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The Akuapem North Municipal was established in 1988 by Legistrative Instrument (LI) 1430. Until then, it was part of the erstwhile Akuapem District Council which was established in 1975.The Municipality forms part of the twenty six (26) municipal and Districts in the Eastern Region of Ghana. Akropong is the Municipal's Administrative Capital. The Municipality shares boundaries with Akuiapim South District to the south, to the north with Yilo Krobo Municipal , to the east with Dangme West and to the west with New Juaben Municipal.
The Member of Parliament for Akuapem South constituency, Mr Osei Bonsu Amoah has criticized government for continuously appointing politicians to head key state institutions.
Arrangements for the Street naming exercise in the Akuapem North Municipality is far advanced with most of the processes completed awaiting the actual exercise to be commenced soon.
About 230 Persons Living with Disability have so far have been identified and registered to receive governmental support in the Akatsi North District.
The Okuapemman Association in the US and Canada have presented a special Peace and Unity Honorary Award to Ms Helen Adjoa Ntoso, the Eastern Regional Minister, at its 28th Anniversary Celebration of Odwira and Ohum Festival at Newark, New Jersey.
George Opare Addo, the newly confirmed Chief Executive for the Akuapim North District Assembly has taken office after he was sworn into office.


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Professional Services
Company Overview of IHS Economics & Country Risk, Inc.
Executive Profile
Dale Orr
Managing Director of Canadian Macroeconomic Services, IHS Economics & Country Risk, Inc.
|Total Calculated Compensation
|This person is connected to 0 Board Members in 0 different organizations across 1 different industries.
Dr. Dale Orr serves as Managing Director of Canadian Macroeconomic Services at IHS Economics & Country Risk, Inc. Dr. Orr has responsibility for Canadian forecasts and analyses, as well as other Canadian macro products. He served in economic leadership positions in private industry and the Canadian government. Dr. Orr has extensive experience as an economist in academia, government, business, and private consulting. He was an Assistant Professor of the University of ...
Corporate Headquarters
24 Hartwell AvenuePhone: 781-301-9100
Lexington, Massachusetts 02421-3158
United States
Fax: 781-301-9416
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Northwestern University
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subset: commoncrawl


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Big Lots opens new store in Converse
Columbus, Ohio-based Big Lots will celebrate the grand opening of its Converse store on Sept. 20.
As part of the festivities, the discount retailer will present a $1,500 check to Elolf Elementary School, which is part of the Judson Independent School District.
Big Lots will be located in the Lott's Landing Shopping Center, in the city of Converse, just northeast of San Antonio.
To date, Big Lots (NYSE: BIG) has 10 stores in the greater San Antonio area, according to the firm's website. That figure includes the store in Converse, and a store in Kerrville and in New Braunfels. Statewide, Big Lots has 117 stores.
Big Lots operates more than 1,400 retail stores across 48 states, with annual revenues approaching $5 billion.
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Welcome to the newly redesigned Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu website! We hope you like the new layout and content which we hope to add to over time. If you have any feedback or suggestions, please do send us a message via the contact us page. In other news, long time club members Andrew Lai and Jadd Chahal will be grading for their belt promotions this week. After spending many years of working hard (but enjoying every minute of it!) Andrew and Jadd will look to grade for their brown and purple belts respectively. The Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu academy has grown incredibly ...
It's been a hectic few months at Nexus Gracie Jiu JItsu, with training going strength to strength ever since Murat's return from the USA. To begin with, a special guest seminar with Henry Akins has been organised on Saturday the 27th of August 2011 at 3pm. Henry comes all the way from Los Angeles, where for many years he was the head instructor of the Rickson Gracie Academy, having learned his Jiu JItsu directly from Rickson Gracie himself. People all over the world have travelled to train with Henry, and now we're fortunate enough to have him visit us! Henry prefers to ...
Jun 15
At Nexus BJJ your child will grasp true self defense techniques and also develop self confidence in a fun learning and secure environment. Children's BJJ classes will enable your child to form self defense skills and allow their artistry to flourish. This will intensify their learning, skills, balance, speed and coordination. Black Belt instructor Murat Karadenizli leading the children's class, is highly experienced with children and has been accomplishing excellent results over the years. Give your child an advantage in life by enrolling today. See schedule for information on when kids classes are running.
What Kids program will teach your child:
Self Confidence
Better behavior
How to be bully proof
Social Skills
Physical conditioning
Bully proof your kids, so that they can over come any challenges that life may throw their way.
It is with great pleasure that we would like to announce the arrival and installation of our new Quality, State of the Art,designed mats at our 6/9 Dawson St, Coburg Head Quarters. Come and join us for a friendly roll.
Pedro Sauer awarded Murat Karadenizli with his First degree black belt, during his seminar at Nexus Headquarters Melbourne November 2014.
Oct 14
Great news! Pedro Sauer is back for 2014 and will be at Nexus headquarters and at Nexus Greensborough 5pm on the 1st of November and 1pm on the 4th of November respectively. Pedro's skills, technique and attitude are an absolute inspiration to every single Nexus member, so don't miss this golden opportunity and book your ticket before they're sold out.
Three time world champion and 7 time Brazilian champion Marcelino Freitas will be hosting a seminar at Nexus HQ on Saturday the 1st of March 2014 from 6pm onwards at a cost of $70 per person.
Book your spots if you all ready haven't guys! Huge opportunity to learn from a World Champion and a super nice charecter. Nexus is absolutely honoured to host Marcelino so don't miss out, register now and see you on the mats!
Yes that's right, Kron Gracie will be conducting a seminar at the Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu academy on the 25th of November 2013 from 6pm to 9pm. This will be an epic 3 hour session by a legendary champion and is definitely not to be missed. Spots to this seminar are limited, so be early and secure your spot early by calling 0410 387 575.
In other good news, Mitrevski Martial Arts has now officially joined the Nexus family. Academy ower Paul Mitrevski is a purple belt who recently moved the gym into a new huge facility located at 2/12, Malcolm Court, Kealba. This is great news for everyone involved – special congratulations to Paul and a huge welcome to all Mitrevski Martial Arts students to the Pedro Sauer team and Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu.
Jul 13
Professor Pedro Sauer is back in Australia for 2013. As one of the world's very few 8th Dan red-black belts, Pedro's knowledge of Gracie Jiu Jitsu is unmatched!
Contact us via the now to reserve your spot. As an added bonus, all seminars outside of Melbourne will be free for Nexus members.
October 12th – 1pm start
Sydney, Australia
Zenbu Grapple School
Newington Reserve
Unit 44, 2B Slough Ave, Silverwater NSW
October 13th – 12pm start
Brisbane, Australia
Lang Park Police Citizens Youth Club
Suncorp Stadium
Castlemaine Street, Milton QLD
October 19th – 12pm start
Melbourne, Australia
Technique Jiu Jitsu
3/48 Holloway Drive
Bayswater VIC
October 20th – 12pm start
Melbourne, Australia
Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu
6/9 Dawson Street
Coburg North VIC
Apr 13
That's right, Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu academy is now running classes 7 days a week and in most cases, twice a day.
In particular, there is now a 2.5 hour training session on Sundays running from 10am to 12:30pm in which all Nexus affiliated academies are invited to come to the headquarters and do some serious training.
This is an incredible opportunity for Nexus members around Melbourne to get together and roll with different people. So don't waste the opportunity, make sure you're there 10am every Sunday morning!
In other news, after his recent stunning win, young prodigy Jake 'The Celtic Kid' Matthews is now scheduled for a professional bout in AFC, the top Australian MMA promotion. As we prepare Jake for his upcoming bout, we encourage everyone to come and support Jake on this important fight.
Last night our very own Jake Matthews became the Australian IKBF MMA Australian champion. At just 18 years old, Jake is a Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu phenom. In his fight against experienced opponent Callum Potter from Renegade MMA, Jake convincingly won his fight at just 1:42 in the first round by armbar.
By all accounts, it was the highlight of the night and made for an exciting evening of action! Congratulations to Jake and Callum for the excellent fight, and we all look forward to the exciting future ahead for Jake. The sky's the limit!
Feb 13
2013 is the start of a big year for Nexus, and what better way to celebrate than to give our headquarters a new facelift! See the image at the bottom of this post to see the new frontage of the Nexus Gracie Jiu Jitsu academy.
In addition to the new look, we also welcome the promotions of Burak Sarman, Jake Matthews, Illhan Atoy and Sam Irsh to the prestigious rank of purple belt. Each member successfully completed their Jiu Jitsu and self defense techniques with fantastic skills. A huge congratulations to each student on a job well done.


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Featured Book
Remnants (Ghosts of Roseville Book 2)
by Betty Bolte
Charlie is off to discover what lies behind mysterious troubles in her quiet cul-de-sac.
