<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315</id><updated>2011-12-19T02:19:57.818+11:00</updated><category term='Marriage'/><category term='Computers'/><category term='Blonde Jokes'/><category term='Odd News'/><category term='Religious'/><category term='Children'/><category term='Technology'/><category term='Luck'/><category term='Observations'/><category term='True Tales'/><category term='Oddities'/><category term='Optical Illusions'/><category term='Jokes'/><category term='Funny Stuff'/><title type='text'>Lotsa Funny Stuff</title><subtitle type='html'>Lots of funny jokes, stories, observations, odd news &amp; videos.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-9037708819987225250</id><published>2010-03-31T15:07:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T15:11:59.062+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Irish Medical Care</title><content type='html'>A doctor in Dublin wanted to get off work and go fishing, so he approached his assistant. "Murphy, I am going fishing tomorrow and don't want to close the clinic. I want you to take care of the clinic and take care of all me patients".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, sir!" answered Murphy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor went fishing and returned the following day and asked: "So, Murphy, how was your day?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murphy told him that he took care of three patients... "The first one had a headache so he did...so I gave him Paracetamol."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bravo Murphy lad, and the second one?" asked the doctor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The second one had indigestion and I gave him Gaviscon... so I did sir" said Murphy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bravo, bravo!...You're good at this and what about the third one?" asked the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sir, I was sitting here and suddenly the door flew open and a young gorgeous woman burst in so she did... Like a bolt outta the blue, she tore off her clothes, took off everyting including her bra and her panties and lay down on the table, spread her legs and shouted: 'HELP ME for the love of St Patrick...For five years I have not seen any man!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tunderin' lard Jesus Murphy, what did you do?" Asked the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I put drops in her eyes"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-9037708819987225250?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/9037708819987225250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=9037708819987225250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/9037708819987225250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/9037708819987225250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/irish-medical-care.html' title='Irish Medical Care'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5050249745971501214</id><published>2009-07-01T03:57:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T04:00:12.082+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny Stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>How to fail online dating</title><content type='html'>This picture explains it all:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://s72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/?action=view&amp;current=OnlineDating.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/OnlineDating.jpg" border="0" alt="Online Dating Failure"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I call an epic failure.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5050249745971501214?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5050249745971501214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5050249745971501214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5050249745971501214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5050249745971501214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/07/how-to-fail-online-dating.html' title='How to fail online dating'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5678257420632091200</id><published>2009-06-25T16:15:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T16:19:06.891+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The 6 Affairs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The First Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day they went to her place and made love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep and woke up at 8 PM. The man hurriedly dressed and told his lover to take his shoes outside and rub them in the grass and dirt. He put on his shoes and drove home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Where have you been?' his wife demanded. 'I can't lie to you,' he replied, 'I'm having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked down at his shoes and said: 'You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The 2nd Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A middle-aged couple had two beautiful daughters but always talked about having a son. They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted. The wife got pregnant and delivered a healthy baby boy. The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his new son. He was horrified at the ugliest child he had ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told his wife: 'There's no way I can be the father of this baby. Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered! Have you been fooling around behind my back?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife smiled sweetly and replied: 'No, not this time!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The 3rd Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mortician was working late one night. He examined the body of Mr. Bob, about to be cremated, and made a startling discovery. Bob had the largest private part he had ever seen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I'm sorry Mr. Bob,' the mortician commented, 'I can't allow you to be cremated with such an impressive private part. It must be saved for posterity.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he removed it, stuffed it into his briefcase, and took it home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I have something to show you won't believe,' he said to his wife, opening his briefcase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'My God!' the wife exclaimed, 'Bob is dead!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The 4th Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was in bed with her lover when she heard her husband opening the front door. 'Hurry,' she said, 'stand in the corner.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rubbed baby oil all over him, then dusted him with talcum powder. 'Don't move until I tell you,' she said. 'Pretend you're a statue.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What's this?' the husband inquired as he entered the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oh it's a statue,' she replied. 'The Smiths bought one and I liked it so I got one for us, too.' No more was said, not even when they went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 2 AM the husband got up, went to the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and a beer. 'Here,' he said to the statue, 'have this. I stood like that for two days at the Smiths and nobody offered me a damned thing.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The 5th Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man walked into a cafe, went to the bar and ordered a beer. 'Certainly, Sir, that'll be one cent.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'One Cent?' the man exclaimed. He glanced at the menu and asked: 'How much for a nice juicy steak and a bottle of wine?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'A nickel,' the barman replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'A nickel?' exclaimed the man. 'Where's the guy who owns this place?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender replied: 'Upstairs, with my wife.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked: 'What's he doing upstairs with your wife?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender replied: 'The same thing I'm doing to his business down here.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The 6th Affair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside. He looked up and said weakly: 'I have something I must confess.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'There's no need to, 'his wife replied...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No,' he insisted, 'I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I know,' she replied. 'Now just rest and let the poison work.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5678257420632091200?