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Tired of seeing all those Abbreviations that
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"I'm worried that I'm losing my wife's love," the husband told the counselor.
"Has she started to neglect you?"
"Not at all," the dejected man replied. "She meets me at the door with a cold drink and a warm kiss. My shirts are always ironed, she's a great cook, the house is always neat, she keeps the kids out of my hair. She lets me choose the television shows we watch and she never objects to kinky sex or says she has a headache."
"So what's the problem?"
"Maybe I'm just being too sensitive," the husband ventured, "but at night, when she thinks I'm sleeping, she puts her lips close to my ear and whispers, 'Die! Die, you son of a bitch!' "
The owner of a large furniture store in the mid-west arrived in France on a buying trip. As he was checking into a hotel he struck up an acquaintance with a beautiful young lady. However, she only spoke French and he only spoke English, so each couldn't understand a word the other spoke.
He took out a pencil and a notebook and drew a picture of a taxi. She smiled, nodded her head and they went for a ride in the park. Later, he drew a picture of a table in a restaurant with a question mark and she nodded, so they went to dinner. After dinner he sketched two dancers and she was delighted. They went to several nightclubs, drank champagne, danced and had a glorious evening.
It had gotten quite late when she motioned for the pencil and drew a picture of a four-poster bed. He was dumbfounded, and has never be able to understand how she knew he was in the furniture business.
MAN BAKES CAKE WITH RECIPE FOUND ON INTERNET!
Hamilton, New Zealand, 8-Aug-1995
A Hamilton (New Zealand) Analyst Programmer, Simon Travaglia, was caught last week baking a cake from a recipe he found 'On the Internet..'. Police were called in when neighbors became suspicious about 'bakery smells' wafting into their homes from Travaglia's residence. Police noted that Travaglia had in his possession sophisticated cake-baking apparatus including an oven and several professionally crafted spatulas, which, if used properly, could have produced 10 or more cakes in a single day. Police also found a stockpile of cakes, including several banana cakes, two chocolate cakes, and a self-saucing pudding. At the time of his arrest, Mr. Travaglia was apparently in the process of making several scones which were appeared destined to be stored in 'scone-caches' around the city. The Police also found was a larder full of ingredients with an estimated street value of several dollars. Experts who examined one cake surmised that it had an estimated yield of "8 slices, possibly 10 if you cut it up thinner". A well-known member of parliament has renewed his calls for censorship of "Usenet News" groups which distribute such material. He says: "We are faced with a situation whereby school-age-children, without the knowledge of their parents, can download recipes by the dozen, and store them in encrypted form on the computer. Parents cannot be expected to Police this information, and it is time legislation was put into place to prevent the distribution of these recipes and punish those responsible for attempting it."
When it was pointed out that several similar recipes were available at many public libraries, the Minister indicated that libraries were in a position to control access to these books both by placing them in prominent places under the watchful eyes of library staff and also on the top shelves of book stacks. He similarly refuted claims that cakes such as the ones found could be made by any third year cookery student.
"These cakes" he said "were not made by trial and error. I have been assured by experts that the icing on the top of the chocolate cake in particular was applied by a practiced hand. If this information is out there, it will be found and used, and it's obvious that the Internet has NO conscience when it comes to the distribution of sweet foods. We must act, and we must act now!"
Meantime the Police have confirmed that despite all attempts to the contrary, three of the seized cakes had 'gone off'. On this occasion, no-one was seriously injured, although one officer was taken to sick bay with 'a sore tummy'.
Why the Internet Is Like a Penis
It can be up or down. It`s more fun when it`s up, but that makes it difficult to get any real work done.
In the long-distant past, its only purpose was to transmit information considered vital to the survival of the species. Some people still think that`s the only thing it should be used for, but most folks today use it for fun most of the time.
It has no conscience and no memory. Left to its own devices, it will just do the same damn dumb things it did before.
It provides a way to interact with other people. Some people take this interaction very seriously, others treat it as a lark. Sometimes it`s hard to tell what kind of person you`re dealing with until it`s too late.
If you don`t apply the appropriate protective measures, it can spread viruses.
It has no brain of its own. Instead, it uses yours. If you use it too much, you`ll find it becomes more and more difficult to think coherently.
We attach an importance to it that is far greater than its actual size and influence warrant.
If you`re not careful what you do with it, it can get you in big trouble.
It has its own agenda. Somehow, no matter how good your intentions, it will warp your behavior. Later you may ask yourself "why on earth did I do that?"
Some folks have it, some don`t. Those who have it would be devastated if it were ever cut off. They think that those who don`t have it are somehow inferior. They think it gives them power. They are wrong. Those who don`t have it may agree that it`s a nifty toy, but think it`s not worth the fuss that those who do have it make about it. Still, many of those who don`t have it would like to try it.