Chapter 1
by Starman & Charlie
"Time is on your side, Charlie," I told myself, while glowering impatiently at the clock on the wall. "Tick, tick, tick," the horologist instrument would mercilessly taunt me with each second's passage. I couldn't wait to see my hubby get home each day, while I waited for the front door to be opened. Every time Max came home it practically flew off the hinges, as he flung it open with a great exuberance. I lived to see him standing in the doorway with his arms outstretched wide over his head, saying, "Charlie, I'm home!" I couldn't wait to meet with his embrace. He had me hypnotized by the fire in his eyes, its amber hue coloring my glow every time we kissed. This is where I belonged, what I was born for, to love and be loved deeply and truly by the greatest man in the world. To me he stood ten-foot tall and no one could compare to him. I was his and his alone and no one could shake us as long as we were together. We languished in our dreams of the future and planned with an excited flush for a lifetime of happiness together. May be even kids someday, but there was plenty of time for all of that; being young and in love we had our whole lives to do those things we imagined. Just being together every night and day was enough for us, the novelty of married-life still reverberating in our hearts and in our heads.
It is hard to explain how I was drawn to him, as if a voice imperceptibly whispering to me of true love, was taking me by the hand on a journey we had known before. Odd little perceptions like that one kept occurring that we both felt as weird sensations of déjà vu. It all sounds a bit nutty and spooky now, but it happened just that way, right here on this quiet cul-de-sac. Little did we know that a time bomb was about to go off in our lives, as we nestled closely each night. That was seven years ago, shortly before my husband Max left me. He disappeared from my life suddenly and without warning, like rising smoke vanishing into thin air. The one I married all those years ago, the one I still picture as a dreamy-eyed young man, an impatient man, a man unaltered by time...and he was gone from my life forever! "How could I go on? Where do I get the strength to survive dark days like these?" I told myself these heartbreaking questions.
"Every little thing we could do to help Charlie would make a difference right now," my friends told each other with well meaning whispers and smiles, as I vainly pretended not to hear them. Wistfully thinking of Max and the life we had together was all I ever did, and no matter what anybody said or did, at the end of each day I was perpetually imprisoned in my grief.
"He was killed in a lab accident," the authorities claimed, but I still have no clue as to how or why it happened. "Sorry Charlie," they said to my restrained face, which was nothing more than a mask for my anger and rage of loss and being kept in the dark about it, "but it's classified," they told me with coolness and rigidity in their voices. Max disappeared into a shroud of mystery that was not going to be to penetrated by me, leaving me entombed within icy walls of silence. My abject failure to either resurrect or bury my husband Max rendered me more dead than alive. To the world, I was an obsessed automaton repeatedly colliding with antiquated cold war policies of official secrecy that left my life a train-wreck. Despite my innocent and innocuous demeanor, naiveté represented only my game-face, when I purposed to seek the truth in a matter. Anger and frustration grew within me as my quest for answers about Max; to gain closure, heal my wounds, and to reclaim my life were murdered repeatedly.
Feeling there was some underlying evil determined to keep me in the dark forever, this only caused me to dig my heels in deeper till I knew Max was really dead and not languishing in some third-world prison, left there by the CIA to rot. This would be his thanks I reasoned considering how America abandons its heroes in favor of a new generation of wunderkind. Many injustices conspired for him to suffer this fate, after he provided them with brilliant solutions to many an enigmatic problem. I surmised from the circular answers I had received from the authorities, which closed ranks on me, leaving me a widow's perpetual pain of not knowing their husband's fate. The CIA headquarters, known as "The Puzzle Palace" in Langley, Virginia was obviously well named, and had no intent of offering any clues to what had been going on prior to Max's demise or what he had really been working on.
In the meantime, my wild-goose chase for resolution and peace of mind was going nowhere. My dilemma was exacerbated by my belief that vows of holy matrimony are sacred, being equivalent to a lifetime commitment. To me anything less would be pointless. Unless I could nail-down my true marital status as a widow or not, the situation could not be resolved satisfactorily. In view of this traditional community's heritage, I might as well deny myself and pray for an early death, rather than hope to fall in love again and remarry. Max's official cause of death was looked at suspiciously by my neighbors on the cul-de-sac, as no body had been ever been found. These choices seemed preferable to me, as opposed to either living like a recluse or being perceived a harlot by those hypocrites in the round. I stood at the opening to the cul-de-sac sometimes at midnight, like a conductor trying to direct an orchestra of fools, as I faced the houses in a semi-circle ahead of me, and then breaking down in tears realizing that for me here, re-marriage was an unthinkable act. I cared too much what the folks in each of dwellings, some brightly lit up and some peculiarly dark at night in comparison, thought about me. Somehow I blamed myself for Max's suffering and demise, and though I tried to hide my imagined badge of shame, I was thinking, "They can see it written on me like a 'Scarlet Letter'." To exemplify my inextricable dilemma, I still wake up shivering, expecting to find him lying next to me. Calling tenderly, "Max," I reach out for his warmth, but paw only an empty, lonely pillow. Like my broken-heart, it silently greets me with a message..."Cold, so very cold."
Is this what I have become, a cold unfeeling woman, blocking out the assailing stares and whispers aimed at me every day from a gossiping Cul-de-sac? Most neighbors publicly greet me with pity, but others are openly contemptuous of this lone widow woman struggling to get on with her life. "Whee!" I gleefully greeted each new day, every moment an adventure waiting to be revealed, but now instead, each one is like awakening from a blow to the head. Staggering through my world sadly disoriented and alone, my eviction from reality finally seems complete. Though the sun may rise and set I scarcely notice or care anymore, appearing a foreigner to even my own mirror. Husband-less, the days roll toward me in endless succession of drear, there arrival demolishing me like a runaway locomotive, with each night's uneasy slumber interrupted.
Fortunately, life was not always like that for me, where the sheep and goats around me didn't care if I wore a mask or not to cover my small disappointments. Visiting the lost faces now in the cemetery of my mind, is a pleasant trip to a safe ground where order prevailed and chaos seemed less pervasive. In those days as a child on Aunt Myrtle's farm, I gave each creature there a colorful and animated name, according to how I imagined them if they were people. Strange as it sounds now, I believed that this personalization caused them to welcome me, Charlie, into their big fairly-tale world, just as they were a part of mine. Even the old owl residing on the nearby stump reminded me of a scholarly old professor, staring at me with those wise old eyes. In my mind I became his student and somehow we connected. I felt a powerful resonance whenever he was around. Uncannily, Owl seemed pleased when I would learn the lesson he seemed to be teaching me. "Excellent!" Owl would communicate to me. When finished with our imaginary conversations, Owl would fly away and disappear into a quick moment, like he does now in the misty miasma of my mind. Back then though; my every child's breath was intoxicating. I was a spirit soaring.
Love was in the air back then, like a child's prayer it swirled happily all around us. Sometimes wee little girls dream of, "Who is going to sweep me off my feet, marry me, and make me a princess?" Mostly my dreams were concerned with that whole faraway fairytale, with an aviary of bluebirds, butterflies, and hummingbirds fluttering joyfully around me. Then too soon, the little girl in me grew up and met her Prince Charming, leaving Aunt Myrtle and her farm far behind. Those were charmed days. In a blinding flash of love, Max and me were married, surrounded by church, family and friends. "Till death do us part," we both agreed. Happily we rode off into a golden sunset together, side-by-side in a white chariot, pulled by the most beautiful white horses ever seen. Symbolizing our newlywed purity and bliss, even old Jake and Julia, The plow-horses that worked the farm seemed impressed, if not secretly mouthing a jealous bit. Our lives made more sense then, before the world went haywire around us...
Everywhere was a rhyme and a reason,
Everything had a time and a season,
For our young hearts, yet knew no treason.
La dolce vita, the sweet life, par excellence!
Still, despite my unyielding efforts for the last seven years to come full circle with the truth, I was seriously beginning to think it futile to continue to fight the silent stares and whispers of the cul-de-sac, not to mention Big Brother's all seeing eye. Considered for a while moving someplace else, possibly back east to visit my folks again, and see Aunt Myrtle's farm one more time, since the family was going to be forced to sell it after her recent death to pay off the debts the estate accumulated when she was too old to manage her affairs anymore. Too late we found out that she was broke after the couple that she let move in with her to care for the farm robbed her blind. After getting power of attorney signed over to them, they placed her in a horrid, smelly nursing home, and instead of caring for her like she did for so many others; Where then were Myrtle's rescuers? Nowhere in sight, they abandoned her to the dogs that ran the place. America, when did your compassion disappear? Like so many things, it turned out to be an illusion.