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5678257420632091200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5678257420632091200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5678257420632091200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5678257420632091200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/06/6-affairs.html' title='The 6 Affairs'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3489941114449596341</id><published>2009-06-25T16:11:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T16:13:43.742+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Top 10 Signs Of A Tech-Savvy Toddler</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;A three-year-old New Zealand girl recently bought a $NZ20,000 ($15,790) digger on an online auction site.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here are the top 10 signs a toddler is too tech-savvy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The child's profile has administrative privileges and yours doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. They inform you their nappy needs changing by posting to Twitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. They have 74 friends on Facebook, which you discover when you sign up and find yourself as a friend-of-a-friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your parental failures are reported online to Child Services with a link to YouTube video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. They know how to make the DVR play the same episode of Timmy Time on endless repeat, so they can watch it again ... and again ... and again ...and again ... It's Timmy! It's Timmy!     He's the little lamb who's driving us nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You start receiving unexpected royalties for a book called Advanced J2EE Application Development for toddlers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. They publicly advise you on operating the more complex aspects of your mobile phone. If they were, say, five it would be expected, but at age two it's really embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A delivery from your online grocer arrives unexpectedly and consists solely of Kinder Surprises, Tiny Teddies and Paddle Pops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. They don't want to go to school like big brother/sister, they're too busy making money online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. They refer to naptime as "Energy Saver".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3489941114449596341?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3489941114449596341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3489941114449596341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3489941114449596341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3489941114449596341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/06/top-10-signs-of-tech-savvy-toddler.html' title='Top 10 Signs Of A Tech-Savvy Toddler'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-2093611687550453901</id><published>2009-06-25T16:04:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T16:08:50.982+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Crotchless knickers.....</title><content type='html'>A frustrated wife buys a pair of crotchless knickers in an attempt to spice up her dead sex-life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She puts them on, together with a short skirt and sits on the lounge suite opposite her husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At strategic moments she uncrosses her legs ....... enough times until her husband asks....... "Are you wearing crotchless knickers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Y-e-s," she answers with a seductive smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank goodness for that....... I thought the stuffing was coming out of the lounge suite."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Suffice to say, the husband is now suffering a medical condition which would make satisfying his wife a very painful process indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-2093611687550453901?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2093611687550453901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=2093611687550453901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2093611687550453901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2093611687550453901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/06/crotchless-knickers.html' title='Crotchless knickers.....'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6747825830211722287</id><published>2009-04-09T12:10:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T12:24:20.270+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Optical Illusions'/><title type='text'>Pink Dots Illusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;This is another example of an amazing illusion!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your brain works normally this is neat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last sentence is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/?action=view&amp;current=PinkDots.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/PinkDots.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your eyes follow the movement of the rotating pink dot,the dots will remain only one colour, pink...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However if you stare at the black '+' in the centre, the moving dot turns to green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, concentrate on the black '+ ' in the centre of the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a short period, all the pink dots will slowly disappear. You will see only a single green dot rotating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how our brain works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There really is no green dot, and the pink ones really don't disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This should be proof enough, we don't always see what we think we see.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6747825830211722287?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6747825830211722287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6747825830211722287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6747825830211722287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6747825830211722287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/04/pink-dots-illusion.html' title='Pink Dots Illusion'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4155850040647922474</id><published>2009-04-09T11:49:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T11:50:57.274+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Theory  of  Intelligence</title><content type='html'>I don't think I've ever heard the concept explained any better than the way Cliff Clavin described it to his drinking buddy Norm Peterson in the TV show Cheers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://s72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/?action=view&amp;current=Cliff.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Cliff.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Well you see, Norm, it's like this . . . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first.  In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;See, beer is good for you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4155850040647922474?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4155850040647922474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4155850040647922474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4155850040647922474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4155850040647922474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/04/theory-of-intelligence.html' title='The Theory  of  Intelligence'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6716422344693872395</id><published>2009-04-09T11:42:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T11:43:41.509+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Men's Pearls of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>1. When I was born, I was given a choice - a big dick or a good memory. I can't remember what I chose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Your birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A wife is a sex object. Every time you ask for sex, she objects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Impotence: Nature's way of saying 'No hard feelings...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. There are only two four letter words that are offensive to men - 'don't' and 'stop', unless they are used together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Panties: Not the best thing on earth, but next to the best thing on earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. There are three stages of sex in a man's life: Tri Weekly, Try Weekly, and Try Weakly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Virginity can be cured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Virginity is not dignity, its lack of opportunity...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I tried phone sex once, but the holes in the dialler were too small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Marriage is the only war where you get to sleep with the enemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Q: What's an Australian kiss? A: The same thing as a French kiss, only down under.