — but then you’d relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” — still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of love.” As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch — because your touch was now so infrequent — and I would’ve defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered “yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being “your dog” to “just a dog,” and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your “family,” but there was a time when I was your only family I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with “papers.” You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed “No, Daddy Please don’t let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, “How could you?” They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind — that this was all a bad dream… or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, “How could you?” Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, “I’m so sorry.” She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself — a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