Sadly, Aunt Myrtle's friends and family back east who had been circling around her like vultures waiting for the carrion to drop so they could pick her bones clean, found out she was bankrupt and was about to lose the farm. They abandoned her too, and like rats deserting a sinking ship, seemed to have forgotten this poor sweet woman in her hour of need. "How can people be so cold and heartless?" I thought to myself. I was unable to help her being caught up in my own malaise and unaware of even the passage of time for months on end. Like a dead twig, I was separated from the tree of life, and blinded by my grief of my loss of Max. There I was living off of the widow's pension the government paid me, after Max's accidental death was officially determined. Unease was in the air I breathed. My cousin Janet, who I spent my summers on the farm with was the exception to all of the selfishness and unbelievable acts that occur around the dead after they pass on to be with God. She visited Aunt Myrtle at the home until she passed a short time ago. Another blow to body for me, as there was now one more face joining all the others in my mind's cemetery I told you about earlier. When cousin Janet heard about how poorly I was doing she got touch with me. After Aunt Myrtle got buried, we agreed she would come out to visit me for awhile until deciding what to do, now that Aunt Myrtle didn't need her help anymore. "I am on my way Char-girl, hang in there," Janet told me on the telephone with a laugh as she hung the phone before I could think of a good comeback to dissuade her. Besides, I could use a friendly face for a change, and Janet was not the kind of girl to take no for an answer!
Speaking with my cousin put me in a reflective mood and I considered, "How swiftly life changes in chaotic, autonomous and unpredictable ways." Max, a world-class scientist and a philosopher like Aristotle himself, would have approved. Strange, how my emotions keep pulling me back to him. Feeling the weight of the world was in my hands, I longed for my former anchor in this life to secure me in my place. Like a ship powerless and set adrift on the open sea, I often wondered, "How do I change course after so long, and go on without him? Without him!" I cried. The pain of loss rips deep, writhing within me, like a swallowed can full of noxious worms that burrowed holes into my soul. Thinking, as I often do about better days on Aunt Myrtle's farm, when she would fix those delicious country biscuits steaming with gravy and lovingly made by her own age-creased hands, their smell crept in to comfort me allaying my fears. Deep in peaceful thought at last, my tortured moments were momentarily tethered and eased. "What had I possibly done to cause Max to leave my life?" I wondered, finding miserable comfort in friends to sooth my imagination of how he must have suffered without me. Mercifully, I nodded off into another time and space, snippets replaying in my mind of a bucolic scene.
"Howdy, Charlie!" a voice prodded into my cosmic consciousness that ripped apart the veil of my inner peace. Reality's blindfold was removed from my mind's eye revealing things I didn't want to see anymore. Awakened from my daydream into my nightmare again, I found my neighbor Abigail shaking me, shaking me back into a topsy-turvy world, my party where all my candles where blown out and all of my balloons were maliciously popped at once. Facing my blues, I never felt more alone, except here was Abby to save the day!
"Oh hi, Abby. Sorry, I did doze off in this old rocking chair again, didn't I? This old porch is still my solace, reminding me of when Max and I first moved in here. Our furniture didn't arrive for a day or two, so we spent a lot of time outside, just sitting, talking, and relaxing while waiting for the moving van to finally arrive from back east with our things. It was nice. We had time to kill, since we arrived a few days early to set up house on the Cul-de-sac, before Max started work at the new government lab. These blessed old rockers were all we had to sit on, left over I suppose, from the old couple that died here mysteriously in their sleep."
Abigail eyed me with a wary eye, and laughed an uneasy laugh saying only, "Charlie are you sure you are alright? Maybe we should go inside, I think this night air is getting to you."
"Oh nooo! Somebody help me please! Dear God, somebody plee-aase...Help me!" Wailed a sobbing man from across the cul-de-sac.
"What on earth, Abby?" I said, feeling a cold chill come over me, so I instinctively pulled tight my robe to cover my thin nightgown, and hearing the commotion ran toward the curb. The five other front doors on the cul-de-sac opened too, as their occupants ran to our neighbor Randy's station wagon in his drive. Randy was standing beside it, his eyes wild with fear, calling uncharacteristically for help and sobbing uncontrollably. I immediately thought the strain of losing his brother, my husband Max, had gotten to him. But this was something more.
When he saw me coming, he called out to me, "Oh, Charlie! Look!" He pointed to his new, white station wagon, and he looked so frightened. Instinctively, I ran to him. He was my husband's younger brother, and he'd been my anchor since Max had disappeared seven years earlier. But now he threw his arms around my neck and leaned on me.
"What is it, Randy?" I asked. "What's going o…?" The sound of my voice melted in the crisp air, and I stared at his driveway, not believing what I was seeing. The station wagon's back door was hanging open; its white, shiny newness in stark contrast to the remains of what looked like an old fashioned casket. Randy was sobbing, but I drew him with me toward the car and his neighbors. As we drew closer, we all gagged at the stench. It was a moldy coffin with its lid half-caved in. I knew then why he was sobbing. All those years of "knowing" Max was alive and well, and now... He thought this was Max. But given the coffin's age, it couldn't possibly be, could it?
Then the investigator in me took over my mind, as I remembered through the steps that my boss, Bob had taught me. The police and their shoddy methods of detective work and crime solving did not impress the PI in me. The locals in this town were more likely to be arrested for disturbing the peace or cited for public drunkenness on a Saturday night at one of the tourist dives downtown, than to be involved in a serious investigation with mysterious coffins showing up in the back of station wagon in the middle of the night. So if this did have anything to do with the strange occurrences on the cul-de-sac since I have lived here, then i wanted to know how. These were generally good people here, but they had an extra-ordinary propensity for unexplained deaths or disappearances here, just like the case involving my Max. It was just a hunch, but if there was something connected to any of the other cases that remain unresolved here, then I definitely wanted to sniff out the evidence and get to the bottom of all of this cloak and dagger stuff once and for all. Who knows, maybe I might get lucky, and catch a real thief or killer in the process. Then I would make the papers for sure. Somehow though, my instincts warned me to be a little more careful on this one, as I had the distinct impression that I was being watched.
I observed carefully the scene, and who had come out to merely gawk, and who had a worried look on their faces and who didn't. It was the typically scene of a neighborhood that had seen too much of its share of shock and awe, with several of its members suffering loss in Iraq and Afghanistan. Tragically, the folks around the cul-de-sac started acting funny with one of the women inexplicably running down the street in the middle of the night. They said it was menopause kicking in, but if so then what about the men who seemed to be losing it too, No there is something about this place that beings out more then its share of dread and nightmares among normally behaved people. I myself have had a recurring nightmare about this very scene before. No here it is, but no this is just a coincidence. Max always taught me not to believe in premonitions, that there was always an answer if one looked hard enough for it. Some say it has to do with the cul-de-sac being built over the old Indian burial ground alleged to be here. Who in their right mind would believe in the dead haunting the living in the 21st century? I thought all of that thinking went out in the last century, when most of the charlatans who undisguised around here, and left heading for greener pastures elsewhere. Still, there were a few old timers who swear that the curse of the Indian burial ground was true .
Anyhow, back to the investigation that I had begun in my mind...So next I took in the condition of the coffin, and its position of the car. What in the world was it doing there? I want to ask Bob, but he is so shook up, I am worried about him. Who else seems too interested in this that might be playing a prank, you know college kids looking for kicks. Probably some sickos did this disgusting act. Probably read about it in the paper tomorrow, about some fraternity initiation or something. One time in college, some of those guys took apart the Deans car and reassembled on the roof of the student union!
Getting back to the task at hand, I looked around while my neighbors all milled together. There was Irene, my next-door neighbor, wearing pink flannel pajamas. She'd come out without slippers even, and was looking at Randy with shocked, worried eyes. Then there was the entire Roland family (they lived across the road from Irene). They too looked bewildered and only half-dressed. There was also Sam Ellister, shaving cream on his face — obviously getting ready for work, and his wife, with curlers in her hair. Some people have no shame at all.
Selma Codway was there too, a new widow, who looked uncomfortable in her expensive kimono, who kept tisking, "Oh dear. Oh dear. " I felt sorry for her knowing how this feels. I should bring her a cake or something and visit her, or invite her over for coffee, the poor dear.
Standing a little away from the rest of us, there was Abigail who followed after seeing me dash off the porch to run to Randy's side. She lived at the end of the cul-de-sac, so maybe she knew something. I meant to ask her before the night was over about this, as the question nagged at me, ever since she woke me up right before all this commotion broke out and I leaped into action to help my brother-in-law. "Randy," I said emphatically, while holding both of his shoulders, and looking into his frightened eyes, "Did you hear anything last night?" He took in a long, gasping breath, but still whimpered. I knew he was trying to calm down, but his eyes were slightly dilated, and I feared he was going into shock. I took off my robe and wrapped it around his shoulders and turned him toward the safety of his house.
Irene hovered near us, staring up at Randy with her big, brown eyes. "Call the cops." I told her, as I helped Randy into the house. As we moved up his walk, I reviewed all I'd taken in.