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. A couple just married were happy with the whole thing. He was happy with the Hole and she was happy with the Thing......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Q: What are the three biggest tragedies in a man's life? A: Life sucks, job sucks, and the wife doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Q: Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact? A: Breasts don't have eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Despite the old saying, ' Don 't take your troubles to bed', many men still sleep with their wives!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Send these to the men who need a laugh and the women with a good sense of humour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6716422344693872395?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6716422344693872395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6716422344693872395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6716422344693872395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6716422344693872395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2009/04/mens-pearls-of-wisdom.html' title='Men&apos;s Pearls of Wisdom'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5907318133572686634</id><published>2008-10-31T15:28:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T15:31:12.816+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Monkey Business</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10 each.  The villagers, seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest, and started catching them.  The man bought thousands at $10 and, as supply started to diminish, the villagers' efforts dwindled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the announcement came that he would buy at $20.  This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again.  Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman increased his offer to $25 each and the supply of monkeys became so little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the most exciting offer of all!  He would now be buying monkeys at $50!  However, he had to go to the city on some business, so his assistant would now buy on his behalf.  In the absence of the businessman, the assistant said to the villagers:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected.  I will sell them to you at $35 apiece.  When the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50 each!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The villagers rounded up all their savings and bought every last monkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They never saw the man or his assistant again, and they were stuck with lousy monkeys everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a better understanding of how the stock market works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5907318133572686634?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5907318133572686634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5907318133572686634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5907318133572686634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5907318133572686634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2008/10/monkey-business.html' title='Monkey Business'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-7289904488981860728</id><published>2008-10-07T19:36:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T19:40:15.444+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>New Zealand's Condom Emergency</title><content type='html'>Helen Clarke, Prime Minister of New Zealand, is rudely awoken at 4 am by the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Hillen, its the Hilth Munister here. Sorry to bother you at this hour but there is an emergency! I've just received word thet the Durex fectory en Auckland has burned to the ground. It is istimated thet the entire New Zulland supply of condoms will be gone by the ind of the week.!!!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PM: 'Shut - the economy wull niver be able to cope with all those unwanted babies - wi'll be ruined!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hilth Munister: 'We're going to hef to shup some in from... Brutain?...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PM: 'No chence!! The Poms will have a field day on thus one!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Health Munister: 'What about Australia ?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PM: 'I'll call Kevin Rudd - tell hum we need one million condoms; ten unches long and eight unches thuck! That way they'll continue to respect the All Blacks!!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three days later a delighted Helen rushes out to open the boxes.   She finds condoms; 10 unches long; 8 unches thuck, all coloured green and gold. With small writing on each one.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'MADE IN AUSTRALIA - SIZE: MEDIUM'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie .... Oy Oy Oy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;(Thanks Dad for sending me this one)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-7289904488981860728?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/7289904488981860728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=7289904488981860728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/7289904488981860728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/7289904488981860728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2008/10/new-zealands-condom-emergency.html' title='New Zealand&apos;s Condom Emergency'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6836974108517436207</id><published>2008-07-02T22:51:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T22:51:51.514+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Facelift</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A woman decides to have a face lift for her 50th birthday. She spends $15,000 and feels pretty good about the results. On her way home, she stops at a newsagent to buy a newspaper. Before leaving, she says to the clerk, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"About 32," is the reply.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Nope! I'm exactly 50," the woman says happily.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A little while later she goes into McDonald's and asks the counter girl the very same question.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The girl replies, "I'd guess about 29."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The woman replies with a big smile, "Nope, I'm 50."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now she's feeling really good about herself. She stops in a drug store on her way down the street. She goes up to the counter to get some mints and asks the clerk this burning question.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The clerk responds, "Oh, I'd say 30."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Again she proudly responds, "I'm 50, but thank you!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next to her the same question.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He replies, "Lady, I'm 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was young there was a sure-fire way to tell how old a woman was. It sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under your bra. Then, and only then can I tell you EXACTLY how old you are."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the best of her. She finally blurts out, "What the hell, go ahead."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around very slowly and carefully. He bounces and weighs each breast and he gently pinches each nipple. He pushes her breasts together and rubs them against each other. After a couple of minutes of this, she says, "Okay, okay....How old am I?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and says, "Madam, you are 50."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Stunned and amazed, the woman says, "That was incredible, how could you tell?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The old man says, "Promise you won't get mad?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"I promise I won't," she says.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"I was behind you at McDonalds"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6836974108517436207?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6836974108517436207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6836974108517436207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6836974108517436207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6836974108517436207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2008/07/facelift.html' title='The Facelift'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6485247903153763034</id><published>2008-01-07T19:16:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T19:16:10.167+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny Stuff'/><title type='text'>Instructions For Properly Hugging A Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font color='#cc0000'&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;ATTENTION ALL DOGS!