Once you`ve started playing with it, it`s hard to stop. Some people would just play with it all day if they didn`t have work to do.
on an island
There was this male engineer, on a cruise ship in the Caribbean for the first time. It was wonderful, the experience of his life. He was being waited on hand an foot. But, it did not last. A hurricane came up unexpectedly. The ship went down almost instantly.
The man found himself, he knew not how, swept up on the shore of an island. There was nothing else anywhere to be seen. No person, no supplies, nothing. The man looked around. There were some bananas and coconuts, but that was it. He was desperate, and forlorn, but decided to make the best of it. So for the next four months he ate bananas, drank coconut juice and mostly looked to the sea mightily for a ship to come to his rescue.
One day, as he was lying on the beech stroking his beard and looking for a ship, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Could it be true, was it a ship? No, from around the corner of the island came this rowboat. In it was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, or at least seen in 4 months. She was tall, tanned, and her blond hair flowing in the sea breeze gave her an almost ethereal quality. She spotted him also as he was waving and yelling and screaming to get her attention. She rowed her boat towards him.
In disbelief, he asked, "Where did you come from? How did you get here"?
She said, "I rowed from the other side of the island. I landed on this island when my cruise ship sank."
"Amazing," he said, "I didn't know anyone else had survived. How many of you are there? Where did you get the rowboat? You must have been really lucky to have a rowboat wash up with you!"
"It is only me," she said, "and the rowboat didn't wash up, nothing else did."
"Well then," said the man, "how did you get the rowboat?"
"I made the rowboat out of raw material that I found on the island," replied the woman. "The oars were whittled from gum tree branches, I wove the bottom from Palm branches, and the sides and stern came from a eucalyptus tree."
"But, but," asked the man, "what about tools and hardware, how did you do that?"
"Oh, no problem," replied the woman, "on the south side of the island there is a very unusual strata of alluvial rock exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into forgeable ductile iron. I used that for tools, and used the tools to make the hardware. But, enough of that," she said. "Where do you live?"
At last the man was forced to confess that he had been sleeping on the beach.
"Well, let's row over to my place," she said. So they both got into the rowboat and left for her side of island.
The woman easily rowed them around to a wharf that led to the approach to her place. She tied up the rowboat with a beautifully woven hemp rope. They walked up a stone walk and around a Palm tree; there stood an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white.
"It's not much," she said, "but I call it home. Sit down please, would you like to have a drink?"
"No," said the man, "one more coconut juice and I will puke."
"It won't be coconut juice," the woman replied. "I have a still; how about a Pina Colada?" Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepted, and they sat down on her couch to talk.
After a while, and they had exchanged their stories, the woman asked, "Tell me, have you always had a beard?"
"No," the man replied, "I was clean shaven all of my life, and even on the cruise ship."
"Well if you would like to shave, there is a man's razor upstairs in the cabinet in the bathroom." So, the man, no longer questioning anything, went upstairs to the bathroom. There in the cabinet was a razor made from a bone handle, two shells honed to a hollow ground edge were fastened on to its end inside of a swivel mechanism. The man shaved, showered and went back downstairs.
"You look great," said the woman. "I think I will go up and slip into something more comfortable." So she did.
And, the man continued to sip his Pina Colada. After a short time, the woman returned wearing fig leafs strategically positioned and smelling faintly of gardenia.
"Tell me," she asked, "we have both been out here for a very long time with no companionship. You know what I mean. Have you been lonely, is there anything that you really miss? Something that all men and woman need. Something that it would be really nice to have right now."
"Yes there is," the man replied, as he moved closer to the woman while fixing a winsome gaze upon her, "Tell me ... Do you happen to have an Internet connection?"
Ten things men understand about women:
Eye have a spelling checker.
It came with my PC.
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss steaks aye can knot see.
Eye ran this poem threw it.
Your sure real glad two no.
Its very polished in its weigh,
My checker tolled me sew.
A checker is a blessing.
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me right awl stiles two reed,
And aides me when aye rime.
Each frays comes posed up on my screen
Eye trussed too bee a joule.
The checker pours o`er every word
To cheque sum spelling rule.
Bee fore a veiling checkers
Hour spelling mite decline,
And if we’re laks oar have a laps,
We wood bee maid too wine.
Butt now bee cause my spelling
Is checked with such grate flare,
There are know faults with in my cite,
Of nun eye am a wear.
Now spelling does not phase me,
It does knot bring a tier.
My pay purrs awl due glad den
With wrapped words fare as hear.
To rite with care is quite a feet
Of witch won should be proud,
And wee mussed dew the best wee can,
Sew flaws are knot aloud.
Sow ewe can sea why aye dew prays
Such soft wear four pea seas,
And why eye brake in two averse
Buy righting want too please.
A man had to go to a strange town to be the guest speaker at a business meeting. When he arrived at the Motel in town, he found that he had a lot of time before the meeting. He asked the clerk where the nearest golf course was and was given directions on how to get there.