Three things I noticed that I thought were important:
First of all, it did not appear that the coffin had come from underground. There were cobwebs and dry-crumbly corners-- neither dampness nor mud. But since all the burial grounds I could think of were grass cemeteries, where coffins went six feet under, I was at a loss figuring out from where it had come.
Secondly, all of my neighbors but one were still in pajamas, and were either obviously frightened or superb actors.
Thirdly, there was my normally recluse neighbor Abigail again, whom I noticed was the only one fully dressed when she visited me, and now she had gloves on too! Interestingly, she hung back a little from the crowd—enough so that she couldn't have seen what was in the station wagon, and she looked more frightened than any of them. I made a mental note to talk to her again later. I had no idea how important that would be. "He who hesitates is lost," I mumbled to myself, and turned to speak to her anyway, "Oh Abby!" but like a ghost she was gone. So I shook it off, and turned my attention to my brother-in-law again.
"Com'on Randy" I said as I helped him back to his house and onto his living room couch, then grabbed the throw that was draped over its arm, and tucked it around him. He didn't look too good. So I hurriedly shut the door and ran to a bedroom, grabbing a pillow and a blue blanket right off of the bed. I rushed them back to my stricken brother-in-law, being the white sheep of the family. There was something else about Randy that drew me out of myself this night. He looked so much like my Max; I drew in my breath as I touched his cheek. His face was too pale. As I propped up his head and tucked the second blanket in around him, I hummed softly, trying to sooth him. He was shaking badly now. I looked around and saw his telephone lying on the coffee table to my right. Not knowing if Irene had come through, I dialed 911. I dozed off in Randy's spare bedroom, not wanting to be alone that night either.
I woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and Randy standing over me with a steaming cup that he handed to me. "Thank you," I said and drank the beverage, rich and dark, which felt good going down. After regaining my wits we parted ways and I went back home to recoup after that horrid night. "Why must things like those moldy old coffins turning up always happen around here? I know we are not the 'Desperate Housewives' of Wisteria Lane, with their own crazy little cul-de-sac, but that was purely TV fiction, and this was real life. So why us, why now, just when things have started to look up again?" I went home took a shower and spent the rest of the morning relaxing to Mozart. "Lovely melodies, still sounding good after all of these centuries. Like me, some things are just timeless," I mused.
By afternoon after all the police had left, and the moldy old coffin rode away in the coroner's wagon, we were still left not knowing a thing. In other words it was business as usual for the cul-de-sac, like there was some ancient curse over this place causing always questions, but never answers to satisfy them. I chalked it all up the mysterious things that happened around the cul-de-sac from time-to-time, then shrugged it off as just another example of the same. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry and was about to get some help doing it. Not wanting the nosy neighbors on the cul-de-sac to know my business, I pretended to have an errand and backed my purple sports car out of the drive. Some of them watched me carefully, peeping out past the partially opened drapes of their front windows.
"Vroom!" went the engine as I drove around the corner and down the street to meet my cousin Janet, who had just arrived in town. I found her parked in front of the town hall in a no parking zone, which so typical of her, and waved to her to follow me in her car. Finally arriving at my house on the cul-de-sac, we jumped out of our cars and excitedly hugged, then we left my car and we both climbed into the passenger side of her nondescript-colored Honda. We took off again with Janet at the wheel and me hangin' on for dear life. We were on another adventure, just like when we were kids on the farm. Only then we rode bikes and horses or walked when we wanted to get somewhere fast.
We had wonderful imaginations that never failed us which is what made life so fun. Janet, being a free spirit who made up her own rules and never took too good to authority figures, heard the latest chapter in my story about Max's disappearance. Then with a gleam in her eye, she decided it was a good idea for us to get involved with PI work again. "Oh no," I cried as off we went again on two wheels with gravel flying out behind us, all the windows down, and our hair blowing around like two kites in the breeze. What a sight we were, two gals on the loose again! The cul-de-sac would never be the same again, that much I was sure of, and those nosy neighbors would never know what hit 'em. This was all no surprise, since even as kids she liked to pretend we were Charlie's Angels. The mischief we got into, but somehow just like the Angels in the movies and TV, we had a few close calls that we laughed about later, but everything always came out all right in the end. And that's how I got my nickname — it's what she called me, and it stuck with me all these years. Sliding around corners, we'd hold out our invisible guns, ready to do battle. We invented all sorts of characters to play. Her favorite was Stella, a frumpy college student, and mine was a leggy blond named Daisy. O' what fun we had!
Now suddenly, here was Janet to save my day. Of course she had placed my disguise was right where I knew it would be, laying in the back seat of her old Honda. I pulled the blond wig from the jockey box and carefully put it on over my short, brown hair, combing the long, platinum strands behind my ears, and primping up the top to give it a little more height. I was getting good at it. I carefully applied two coats of pink-red lipstick to my mouth and smudged some off onto a tissue. Last, I put on the daisy sunglasses and looked into the mirror. Perfect. We switched places and I jumped into the driver's seat, since I knew the streets better than Janet who had only visited a few times over the years since Max and me moved here. We waited two hours before we saw Abigail drive past Janet's car parked in my driveway in her cream-colored sedan, then I casually pulled onto the street and followed her.
Tailing her at a safe distance, Abigail pulled into a parking lot, and never seemed to notice us—but the funny thing is that I'd never noticed her much either or more immediately, what that building was where she parked. It seemed always to be empty. I waited until she went inside before I parked the car two buildings down. Through my telephoto lens of my old spy camera Janet had retrieved from Aunt Myrtle's attic, before heading west to visit me. I could see that it was a church of some sort, so I took off my sunglasses and put on my clear-lensed pair, still keeping with the daisy motif. I pulled my yellow-hand bag's strap onto my shoulder and casually walked up to the church. The door was locked. I knocked on the door. I could see Abigail coming toward me, looking more frightened than ever. She opened the door. "What do you want?" She said, looking at me with a bit of a warning in her brown-green eyes. I made my voice sultry, "I wondered if there was a pastor here. I'm just coming through town, and my car broke down…"
She shrugged her shoulders and walked down a hall. I stood there a little while, watching her go. She never looked behind her or invited me to come. What would she expect me to do? I shrugged my shoulders and followed her…
The hall grew darker, as did my unease. The hall branched off, and I didn't know which way to go. Again, I made my voice sultry, "Excuse me, ma'am, which way?" I heard foot falls to my left, so I took that direction. About ten paces in front of me, I could see a shadow. That must be her. Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. I reached in my pocket and grabbed the tiny gray paper dot that would tell my tale. I let it drop. Janet would find it there and know what it meant. Hands pressed against my shoulders, and I fell…
Janet had dozed off waiting for me to come out of the building, after driving 4-days and nights to meet me. She looked up at the clock and realized five hours had passed. "Surely she'd be back by now, "Janet thought worriedly. She checked her phone for messages—nothing. "Charlie would be posing as "Daisy"—that was her favorite character." she reasoned. That left Janet with, hmm, oh yes… Stella! An unstellar college student she sometimes posed as in our imaginary sleuthing. She put on the short, brown wig, and untucked her blouse from her slacks. She put her arms through the backpack and went into the garage. She'd take Charlie's car—no, wait. She'd been trailing someone from Charlie's own block, so that wouldn't do either. Janet pulled out the bicycle she hadn't used for years. Its tires were flat. She looked around, and was relieved to see a hand-pump nearby. "What luck!" she thought to herself. Soon she was pedaling toward town, hoping to spot her car somewhere along the way.
Her thighs burned with exhilaration. It was nice to be going somewhere for a change on a bike. She'd been cycling in place for the last ten months, and it was refreshing to feel the wind lift the fake curls from around her face. About halfway down 1st Street, she spotted her car. She looked around—it must be that church-place, she thought. She tossed her bike into the bushes on her side of the street and crossed over. The parking lot was empty. She tried the door; it was locked. She looked up at the Grey, slat-like windows, but no inner light could be detected. Still, she thought, she could be seen…
It was dusk and the light was quickly fading in the desert sky as the first stars began to twinkle. There was an old-fashioned drugstore nearby, the kind that had a soda fountain. She sat down on a swiveling stool at the counter and ordered a frosty mug of root beer. "Thanks, she said to the clerk as she slurped it down quickly. Janet, her thirst quenched, got up and clanked two dollars and quarter in change on the counter.
This was a town that time seemed to have forgotten, and along with the natural beauty of the stark mesa in the distance, one could easily forget it was the twenty-first century. Then, she walked around the store for a while first examining this item and then that one. She lingered there trying on some new shades of lipstick and checking her look in the cosmetics mirror, and finally just wandering down the aisles for a while. On a whim, she purchased a few items that she put in her purse, and when she walked outside was surprised it was so dark already.