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;THE FOLLOWING ARE IMPORTANT INSTRUCTIONS FOR EVERY DOG TO KNOW&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;Instructions for properly hugging a baby.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1. First, spy a baby:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_1.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;2. Second, be sure that the object you spied is indeed a baby by employing classic sniffing techniques. If you smell baby powder and the wonderful aroma of wet diapers this is indeed a baby: &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_2.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;3. Next you will need to flatten the baby before actually beginning the &lt;b&gt;hugging process&lt;/b&gt;: &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_3.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;**Note: The added slobber should help in future steps by making the "paw slide" easier.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;4. The "paw slide"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Simply slide paws around baby and prepare for possible close-up: &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_4.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;5. Finally, if a camera is present, you will need to execute the difficult and patented "hug, smile, and lean" so as to achieve the best photo quality: &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_5.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dogs, if this is properly done, it will secure you a warm, dry, climate-controlled environment for the rest of your life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;If you don't pass this along, a dog will come out and pee on your computer! &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_6.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_7.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_8.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/Dog_9.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;I guess you didn't send it fast enough!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6485247903153763034?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6485247903153763034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6485247903153763034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6485247903153763034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6485247903153763034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2008/01/instructions-for-properly-hugging-baby.html' title='Instructions For Properly Hugging A Baby'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Dog%20Instructions/th_Dog_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6247675846873821098</id><published>2007-12-30T15:12:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T15:12:31.666+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computers'/><title type='text'>Why Computers Sometimes Crash - by Dr. Seuss</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;This one should be a best-seller:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000031.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#003300'&gt;&lt;b&gt;If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port, and the bus is interrupted at a very last resort, and the access of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, then the socket packet pocket has an error to report. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000062.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#000066'&gt;If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash, and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash, and your data is corrupted cause the index doesn't hash, then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000093.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;font color='#663366'&gt;&lt;b&gt;If the label on the cable on the table at your house, says the network is connected to the button on your mouse, but your packets want to tunnel to another protocol, that's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000124.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#663300'&gt;And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss, so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse; then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang, 'cuz sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000155.gif'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#ff0000'&gt;&lt;b&gt;When the copy on your floppy's getting sloppy in the disk, and the macro code instructions are causing unnecessary risk, then you'll have to flash the memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM, and then quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your Mom! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000186.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#000099'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Well, that certainly clears things up for me. How about you?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/ATT000217.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6247675846873821098?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6247675846873821098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6247675846873821098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6247675846873821098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6247675846873821098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-computers-sometimes-crash-by-dr.html' title='Why Computers Sometimes Crash - by Dr. Seuss'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3487997974031264573</id><published>2007-12-30T01:52:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T01:52:48.979+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Men, Be Warned!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;A valuable lesson for us males of the species here:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first - the truck, the car, playing golf - always something more important to me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I said, "When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The Doctor says that I will walk again, but will always have this limp!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oooops!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3487997974031264573?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3487997974031264573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3487997974031264573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3487997974031264573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3487997974031264573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/men-be-warned.html' title='Men, Be Warned!!!'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-8066738874994339354</id><published>2007-12-30T01:44:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T01:45:40.952+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The Value Of A Drink</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;Some interesting observations on the imbibing of alcohol:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Sometimes  when I reflect back on all the wine I drink I feel  shame. Then  I look into the glass and think about the workers in the vineyards and  all of their hopes and dreams .. If  I didn't drink this wine, they might be out of work and their dreams  would be shattered. Then I say to myself, "It is better that I drink this wine and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver." ~ Jack  Handy&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; "I  feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." ~Frank  Sinatra&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." ~  Henny Youngman&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case.  Coincidence?   I  think not." ~ Stephen Wright &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep.  When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to  heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!" ~ Brian  O'Rourke&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Beer  is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." ~ Benjamin  Franklin&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Without  question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer.  Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." ~ Dave Barry &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;To some  it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group. Salvation in a  can! ~ Dave  Howell&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And saving the best for last, as explained by Cliff  Clavin,of  Cheers. One afternoon at Cheers, Cliff Clavin was explaining the Buffalo Theory to his buddy Norm. Here's how it  went:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Well ya see, Norm, it's like this... A herd of  buffalo can  only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when   the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest  ones at  the back that are killed first."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"This natural selection  is good  for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole  group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"In much the same way, the human brain can  only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of  alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers." &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;As if we need an excuse!