While playing on the front nine, he was going over the speech in his mind and became confused as to where he was on the course. Looking around, he saw a Lady playing ahead of him. He walked up to her and told her about his big meeting and the speech he was to make and his confusion about where he was on the course, asked her if she knew what hole he was playing. She replied " I'm on the 7th hole and you are a hole behind me, so you must be on the 6th hole". He thanked her and went back to his golf. On the back nine the same thing happened. And he approached her again with the same request. She said "I'm on the 14th, you are a hole behind me, So you must be on the 13th". Once again he thanked her and returned to his play. He finished his round and went into the club house where he saw the Lady sitting at the end of the bar. He asked the bartender if he knew the Lady. The bartender said that she was a sales lady and played the course often. He approached her and said "let me buy you a drink to show my appreciation for your help. I understand that you are a sales lady, well I am in sales also. What do you sell"? She replied, "if I told you, you would only laugh". "No I wouldn't", he said and persisted that she tell him what she sold. "Well if you must know", she answered, "I sell Tampax". With that, he fell on the floor and laughed so hard he almost lost his breath. She said "see I knew you would laugh". "That's not what I'm laughing at" he replied, "I'm a toilet paper salesman, so I'm still a hole behind you"!
In the Beginning Was the Plan...
In the beginning there was the Plan.
And then came the Assumptions.
And the Plan was without Substance.
And darkness was upon the face of the Workers.
And they spoke amongst themselves, saying,
"This is a crock of shit and it stinketh!"
And the Workers went unto their Supervisors and said, "It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odor thereof!"
And the Supervisors went unto their Managers, saying, "It is a container of excrement, and it is very strong, such that none may abide it!"
And the Managers went unto their Directors, saying, "It is a vessel of fertilizer, and none may abide its strength!"
And the Directors spoke amongst themselves, saying to one another, "It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong."
And the Directors went unto the Vice Presidents, saying unto them, "It promotes growth, and it is very powerful!"
And the Vice Presidents went unto the President, saying unto him, "This new Plan will actively promote the growth and vigor in the company, with powerful effect!"
And the President looked upon the Plan, and saw that it was good...
And the Plan became Policy.
And that is how shit happens.
The Saga of Management Review of Writing Style
Question: How many feet do mice have?
Original reply: Mice have four feet.
Mgmt. Comment: Elaborate!
Revision 1: Mice have five appendages, and four of them are feet.
Mgmt. Comment: No discussion of fifth appendage!
Revision 2: Mice have five appendages; four of them are feet and one is a tail.
Mgmt. Comment: What? Feet with no legs?
Revision 3: Mice have four legs, four feet and one tail per unit-mouse.
Mgmt. Comment: Confusing -- is that a total of 9 appendages?
Revision 4: Mice have four leg-foot assemblies and one tail assembly per body.
Mgmt. Comment: Does not fully discuss the issue!
Revision 5: Each mouse comes equipped with four legs and a tail. Each leg is equipped with a foot at the end opposite the
body; the tail is not equipped with a foot.
Mgmt. Comment: Descriptive? Yes. Forceful? NO!
Revision 6: Allotment appendages for mice will be: Four leg-foot assemblies, one tail. Deviation from this policy is not permitted as it would constitute misapportionment of scarce appendage assets.
Mgmt. Comment: Too authoritative; stifles creativity!
Revision 7: Mice have four feet; each foot is attached to a small leg joined integrally with the overall mouse structural sub-system. Also attached to the mouse sub-system is a thin tail, non-functional and ornamental in nature.
Mgmt. Comment: Too verbose/scientific. Answer the question!
FINAL REVISION APPROVED BY MANAGEMENT: Mice have four feet.
He grabbed me round my slender neck,
I could not shout or scream,
He carried me into his room
Where we could not be seen;
He tore away my flimsy wrap
And gazed upon my form -
I was so cold and still and damp,
While he was wet and warm.
His feverish mouth he pressed to mine; I let him have his way -
He drained me of my very self,
I could not say him nay.
He made me what I am. Alas!
That's why you find me here...
A broken vessel - broken glass -
That once held Bottled Beer.
Prison Bitch Name Generator
Plug your first and last name in, and the Generator will give you your Prison Bitch Name!
Your Prison Bitch Name is:
has to be one of the best engines for your internet searches. Type a subject in the box and hit 'Google Search' Recommended by Budster
Want to link your page to mine? Send mail by touching my frog
How clever of you to highlight this text just to see what it says!! Now that you have taken the time and trouble to do this, hear what I have to say: ... I would have to guess that the internet has been around so long that folks just don't pay attention to guestbooks anymore. For instance, my guest book rarely gets an entry, and I know by the stat folks and counters and all that other fancy web stuff that there a lot of visitors to my pages, and that I give them an opportunity to sign my guest book on almost every page, but do they? NO, so, what about you? You've taken the time to read this small print, take a little more time to sign my book. TIA