Janet slid around the church building's brick walls to the back. Sure enough, there was a back door there, with a knob. Still, it was harder than usual to pick open. She heard a click, and the knob turned. She carefully pushed it open. Darkness engulfed her. She stood, hardly breathing, listening with her whole being; nothing. Stealthily, she pulled her black light from her pack and flicked it on. If something had gone wrong, then Charlie would have left the Grey dot. She would find it. As quickly as she thought prudent, she glided down the dark corridor, swinging the light back and forth, looking for that tiny glow of invisible plasma; nothing. She turned down another hall searching, gliding, and almost tripped over an unbonded seam in the carpet. As she leaned forward to catch her balance, she saw it—the dot. Then she noticed that it wasn't a seam she'd tripped over, but some sort of a trap door. But how could she open it? She walked around it, pushing against the wall, tapping every conceivable place on the floor with her toe; nothing. She stepped backward, and then it clicked open and swung down. She looked over the brim, and saw Charlie there on the bottom, squinting up at her.
"You all right?" She asked.
"I'm all right—just a bump on the head. Did anyone follow you?"
"No. I'm sure, but let's get you out of here. Hurry." Janet reached down, and I reached up. She pulled, and I hopped. I was thankful for the many hours she'd been putting in at the gym lately. I straightened my blond wig, and smoothed my slacks. But where was my purse? "Janet, you didn't happen see the yellow handbag up there, did you?"
"No…" she answered.
"Great!" I said, "Just great. Now they're going to start tracking down 'Daisy'. Darn it! I liked her."
"It's Okay. We've got her well covered. What excuse did you give for coming here?"
"Broken down car" I moaned. "Out of state."
"We'll get your boss Bob on it. He'll come up with something," she said, and stepped back on the hidden floor panel, closing the trap door. "But for right now; let's get out of here."
"Wait." I said. "I want to know what this place is.
"Okay," Janet said, "but let's hurry. This place gives me the creeps!"
Some time later, we found ourselves on a catwalk, way above a large stadium-like room. We were rounding a corner, when we heard faint voices coming. I scurried into a recess, but Janet was left out in the open. "Quick," she whispered, "hand me Daisy." We traded wigs and shoes, and she handed the backpack over to me, but in the shuffling, one of her shoes fell. We waited, rigid, and then light flooded the room….
Meanwhile, back at the cul-de-sac, Irene watched the police cars leave. They knew something. They didn't even inspect the coffin—just hauled it off from the scene. There was something strange about that Abigail woman too. Irene saw how she'd hung back from the scene, terror in her eyes. It hadn't taken long for her to drive away, either. Where was she going?
Irene sighed and went into Randy's house. He looked much better—resting easy. She picked up the throw that was beside the couch and sat down beside him. "Well, that was some ordeal," she said, looking over at him.
"You're telling me," he said. "Is it gone now?"
Irene didn't have to ask what he meant. She knew. "Yes. They took it with them—said they'll take over the investigation from here."
"Well, then" he said, getting up, "I'll let them. I've got plenty to do around here without worrying about that. Did they say they'd let us know when they found out something?"
"No. We'll just have to wait and see. Personally, I think they know something already. They were so cold about the whole thing."
"Really? How so?"
"Well," she said, smoothing the throw on her lap, "for one thing, they never introduced themselves. They didn't tape the scene—just took the…the thing, and left. And, they didn't question anyone. That seemed odd to me."
"No kidding? They didn't ask whose car it was or anything?"
"No. They seemed to already know. I guess Charlie must have called from here and told them."
"I guess so," said Randy. "I don't know. I was pretty out of it. Hey Irene, do you mind staying for a while? I mean, I'm Okay. But I really don't think I can take any more surprises for one night."
"No. I don't mind. What do you want to do? Watch a movie or something?"
"Oh, no way. I'm going to keep busy—cook up a storm—do some laundry."
"Oh that sounds fun," Irene laughed dryly. But she stayed. After all, it was the least she could do
She found an apron to put on and washed her hands. "So tell me," she queried, "how long have you lived here?"
Randy smiled over at her. "That's right. You've only lived here a few months, haven't you?"
"Six actually," she said.
"Well I've lived here for about ten years. That's how old this cul-de-sac is. The land used to belong to the Grayson's. I guess they used to own a lot of land around here, never did anything with it, though. But what they didn't get by way of agricultural means, they made up for in steep profits..." he stopped talking. Irene had dropped her knife on the floor.
"What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
Irene stood up straight, put her hands on the counter for support, and looked him straight in the eye. "Grayson's? She asked, "As in Alex Grayson?" He nodded yes. "Haven't you heard about the legends regarding his property? He was said to have never torn the soil because the land was cursed, or blessed, however you want to look at it. It is old Indian burial ground. I knew I shouldn't have moved here."
"I never heard anything about that." He said. "Abigail Warner, she lives two doors down from me, she's their grand-niece, and she never said anything about it. Come to think of it though, she never says much about anything. We could call her and ask her though. I'll bet she knows something."
"No," Irene said, "I saw her leave about an hour ago. She looked like she was in a hurry."
"Oh Irene, you don't think she…did you see which way she went?"
"How could I? She pulled out of the cul-de-sac—but there's only one direction to go."
"Get your coat, Irene. Let's go find her."
"No. Wait. I know she knows something. My guts just know it. She's gone. Let's go check out her house."
Randy, over-whelmed with a powerful need to find answers, grabbed her hand in his and pulled her out the door and toward Abigail's house. The cul-de-sac was quiet. It was getting on toward midnight. They walked confidently through Abigail's backyard and up to her back door. Curiously it was unlocked….
Irene involuntarily took hold of Randy's hand as he opened the door. A faint light was glowing from the kitchen. They moved quietly around the furniture toward it. The dishes were undone, but piled neatly on the counter by the sink. Nothing looked out of place, or out of order. There was a pile of letters on the computer desk, stacked perfectly, from largest to smallest, all white envelopes. Irene carefully flipped through their corners, using her middle finger to hold down the stack—all the normal mail—bills—all were bills.
Randy opened the pantry door. Shelves of dry goods were there, nothing strange. They moved together down the hall toward the bedrooms. The air grew a bit moist—almost…dank. Definitely dank. He stepped forward a bit, motioning Irene to wait, but she grabbed his hand instead, and clasped it to her waist. Again, together, they moved forward. Then Randy opened the first door on the right—a bathroom. They went to the next door—the guest room. They went to the next—what must have been Abigail's, but it was very strange. An eerie golden glow spilled out from underneath the closet doors. They sucked in their breath and began to open the doors, but just then, they heard the distinct sound of the front door slamming. They were trapped. Randy put his arm around Irene's waist, and together, they yanked the doors open and stepped through. Quickly they pulled the doors closed behind them. Irene, afraid to look, put her head under his arm and squeezed her eyes shut. Randy looked down at her, pleased with her trust. And feeling protective lifted his chin and gazed steadily ahead. And what was ahead of him gazed steadily into Randy's eyes. Randy stifled his snort of fear, and hugged Irene all the tighter—he wasn't sure if it was for his own assurance, or to assure her.
It was tall—taller than he was—maybe six foot eight in height. And his eyes were bright gold, and glowing. His body was bare, but for a loin cloth and his golden muscles were brawny, and tight with readiness. In his right hand, he held a tomahawk, with a bright green feather tied in place with a blood-red cloth. In his other hand, he held a golden ball (about the size of a baseball) that was ribbed with curious writings. There were cracks in the ball that let out a bright green glow. The being looked human, and yet was definitely not so. He looked steadily at Randy and Irene. Then he suddenly brought up his left hand and flung the golden ball. Randy flinched, but he needn't have. The ball stopped in mid-air...
Back on my porch in the cul-de-sac, as the first streaks of dawn began to emerge, a spooky Jack-O-Lantern seemed alive as its eyes flickered their amber light, and the ribbed orange pumpkin orb flashed a toothy grin to the world.
Big Ninny's Home, The confrontation
by Antoine Raphael
Dust Carried on the Wind Book 2 Continuum
by Fern Lutkins
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text:
I'm not exactly sure how to start. And considering I live in the suburbs of a small to medium sized town in Oklahoma, I have never had such a situation, as I will try to explain below, occur. So I hope I won't botch this up too bad, as I try to piece together something that, to me, ended as a weird night. As I thought about the issue today, in reality, it's really no big deal. But I also wonder if I was using poor judgement, and if the whole deal could of possibly went way bad.