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src='http://img104.imageshack.us/img104/8230/dorstig6wi.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v298/dayjavooodew/smileys/food/10_7_5.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b318/patje1/thdrunksmileys.gif'/&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-8066738874994339354?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/8066738874994339354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=8066738874994339354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/8066738874994339354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/8066738874994339354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/value-of-drink.html' title='The Value Of A Drink'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-7175476197728895050</id><published>2007-12-30T01:27:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T01:27:39.273+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Observations'/><title type='text'>Brilliant Comeback!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I was at the mall the other day eating at the food court. I noticed an old man watching a teenager sitting next to him. The teenager had spiked hair in all different colours: green, red, orange, and blue.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The old man kept staring at him. The teenager would look and find the old man staring every time. When the teenager had enough, he sarcastically asked, "What's the matter old man, never done anything wild in your Life?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The old man did not bat an eye in his response, "Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;I like it!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-7175476197728895050?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/7175476197728895050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=7175476197728895050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/7175476197728895050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/7175476197728895050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/brilliant-comeback.html' title='Brilliant Comeback!'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-2698021147348408989</id><published>2007-12-24T10:59:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T11:00:50.556+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Eleventh Husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A young man married a beautiful woman who had previously divorced 10 husbands. On their wedding night, she turned to her new husband and said, "Please be gentle; I'm still a virgin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" said the puzzled groom. "How can that be if you've been married ten times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, husband No.1 was a Sales Representative; he kept telling me how great it was going to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 2 was in Software Services; he was never really sure how it was suppose to function; but he said he'd look into it and get back with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 3 was from Field Services; he said that everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 4 was in Telemarketing; even though he knew he had the order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 5 was an Engineer, he understood the basic process but he wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state of the-art method.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 6 was from Administration; he thought he knew how but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 7 was in Marketing; although he had a product, he was never sure how to position it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 8 was a Psychiatrist; all he did was talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 9 was a Gynaecologist; all he ever did was look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband No. 10 was a Stamp Collector; all he ever did was........... God I miss him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I've married you, I'm so excited".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wonderful", said the husband, "But why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're with the Government. This time I KNOW I'm gonna get screwed!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-2698021147348408989?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2698021147348408989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=2698021147348408989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2698021147348408989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2698021147348408989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/eleventh-husband.html' title='The Eleventh Husband'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3952221338310001577</id><published>2007-12-24T10:51:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T10:51:18.050+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Granny Joins The Hell's Angels</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A little old lady decides to join The Hell's Angels!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One day she goes up and knocks on their clubhouse door. A big, hairy, bearded biker with tattoos all over his arms answers. She boldly proclaims, "I want to join your club."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The guy is amused, and decides to humor her a bit, so he says she needs to meet certain biker requirements in order to join.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The biker asks; "Do you have a motorcycle?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The little old lady replies, "Yep... my bike's parked over there," and points to a flamed black Harley chopper in the driveway.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The biker asks, "Do you drink?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The little old lady replies, "Yep, like a fish. I'll drink any man in your club under the table."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The biker then asks, "Do you smoke?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The little old lady replies, "Yep, smoke like a chimney. At least 4 packs of cigarettes and three joints a day and a couple of cigars in the evening, while I'm shooting pool."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The biker is very impressed and asks, "You sound like one bad Mama. Tell me, have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The little old lady thinks for a minute and says, "Nope, but I've been swung around by my nipples a few times and I kinda liked it."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src='http://www.millan.net/minimations/smileys/mcsmiley4.gif'/&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3952221338310001577?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3952221338310001577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3952221338310001577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3952221338310001577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3952221338310001577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/granny-joins-hell-angels.html' title='Granny Joins The Hell&amp;#39;s Angels'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5664609617460004026</id><published>2007-12-23T14:10:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T14:10:50.864+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Clean Jokes Can Be Funny Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not all good jokes have to be dirty:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One day, a man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in a very Sexy nightie. 'Tie me up,' she purred, 'and you can do anything you want.' &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So he tied her up and went golfing. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;*****************************************&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A woman came home, screeching her car into the driveway, and ran into the house. She slammed the door and shouted at the top of her lungs, 'Honey, pack your bags. I won the lottery!'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband said, 'Oh my God! What should I pack, beach stuff or mountain stuff?'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;'Doesn't matter,' she said. 'Just get out.'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;********************************************&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right, and the other is a husband.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;*************************************&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A Polish immigrant went to the DMV to apply for a driver's license. First, of course, he had to take an eye sight test The optician showed him a card with the letters:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;'C Z W I X N O S T A C Z.'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;'Can you read this?' the optician asked. