Wednesday, September 14, 2011

women in tight fitting jeans::Two nubile young women, in tightfitting jeans and bellytops, boring a small hole in an ash tree with a wood drill women in tight fitting jeans

women in tight fitting jeans women in tight fitting jeans::Two nubile young women, in tightfitting jeans and bellytops, boring a small hole in an ash tree with a wood drill!
They then insert into the hole a slim, black metal cylinder, no bigger than a cigarette.
When it is pushed into place they cover the opening with a piece of special tape.
So well does this tape match the darkolive colour and texture of the bark that it is completely camouflaged.
This lessthanlegitimate kind of enterprise has been driven by the acute scarcity of ash for hurleymaking.
The ash tree, especially one with a curve near the bottom, is being singled out and surreptitiously felled, usually in the dead of night.
As a result of all these goingson, many householders and landowners are very anxious to protect their ash trees from these hoursofdarkness predators.
The two young women, referred to in a previous episode of the squinting eye , know all about ashtree stealing.
They themselves were once the most accomplished in this dubious business.
They did not do it for money, since one is a wellpaid computer programmer and the other runs a very successful unisex hair salon.
They stole ash trees because they felt that their camogie club, attached to one of the big gaa clubs in the area, was left at the end of the queue when it came to the allocation of hurleys.
Over a three month period they felled about sixteen ash trees, mostly in the west wicklow area, hauling them away in their pickup truck to a compliant hurleymaker who dwells within sight of slievenamon.
They only targeted those ash trees on big estates and farms.
On no account would they fell a tree belonging to a roadside cottage or on land belonging to a modest home or a small farmer.
It was the plight of these latter that aroused the sympathies of these two goodlooking and athletic women when their own career as ashtree stealers came to a successful close.
They knew that some ashtree owners were finding it difficult to prevent them disappearing.
Some resorted to coiling razorwire round the bottom.
However, this proved to be a danger to cattle and to the family dog and indeed any creature, animal or human, who took shelter under the tree.
This is when the resourceful duo came up with a unique solution.
First of all they used the internet to find out all they could about various alarm systems.
Then they got in contact with the national electronics research centre at university college cork and actually went down to visit key people in this worldrenowned body.
The two women then set up their own small laboratory in a back room of a pub in urlingford.
Before long they emerged with this unique alarm device.
Within the thin cylinder is a highpowered longlasting battery.
It remains dormant, retaining all its power.
Only the inner vibrations caused by the rasping, revolving blade of a chain saw or even a humble hand saw can bring it to life.
This battery then sets off an alarm.
Not alone that, but the system sends out a signal that sets off an alarm by the bedside of the treeowner, up to a radius of almost 2 kilometres.
Greatly encouraged by the fact that three of the prototype ashtree alarms proved reliable under experimental conditions, the ambitious young women went a step further.
They sold ten of these at cost price to worthy recipients.
Has their system worked?
One householder, roused from bed by the alarm at 3 am, rushed out with his shotgun to find an abandoned chainsaw lying on the ground beside his ash tree.
Apparently, the culprits had run hellforleather with fright, leaving this expensive piece of equipment behind.
The women have now applied for funding from science foundation ireland because they are working on an even more sophisticated version.
Mouths agape in terror, frightened eyes wide open in the dead of night, saw and wheelbarrow left behind, clothes badly torn as they scramble fearfully through hedges and ditches.

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