Last night around 10pm, I decided to take a drive to the local QuikTrip and grab a drink before playing some Battlefield 3 with a buddy of mine. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that it was just myself and the QT tanker. I thought to myself "nice, no waiting, I can just get what I want and go." As I was getting out of my car, I see this girl quickly walking my way, waving at me, and she says "Hey...hey... I know this sounds weird, but I don't have a phone. Can I please use yours to call a friend of mine, I'm sorry." Being kinda startled, and in what I saw as an awkward situation, I thought to myself "ahh... shit...." But seeing as I was, for the most part, the only one around, I decided to by a nice guy and let her use my phone. She then says "I'm sorry, I know this is kinda weird, and I hate to ask, but can I sit in your car. I've been walking from that'a way for the past several hours and I am tired....Please, i'm cold." And I couldn't help but to think, "WOW, what have I got myself into." But I didn't want to be a shitty person to the poor girl, so I said "Yeah, sure." As she gets in, she again says sorry for the whole situation being so weird and that random people had offered her rides as she was walking. But didn't take them because it was dark, and wanted to get to a well lit place before asking someone, "who looked like a nice person," for help. As we sat there she began trying to call her friends, and continued saying sorry about the weird situation and "thank you so much" and "thank you for being nice." Of course, none of her friends answered the phone, so I found myself listening to her tell me her life story, and why she had been out walking by herself for several hours.
Supposedly, her family has constantly moved around the U.S. most of her life. Making school, and creating friendships, difficult, as well as, creating tension between her and her parents. Since moving to Oklahoma, she tells me she has dropped out of high-school and is attempting to get her GED, but earlier that night her parents had kicked her out of their house and told her not to come back. Then it hit me, and I hadn't even crossed my mind, "wait...a high-school kid who doesn't get along with their parents, go figure. Getting "kicked out" was sounding like a shady excuse." So I sat kinda skeptical for awhile, but as she began to tell me more of her life at home with her close and extended family, it started sounding like she was from a rather broken and possibly mildly abusive family life. Her parents are apparently raging alcoholics, who constantly look down on her and her sister and have often run them out; She tells me her extended family isn't much better. Supposedly, earlier in the night her parents had returned home extremely intoxicated and began accusing her of things, calling her a failure, and telling her that "she is the reason why their life is so shitty." From there she told me things began to escalate out of control and I guess that's when her parents told her to get out, and not come back. She then randomly says she has some type of nerve disorder that occasionally causes sharp pains throughout her body, and makes her extremely irritable. She ends with saying that she ended up fueling the argument, because her disorder happened to be affecting her at the time this all occurred.
An hour has passed, and these friends she had been calling finally answer the phone. As she talks to them, she is told that they are currently at some party and they will let her know a little later if they can come pick her up. She then calls some other random guy, but the guy was to busy or far away to come pick her up I guess.
So here we are again, waiting, and now it's past 11pm. So I tell her if we are going to be waiting, then I'm going inside QT to buy a drink, and also offer to buy her a drink as well. She says sure, and continues to say I'm a nice guy, and sorry for all the trouble. I wasn't really worried about her stealing anything from my car; A pen, a five hour energy, toll change...my backpack. Nothing of any real significant value. Once I returned, she continues on with stories about her family, and where she has lived, and explains that she wants to be an artist and tries to show me pictures of her artwork on her completely busted iTouch. Then things begin to start sounding weird and shady again, as she all of a sudden says "Yeah, I'm not gonna lie. I've been in trouble with the law quite a bit. In some places they know me by name." From there she tries to explain why it's not always her fault, and that she has just had some bad luck. We eventually land on the topic of drugs, and as we talk I tell her I have had my run in's here and there, because I have, but I do what I can to stay away from them and I keep out of trouble. She laughs and says that she has done her "fair share" of drugs, and tries to stay away from them, but when she parties "it's hard for her not to indulge." It is now nearing midnight and she continues to tell me about some sketchy and dangerous situations she has been in elsewhere, and of the various drugs she has done...etc...etc.
Finally, those friends call and say they will be there soon, but they have the munchies and it might be about fifteen minutes. They also wanted five bucks from her for gas, for coming to get her. Which, to me, they don't sound like much of a friend to her. By this time, things had began to sound conflicting, and I really didn't know if all she had said before was true. Perhaps she was telling the truth, maybe not. All I could really take away, is that she was a troubled individual with a lot of bad choices. I doubt I will ever find out. Her friends eventually showed up about fifteen minutes after midnight, and they looked blazed out of their minds. She said goodbye, and lastly said sorry for all the trouble and thanks a lot for helping her. They drove off, and that was the end to that.
As I drove home, I felt good about kinda being able to help someone. She was nice, I kinda felt bad for her, and contrary to what she said, didn't seem to be some drug addict. Also, she talked nearly nonstop for the entire two hours we sat in my car. So that made things much less awkward. Although, the more and more she told me, the less believable ,and more shady, some of it became. Maybe I was just a sucker ( a nice guy), who now just enabled her to go who knows where and do who knows what. But crime here is low, so unless she left town, I could assume things are fine. Right? Like I said, I'm a simple guy, from the suburbs of an Oklahoma town, who doesn't get out much. So something like this has never happened. I would usually never let some random ass person right into my car, but I let her right in. Why? Was it because she was female? Maybe, but I don't really know. Was it because she was alone? Possibly, but who knows. Randomly letting people into your car without thinking seems like a way for something to quickly go south, and end in a bad bad situation. Of course, I never felt in danger during this situation. Awkward, yes. But in danger, no. In the end, I was more concerned with being the enabler for someone to leave wherever or partake in who knows what. Or maybe I am thinking WAY to much about nothing at all. I have a problem with over examining things, so it's quite possible.
What are your thoughts/opinions? Have you been in a similar situation with a complete stranger? And what would you have done in my position?
** Sorry for the wall of text, but it's been on my mind all day. And I figured I would get a good variety of random comments and opinions here.


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BeylaRate Beyla: Do you like this name?
Meaning and name origin
Beyla \be(y)-la\ as a girl's name is of Spanish, Italian and Latin origin, and the meaning of Beyla is "dance; beautiful". Beyla is a variant of Baila (Spanish). Also a variant of Bella (Italian, Latin): also a short form of Isabel or Isabella (Hebrew) "God's promise".
Beyla has 1 variant form: Byla.
Beyla is not a popular first name for females and an equally uncommon surname or last name for all people (2000 U.S. Census).
Displayed below is a comparison of the popularity of the girl name Beyla and its variant forms. The only popular variation form ranked in the Top 1000/100 is Bella (#70). (2014 statistics).
Similar Names
Beyla is also pronounced similarly to Bayla, Bayly, Belia, Beula, Beulah, Bewlah and Billa. Other suggested similar baby names are Bel, Bell, Belle, Jeyla, Keyla and Leyla. These names tend to be more commonly used than Beyla.


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38 year old woman | Bronx, NY, USA | Seeking men 30-38 within 20 miles
This is my headline. :)
Ok - this is the deal...I'm not your typical girl. I say "BRO", "DUDE" and curse ALL the time and I don't even realize it. Some people don't think this is "lady like", but I don't care...you don't like it - don't talk to me. I love to go out, have fun, meet new people and dance. I dance constantly...while I'm driving, while I'm at work, while I'm shopping, while on the platform waiting for the train and I don't care...you don't like it - don't look at me. I drink Coors Light (and only Coors Light) and I drink it through a straw...apparently, also not very "lady like", too bad! I love to cook, clean, do laundry; I'm the perfect house wife that doesn't want to get married (or at least I'm undecided). I don't like sports of any kind...watching them or playing them. I'd rather watch a movie all snuggled up on the couch. I'm not the outdoors type, unless it involves drinking beer on a porch. I'm the laziest person in the world...hence the whole "rather watch a movie" thing...just being honest. Other than all that I am probably the nicest person in the world...if I like you, even if I don't, I'll be cordial. I'm funloving, very easily amused and love, love, love to laugh. :) I am very generous and caring. I will do absolutely anything for the people that I care about. I'm very forgiving. I don't hold grudges, life is toooo short. I don't judge people and I don't care what people think.....what you see is what you get-you don't like it-keep it movin'... Now if you got this far into my profile and you're STILL interested, then you'll need to know what I'm looking for in a man. I'm a girl with an edge, therefore I need a man with an edge. I need a guy that can wear timberlands and a yankee hat one day, but be able to wear a suit and tie the next. He needs to be strong; physically and mentally, but also needs to be sensitive and caring. He needs to be protective, but not controlling. Most importantly he needs to listen to me and actually care about what I'm saying....there are so many guys out there that don't listen or just don't care b/c they're so self centered and it drives me loco!!!! I know I'm asking for alot and so far I've had zero luck finding this perfect man I describe....hopefully I'll find him on here ;)
Middle of the Road
Act like a lady, think like a man....