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;'Read it?' the Polish guy replied, 'I know the guy.'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;*********************************************** &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mother Superior called all the nuns together and said to them, 'I must tell you all something. We have a case of gonorrhoea in the convent.'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;'Thank God,' said an elderly nun at the back. 'I'm so tired of chardonnay.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;********************************************&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A wife was making a breakfast of fried eggs for her husband.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Suddenly, her husband burst into the kitchen. 'Careful,' he said, 'CAREFUL! Put in some more butter! Oh my gosh! You're cooking too many at once. TOO MANY! Turn them! TURN THEM NOW! We need more butter. Oh my gosh! WHERE are we going to get MORE BUTTER? They're going to STICK! Careful. CAREFUL! I said be CAREFUL! You NEVER listen to me when you're cooking! Never! Turn them! Hurry up! Are you CRAZY? Have you LOST your mind? Don't forget to salt them. You know you always forget to salt them. Use the salt! USE THE SALT! THE SALT!'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The wife stared at him. 'What in the world is wrong with you? You think I don't know how to fry a couple of eggs?'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband calmly replied, 'I just wanted to show you what it feels like when I'm driving.'&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;***************************************************************&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Fifty-one years ago, Herman James, a North Carolina mountain man, was drafted by the Army.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On his first day in basic training, the Army issued him a comb. That afternoon the Army barber sheared off all his hair.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On his second day, the Army issued Herman a toothbrush. That afternoon the Army dentist yanked seven of his teeth.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On the third day, the Army issued him a jock strap. The Army has been looking for Herman for 51 years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5664609617460004026?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5664609617460004026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5664609617460004026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5664609617460004026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5664609617460004026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/clean-jokes-can-be-funny-too.html' title='Clean Jokes Can Be Funny Too'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-1326368091903338954</id><published>2007-12-21T01:35:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T01:35:48.377+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd News'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oddities'/><title type='text'>Times When You Shouldn't Hyphenate Names</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Some of these names surely need changing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_50.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_52.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_54.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_56.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_58.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_60.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_62.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_64.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_66.jpg'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/H_3378_68.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-1326368091903338954?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1326368091903338954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=1326368091903338954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1326368091903338954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1326368091903338954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/times-when-you-shouldn-hyphenate-names.html' title='Times When You Shouldn&amp;#39;t Hyphenate Names'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Hyphens/th_H_3378_50.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-591090291069695606</id><published>2007-12-21T01:22:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T01:22:37.519+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Not Flowers Again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Two friends, a blonde and a redhead, are walking down street and pass a flower shop where the redhead sees her boyfriend buying her flowers.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The Redhead sighs and says, "Oh crap, my boyfriend is buying me flowers again."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The blonde looks quizzically at her and says, "You don't like getting flowers from your boyfriend?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The redhead replies, "I love getting flowers, but he always has expectations after giving me flowers, and I just don't feel like spending the next three days on my back with my legs in the air."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The blonde says, "Don't you have a vase?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/blonde.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-591090291069695606?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/591090291069695606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=591090291069695606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/591090291069695606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/591090291069695606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/not-flowers-again.html' title='Not Flowers Again!'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4061595684811470694</id><published>2007-12-21T01:17:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T01:17:12.152+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Sara Pipalini</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Three Italian nuns die and go to heaven.  At the Pearly Gates, they are met by St. Peter.  He says, "Sisters, you all led such exemplary lives that the Lord is granting you six months to go back to earth and be anyone you wish to be."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The first nun says, "I want to be Sophia Loren," and *poof* she's gone.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The second says, "I want to be Madonna," and *poof* she's gone.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The third says, " I want to be Sara Pipalini."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;St. Peter looks perplexed. "Who?" he asks.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Sara Pipalini," replies the nun.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;St. Peter shakes his head and says, "I'm sorry, but that name just doesn't ring a bell."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The nun then takes a newspaper out of her habit and hands it to St. Peter. St. Peter reads the paper and starts laughing.  He hands it back to her and says. "No sister, the paper says it was the 'Sahara Pipeline' that was laid by 1,400 men in 6 months."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you laugh, you are going straight to hell.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4061595684811470694?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4061595684811470694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4061595684811470694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4061595684811470694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4061595684811470694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/sara-pipalini.html' title='Sara Pipalini'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6774849734480250324</id><published>2007-12-19T00:06:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T00:06:19.692+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Beer turns men into women!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Last month, National University of Lesotho scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption.  The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period  It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1) Argued over nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;2) Refused to apologize when obviously wrong.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;3) Gained weight.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;4) Talked excessively without making sense.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;5) Became overly emotional.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;6) Couldn't drive.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;7) Failed to think rationally.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;8) Had to sit down while urinating.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;No further testing was considered necessary.   