Z{{Cta}} {{#if HasMoreInfo}} ?{{CtaSecondary}} {{/if}}
|What she is looking for
|5'5" (165cms)
|5'11" (180cms) to 6'5" (195cms)
|Body type:
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|No Way
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|$75,001 to $100,000, $100,001 to $150,000, $150,001+
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|White / Caucasian
|Latino / Hispanic, White / Caucasian
|Christian / Catholic
|Christian / Catholic, Christian / LDS, Christian / Other
|Bachelors degree
|Bachelors degree


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Oh no…Amy Winehouse has done it again! Amy reportedly punched a person while drinking at Camden's Dublin Castle pub.
"She was in front of me at the bar and suddenly turned and walloped me three times across the face. It really stung," Wayne Lindsay told the Daily Mirror. "I couldn't believe it. I hadn't said a word to her or touched her."
After she hit him, she stormed out of the bar. This is the third time in two weeks Amy has been accused of hitting a complete stranger. On July 7, she allegedly hit a fan trying to take a picture of her and she also hit another fan while on stage at the Glastonbury festival.
For being such a tiny girl, Amy is one tough cookie. She has no fear as to who she is hitting. One day someone is just gonna snap and bring her down. Be careful Amy! Meanwhile, her Blake incarcerated is going to be sentenced today so expect some interesting drama!


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February 1, 2009
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Clients make a choice every time they open their wallets and spend their hard-earned money in your salon. Make that choice easier with value-added services that cost you little or nothing for the client to enjoy.
January 26, 2009
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Once you've switched to a computerized system of scheduling clients, tracking sales and managing inventory, there's no going back to a manual system.
January 25, 2009
| Article
The pedicure started as an afterthought in the nail industry but has grown into a popular, high-profile service. Adding a professional foot massage can increase profits and solidify your client base.
January 1, 2009
| Article
History has proved that even during economic downturns, people will continue to pay for a little bit of "feel good." Here are some ideas to make sure your salon can maintain a thriving clientele even in tough times.
December 1, 2008
| Article
Neil Ducoff authors a new book, No-Compromise Leadership, which gives tips on how to become a decisive leader.
November 1, 2008
| Article
One way of enhancing your clients' overall experience is to increase their convenience by offering alternate forms of payment. Here are some things you need to know if you accept credit cards.
With Bonnie Waters at its helm, Changes Salon & Day Spa in Walnut Creek, Calif., transformed from an unassuming nail spa to an awarding-winning, full-service luxury spa. Waters just received the prestigious title Salon Entrepreneur of the Year for the Western United States at the 2008 Global Salon Business Awards. Here's her advice on taking your salon to the next level.
October 1, 2008
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To organize a networking event for nail techs takes an enormous amount of work and discipline, but the rewards are worth it. Learn the steps to make your event go off without a hitch.
Whether your aim is to compete professionally, or simply provide confident, skilled services, you must commit to practicing your craft.
Graphic design can make or break the image of a nail salon. Whether or not you have a consciously crafted image, your nail salon's brand is expressed through the look of your salon materials.
September 1, 2008
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Reiki, ear candling and teeth-whitening are just a few of the alternative services being offered in salons around the country.
July 1, 2008
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Salon success handbook advises it is important to develop a working relationship with trainers in the industry.
June 1, 2008
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Expert business advice given on a weekly basis and delivered right to your inbox.
Gathering with like-minded or neighboring businesses to mail your fliers together is just one of the ideas from "101 Media & Marketing Tips For Salon Owners, Stylists and Managers."
The lunch hour presents a unique time slot for you to draw in new customers who can try your salon "with no strings attached." It's also a time for regulars to pop in for a quick treat between their regularly scheduled appointments. Here are some great service ideas that'll tempt clients.
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Syrian Gunfire on the GolanSunday, November 25th, 2012
For the second time today, gunfire from Syria crossed the border into Israel on the Golan Heights.
An IDF vehicle was nearly hit. No injuries were reported.
For the second time today, gunfire from Syria crossed the border into Israel on the Golan Heights.
An IDF vehicle was nearly hit. No injuries were reported.
Unconfirmed reports from Arab media: Syria has attacked Israeli bases in Golan in retaliation to the aggression on Gaza. Unconfirmed. Investigating…
Update: As this report from the Arab media cannot be confirmed at this time, we are assuming it's false.
Syrian rebel soldiers calling themselves "Eagles of the Golan" have taken over Beerajam and Bariqa in Southern Syria, in an area which serves as a demilitarized zone between Israel and the country to the north.
The area around Kuneitra was likely taken because of an armistice forbidding Syria from engaging in military activity in the six-mile-wide area along Israel's border, providing refuge to rebels not obligated under that law.
Israel has not taken an official position on the months-long civil war. However, Eagles of the Golan, which is largely comprised of Al-Qaida operatives, has said that it will turn its sites on Israel after it defeats Syrian President Bashar Assad.
On Tuesday night, France became the first Western country to recognize the new opposition.
The Syrian Arab Red Crescent said that more than 2.5 million people have been displaced since the fighting began in 2011.
The UN has said it will provide aid to half a million people by the end of the year, including basic necessities such as blankets, warm clothing and cooking supplies.
Late Monday afternoon, Israel time, a mortar shell hit an open area in the vicinity of an IDF post in the central Golan Heights, as part of the internal conflict inside Syria, causing no damage or injuries.
In response, IDF soldiers fired tank shells towards the source of the fire, confirming direct hits.
The IDF has filed a complaint with the UN forces operating in the area, stating that fire emanating from Syria into Israel will not be tolerated and shall be responded to with severity.
Yesterday, a mortar shell hit an IDF post in the Golan Heights adjacent to the Israel-Syria border, also as part of the internal conflict inside Syria. In response, IDF soldiers fired warning shots towards Syrian areas, as well as an advanced Tamuz rocket, and the IDF filed a complaint through the UN forces operating in the area, stating that fire emanating from Syria into Israel will not be tolerated and shall be responded to with severity.
Last Sunday (November 4), Chief of the General Staff Lt. Gen. Benny Gantz toured the Golan Heights together with commanders of the Gaash Formation, which is responsible for protecting the region around the Syrian border. "This is a Syrian issue that could become our issue," the Chief of Staff then said of the ongoing fighting in Syria, instructing forces in the field to remain alert in protecting the Golan Heights and preventing violence from spilling across the border.
In a rare instance of breaking step with the Arab world, Russia's envoy to the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) caused the organization to defer condemning Israel in a series of votes on Wednesday.
Five resolutions proposed by the Palestinian Authority, Jordan, and Syria were scuttled by Russia, which presented a plan to delay the resolutions for 6 months in order to send a UN fact-finding team. The plan passed, with France the only European country to vote against.
The resolutions accuse Israel of trying to change the character of Jerusalem by conducting archaeological digs without the approval of former occupying country Jordan, allowing Jewish prayer on the Temple Mount, allowing Jews to live in Judea and Samaria, neglecting education in Gaza, and alleged mistreatment of the Druze residents of the Golan.
UNESCO considers the entire Old City of Jerusalem and its surrounding walls as a world heritage site.
IBA News reports that the IDF, in coordination with the UN, has prepared territories on the Golan along the Syrian border to absorb potential Syrian refugees.
While the goal of the IDF is to prevent any Syrians from crossing the border, they recognize that some refugees might still spill over as internecine fighting expands near the border.
It's the eve of Yom Kippur and though the mood here in Jerusalem is calm (thankfully) and the weather glorious (of course), the reverberations of the war that broke out on that day in 1973 are in the air (inevitably).
In the past hour, mortar fire erupted on Israel's northern border, causing explosions in what appear, for now, to be open fields. No injuries, but some property damage that's not yet detailed in the news here. It's reported that the fire is a kind of spillover from the barbarism unfolding over the past year inside Syria: the source is believed to be forces of the Syrian army "engaged" – as the journalists like to put it – with rebel forces near Syria's border with Israel. AFP says the mortars crashed into Israel "by accident". They were intended to hit civilian villages inside Syria.
That ongoing engagement has caused thousands of deaths since it broke out in March 2011. Wikipedia says various sources, including the UN, place the rising death toll at between 26,000 [source] and 39,120 [source] people killed, about half of them civilians. Where is the outrage?
This is not the time to go into the vast difference in response by the international community to the massacre of Arabs by Arabs compared with the constant condemnation of Israel in international forums. But if we're discussing it, where are the effective steps taken until now by the UN Security Council relating to the Syrian barbarism and calculated to prevent even more people from being killed? Ban Ki-Moon knows and has expressed himself [here for instance]. The torrent of blood continues.
This morning, representatives of Israel's government filed a complaint with the United Nations Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) operating in the area [report] since 1974. But that's almost certainly done as a formality rather than out of any expectation that something will result. There are 1,036 UNDOF troops (from Austria, Canada, Croatia, India, Japan and Philippines) in the area as of today, plus 41 non military international staff and 102 local civilian staff members. Multiplied by 38 years, and that amounts to a massive financial outlay. The embattled Syrian villagers who are bombarded daily by the tanks and air force of their own armed forces must be wondering if there wasn't a better place for that money to be spent all these years.
Note: people outside the area hear the name "Golan Heights" and the bitter demands of the Syrians who want the area back under their control… and think that the Golan is an elevated vantage point that looms over Syria and gives Israel some sort of strategic advantage. The opposite is true. They're called "Heights" because the ridge looms over northern Israel. But on the Syrian side, they're not heights at all.
Between 1948, when Israel won back its independence, and 1967 when the Six Day War was fought, the Syrian military was arrayed all along 8 to 12 mile long Golan Heights ridge overlooking Israel and used it as a base for attacks on Israeli farmers and fisherman. Israeli towns below the Golan were routinely bombed from above, and sniper fire was a constant. During those 19 years, some 140 Israelis were killed and many more were injured. Today, many Israelis know the Golan Heights best because of the outstanding world-class wines that are now produced there.
Originally published on September 25, at This Ongoing War.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/blogs/this-ongoing-war/incoming-fire-on-the-northern-border/2012/09/27/
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(This story first ran at PressConnects.com) BALTIMORE — At 26 years old, UFC light-heavyweight champion Jon Jones admits it is difficult even for him to realize he could soon be considered the best fighter in the history of mixed martial arts. But it's a reality (…)
The former Bellator Lightweight king aims to climb the ladder of the UFC's 155-pound division, after suffering a loss in his Octagon debut. Alvarez meets longtime rival Gilbert Melendez at UFC 188, w read news >>
Can "El Nino" outsmart the former Bellator champion inside the Octagon? The long-awaited showdown between two former lightweight champions is set to go down as Gilbert Melendez (Strikeforce) takes on read news >>
The former Bellator Lightweight champion finally met long-time rival Gilbert Melendez in a cage at UFC 188. What transpired was a little less than ideal for MMA fans, but still showcased the always d read news >>
Nate Diaz wasn't too happy with Eddie Alvarez after he claimed the former Bellator Lightweight champion called him out prior to his showdown against Gilbert Melendez last weekend (Sat., June 15, 2015 read news >>
Former Bellator lightweight champion Eddie Alvarez revealed that he would accept a fight against Nate Diaz even though he believes it would be a step back for him. read news >>
Out of Bellator for over a year with an ACL injury, Vinicius Queiroz is finally cleared to get back in action. The Brazilian heavyweight, who stopped Lavar Johnson in 23 seconds at Bellator 102 in 20 read news >>
Michael Chandler sees big changes on the horizon when the UFC hands over random testing to USADA next month, as do a lot of people in the MMA industry.Filed under: Bellator, News read news >>
Patricio Freire's accomplishments in his Bellator MMA career are in a league of their own. Yet, "Pitbull's" next bout is in a co-main-event position below two fighters who have never fought for the o read news >>
Quinton Jackson has already made a successful return to the Octagon, thanks to a UFC 186 pay-per-view (PPV) win over Fabio Maldonado, but that doesn't mean the tug-of-war between the Ultimate Fightin read news >>
Bellator is in the process of paring down its roster again. As Bloody Elbow reported, the Viacom-owned promotion released eight fighters on Wednesday, including longtime veteran Rameau Sokoudjou. The read news >>


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Recently, Weezer released yet another album that wasn't nearly as good as Pinkerton and nerds everywhere were once again divided. Some thought it was a return to form at least somewhat, whereas others thought the former group were stupid-ass dumb ugly faggots who need to take Rivers Cuomo's nerdcock out of their mouths and/or asses. Guess which group I'm in.
Anyway, for those not familiar with the band's modus operandi, every Weezer album has to have a wacky, possibly-ironic-pop-culture-reference video for it's lead single. "Buddy Holly" paid homage to Happy Days, "Hash Pipe" had sumo wrestlers, "Keep Fishin'" ruined the Muppet Show for me forever, and "Beverly Hills" featured the Playboy Mansion.
True to form, the boys in Weezer apparently decided that the latest single, "Pork and Beans", would be the ultimate Weezer video and as such, decided to cram as much irony as humanly possible into a ~3:30 pop song.
You may want to turn off your Irony Meters while watching this video, as most store-bought meters top out at "Hot Topic T-shirt"-level irony. Only industrial-strength meters are rated for Weezer videos. Consult your manual if you aren't sure.
Anyway, on to the video!
As you're all aware, I'm a glutton for punishment. So, I present to you every single video referenced in this video. Please note that I am doing this all on my own and only had to "cheat" once, when I couldn't remember the name of that bitch who does the sex ed videos on Youtube. I hate myself for knowing every other one of these videos just as much as you all do, trust me.
We start with "One Man Band". Some kid films himself playing a bunch of instruments. WOWIE!!!!!!!!!! COOL!!! A+++++ WOULD WATCH AGAIN
Next up, the venerable "Numa Numa". Worth mentioning is that Weezer actually managed to get most of the original "actors" to reprise their "roles".
"Dramatic look Gopher" is as shocked as I am that this Weezer song is horrible.
Ebaumsworld dot com presents "Afro Ninja" an Ebaumsworld dot com joint featured at Ebaumsworld dot com.
Next, we find out what happens when nerds have too much time (and too many bottles of Coke and packs of Mentos) on their hands.
Personally, I'd have picked "Pork chop sandwiches" or "Reggae" if I was going to use a G.I. Joe PSA, but this one is pretty funny, too.
This video features one of our very own forum goons breaking the record for most t-shirts worn. Great success!
As always, Chris Crocker is a terrible piece of shit, but at least he's good at being a terrible piece of shit and knows it. Too bad the same can't be said for the rest of Youtube.
All your retarded catchphrase from 2003 are belong to Weezer.
Oh, Miss Teen USA. You have a map... a map to my heart...
Savor the irony that this video was filmed at roughly the same time Weezer last put out a decent album.
We're not done yet. In fact, we're just getting started. More stupid fucking Weezer shit on the next page!
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Just in time for Shark Week, a barrelful of fishy cinematic horrors!
Goon-made alternate Confederate and 'Don't Tread on Me' flags: Put THAT on your pole and salute it!
This game is so busted th- *interrupted by smart aleck Joker and Batmobile sequence*
As you may have noticed, the most popular viral videos at any given time are amazingly banal, annoying, and cliched pieces of waste. It almost seems as if the internet naturally gravitates towards the worst possible Youtube and Google video selections. So it stands to reason that if the terrible videos become popular, then the unpopular videos must be awesome! We here at Something Awful present to you AwfulVision™, our own patented service dedicated to showcasing a wide selection of unpopular videos that apparently must be good! Welcome to Web 3.9. Welcome to AwfulVision™!
Copyright ©2015 Rich "Lowtax" Kyanka & Something Awful LLC.


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City, union point fingers at each other
Red tape stalls store expansion
Red tape leaves UK midwife in limbo
Drouin raises the bar again
Derek Drouin just broke a record that was older than him.
Worst day is 'best thing'
After the first real disaster of his decathlon career, Damian Warner was intent on quitting.
Brothers show Maryland love
You can take the Brothers Osborne out of Maryland and to Nashville, but you can't keep the band fronted by siblings John and TJ Osborne from going hom
Travelling minstrels' tale a world premiere
The world premiere of a new Canadian play is on stage at Blyth Festival Centre for the Arts.
Outspoken advocate leaves local CMHA post
Don Seymour saw his own brother fall through the cracks between mental health and addictions help.
Cosby admitted drugging woman
Bill Cosby admitted in a 2005 deposition that he obtained Quaaludes with the intent of giving them to young women he wanted to have sex with.
Letters: July 7
Wasted food demands imagination
2-1/2 years for sex on the beach
A man convicted of having sex on a public beach in Florida in front of a child was sentenced on Monday to two-and-a-half years in prison, a state prosecutor said.
Rainmen files for bankruptcy, months after forfeit
The company that owns a professional basketball team in Halifax that forfeited a championship game this spring has filed for bankruptcy.
Kadri must do well or he's toast: Cherry
Don Cherry has weighed in on the Maple Leafs' re-signing of Nazem Kadri.
Man facing sex charges
A 54-year-old Perth East man is facing charges of sexual assault and sexual interference in relation to an incident alleged to have occurred in June.
Kick back and get your summer read on
Grab your lawn chair and kick back with some cool lemonade this season — the London Public Library has released its list of hot summer reads.
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text:
"I've learned a lot by talking to [Bernanke]," Mr. Kocherlakota said in an interview after the September meeting. Mr. Bernanke's "thinking is framed by data and models," he said. "It beats coming in there with just your gut."
Bernanke vs. the Borg: A Short History of the Fed's Amazing Transformation
Kocherlakota's evolution shows Chairman Bernanke hasn't forgotten Professor Bernanke