Send this to the men you know to warn them about drinking too much beer!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And send it to your women friends to give them a good laugh!  If you think they can handle it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v298/dayjavooodew/smileys/food/10_7_5.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6774849734480250324?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6774849734480250324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6774849734480250324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6774849734480250324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6774849734480250324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/beer-turns-men-into-women.html' title='Beer turns men into women!'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6481503655423514143</id><published>2007-12-19T00:00:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T00:00:35.039+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Royal Wedding Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Camilla's new shoes, which she bought for her wedding, got increasingly tighter and tighter as the day went on.  That night, when the festivities were finally over and they retired to their room, she flopped on the bed and said, "Charles, darling, please  remove my shoes.  My feet are killing me!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Her ever-obedient Prince of Wales attacked her right shoe with vigour, but it would not budge.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Harder!" yelled Camilla.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Harder!" Charles yelled back, "I'm trying, darling! But it's just so bloody tight!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Come on! Give it all you've got!" she cried.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Finally, when it released, Charles let out a big groan and Camilla exclaimed, "There! Oh, God, that feels so good!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In their bedroom next door, the Queen said to Prince Phillip,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"See, I told you with a face like that, she was still a virgin!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Meanwhile, as Charles tried to remove her left shoe, he cried, "Oh God, darling! This one's even tighter!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;At which Prince Phillip said to the Queen,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"That's my boy - once a Navy man, always a Navy man!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6481503655423514143?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6481503655423514143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6481503655423514143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6481503655423514143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6481503655423514143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/royal-wedding-night.html' title='Royal Wedding Night'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3992080374124331822</id><published>2007-12-18T23:50:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T23:50:20.303+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='True Tales'/><title type='text'>Computer User Woes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sometimes it isn't the computer that is the problem. Here are a few true tales from tech support that prove that the fault can often be located between the chair and the keyboard......&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Our former problem reporting system had room for a short abstract, and then nearly infinite room for the problem description. On more than one occasion, we received problem tickets whose abstract read "it's broke" and the description was empty. Sadly, not only was the user "uninformative", but the two levels of support below us had just passed it on without any action.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Interestingly, our new system has a finite (and rather small) area for problem description, so the customer's comments are often cut off right in the middle of a word. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here are three experiences I've had over the years with my previous employer: &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Though I'm primarily a programmer, DBA and sysadmin, I've occasionally been drafted into doing PC support. Back in the days of 5.25 inch floppy diskettes I was called by a user who needed help recovering "very important" data from a diskette. When I arrived at her desk she presented me with a diskette that looked like it had been around the block a few too many times. It was unreadable on her machine, so I took it back to my desk and tried some data-recovery tools on it, but without success. So I told her it couldn't be salvaged and she'd have to rely on her backup copy -- which, of course didn't exist. She was quite upset because she said she would have to recreate all the documents on it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When she asked what caused the problem, I told her the diskette probably was defective or damaged from overuse, but that it might be a problem with her diskette drive. I asked her if she had another diskette we could use to test her drive and see whether it was causing any damage. She gave me a diskette which we were able to read on another PC, but after saving a file on it from her machine it became unreadable on either PC. I told her I would order a replacement diskette drive for her. Then she asked me to "fix" the test diskette. Yep, you guessed it: She had given me her only copy of *another* important diskette to test the defective drive.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I arranged to have someone else install her new diskette drive.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On another occasion, a manager called me because he was unable to get his spreadsheet program to print. I went through the usual troubleshooting check-list with him over the phone, and asked him if he had checked his documentation. He insisted repeatedly that he had tried everything in the manual and nothing worked. So I went to his desk and tried it myself. After a few minutes of checking the set-ups and running tests without locating the trouble, I asked to borrow his copy of the manual so I could look up something. He hemmed and hawed for a bit, but finally opened a drawer and sheepishly handed me his manual. The pages inside the loose-leaf binder still were bundled together and shrink-wrapped.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Finally, I received a call once from a manufacturing plant user who was unable to log on to the network. A few minutes' discussion on the phone convinced me there must be something wrong with his terminal, but he claimed it was working fine the day before and he knew nothing about any damage to it. I finally left my office and went to the plant with a new terminal. As I approached his workstation I noticed plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling everywhere. When asked about it he told me that the roof had begun leaking during the previous night's rainstorm. I asked if there was any chance if the terminal had gotten wet, and he said, "Well, it might have gotten a little damp." I looked at it and there was water standing on the key-tops. So I picked up the keyboard, turned it over and drained about a half-cup of water into a nearby coffee cup.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;----------------&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;A few years back our communication dept contacted someone over my head and demanding a brand new "superfast computer". Well that was approved and I was given the task of upgrading that computer. I went on ahead and ordered all the parts to make them a "superfast computer" the only thing I didn't order them was a new case, just because the old case worked fine even if it did look a bit old and used.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So after a week or so I got all the parts in and built it for them in the old case and put it in their office. Right now they had the fastest computer on my network and I figured they were satisfied. I was dead wrong, they complained that I was blowing them off and just gave them back their old computer. Ok well I recently purchased a new case for my computer (which happened to be the same as their old computer), so I wiped my hard drive rebuilt the O/S and applications and gave them that computer. They were happy then because it looked new and fast. They never found out that they never had anything faster then their old computer and that I had a "superfast computer", I just love people like that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;-----------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As a long-time computer support person and educator, I've always observed that many IT people like to feel intellectually superior to their clients by sharing stories about how stupid they are. Personally, I think that showing disdain for your clients is a totally demeaning activity that only shows how little you respect them, and serves only to foster mistrust and widen the communication gap between them and you. It's also a good way to end up being fired. Share your stories if they teach good lessons, but please drop the attitude of intellectual superiority.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;-------------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A solo-practitioner lawyer friend of mine in a nearby small town told me that she had narrowly avoided waking me up early one weekend morning. It seems that her new secretary was just not working out, so the unfortunate staffer was let go.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On Saturday morning, my lawyer friend went in to the office to get some work done and her computers would not come up. It turns out the secretary decided that before she left, she had better remove her files, so she deleted all the files with her initials, DLL.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;------------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Early last year we experienced problems with a point to point T-1 WAN connection going up and down over the course of 8 days. I checked all equipment and had the T-1 provider check the circuit, but everything looked ok. While doing testing, I discovered that one router was ceasing to function as ping response times steadily increased. Finally, I had everyone shut down their computers and had my assistant start them up one by one. In the course of this, my assistant discovered a group of outside financial auditors in a private office. Our CFO had allowed them to connect a small switch and five laptops to our network. Immediately upon learning of this, I had my assistant unplug them and the ping response dropped to normal. Plug them back in? The problem immediately started again. One of the laptops was generating foreign private IP address traffic which the routers did not know how to handle. They passed the accumulating traffic off to each other until one was overwhelmed and stopped functioning. When the auditors were in our office and connected, the WAN link went down. When they left, all was ok.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Brilliant!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Starting that day, all visitors to our offices have to sign in and indicate that they need internet access. The associate they are visiting is required to contact I.T. so we can check the laptop and monitor the network when they connect. Incidentally, the manager of that auditor team later belligerently denied they were the cause of the problem and told us we didn't know what we were talking about. His reasoning? "We are a big accounting firm."? They were later fired as our auditor.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;-----------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Back when I started with a new company, there were only about a dozen computers, and about 8 were networked for the sales and accounting department. In the sales department, they were in the habit of putting information on floppy disks and handing them back and forth (instead of using the server...???). Anyway, one person was assigned to erase the floppies, and would open a DOS window (default to c:\Windows), go to the A drive (A:\) and type Del *.* Effective, until I got a call that her computer was dead. She had somewhere mistyped the command to go to the A drive, and deleted all the files in the Windows directory. Not once, but twice! Finally got them to start using the server for file transfer, and the problem went away. Now up to 70 computers and 3 servers, and no more problems. Amazing...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;----------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We had several users leave for another country and we gave them data aircard, through our cell phone provider, in case they do not have Internet access in the location that they are in. One user decided they would call home with skype over the aircard thinking that they were saveing money because skype was free. It cost the company $17,000 the first month for just that one individual the rest of the company was $6,000 for cell phones and aircards.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;------------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Our telecom coordinator relayed this story to me: a woman in our office brought her telephone with her to a different office within our building. Spying an open phone jack, she plugged in the cable. To make sure the phone was going to work, she checked for dial tone. So far, so good. Going a step further, she got out her cell phone and dialed the number to make sure the phone would ring. Nothing...the phone didn't ring. After a couple more redials and verifying that the ring volume was turned up, she finally tracked down the telecom guy to fix the problem. After a few milliseconds of troubleshooting, the problem was found to be that she was, in fact, dialing HER OFFICE PHONE NUMBER! She thought that her phone number would be the same as it was in her office, since she was using the same telephone! True story.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;------------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Many years ago, in the time of 5.25" diskettes, I had to troubleshoot a problem where all of a particular engineer's diskettes in the filing system were not readable. I tested a number of the diskettes and found that the problem was mechanical - most drives just couldn't spin the diskettes in their sleeves. I visited the engineer, and all his diskettes were fine - and then went to the secretary who did the filing. There she was, with a pre-labeled diskette wound into her typewriter, typing out the diskette contents on it...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;-------------&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sea Eagle: Having worked for a while on a help-desk a few years ago, I had one customer who rang to complain that he could not get the Internet working. He had just purchased his new PC, and was extremely irate. I went through the usual check-list (dial-up settings etc - they were all correct). So I asked him to reset the modem. He asked "what's a modem?" I explained that it is a small box that connects to the phone line so the computer can speak to the Internet. He said he didn't have a modem, and had not plugged his PC into the phone line. When I explained that he had to get a modem, he got very angry, claiming I was trying to rip-him-off, and was just after more of his money. I explained that he should have been given a modem when he bought his PC, and he said that he thought the salesman had been trying to get more money out of him for an unnecessary extra item, and told the salesman that he did not want a modem, and to reduce the price of the PC. It took 10 minutes for me to convince him that a modem was needed to connect to the Internet. The next day he went back to the store (probably very red-faced), and told them that he had decided that he might need a modem after all.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Hope you enjoyed the stories - having worked in customer service for nearly 2 decades, they certainly gave me a laugh.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://www.smiley-channel.de/grafiken/smiley/technik/smiley-channel.de_technik014.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://smileys.smileycentral.com/cat/3/3_8_14.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://img320.imageshack.us/img320/3730/a0370fb.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://badgeaddicts.smfforfree.com/Smileys/badge/ba230.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3992080374124331822?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3992080374124331822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3992080374124331822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3992080374124331822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3992080374124331822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/computer-user-woes.html' title='Computer User Woes'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-2544940375188945495</id><published>2007-12-17T16:46:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T16:46:51.064+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Cheating Painter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;There was a Scottish painter named Gordon who was very interested in making a penny where he could, so he often thinned down his paint to make it go a wee bit further.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As it happened, he got away with this for some time, but eventually the Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on the outside of one of their biggest buildings.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Gordon put in a bid, and, because his price was so low, he got the job. So he set about erecting the scaffolding and setting up the planks, and buying the paint and, yes, I am sorry to say, thinning it down with turpentine.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Well, Gordon was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly completed, when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky opened, and the rain poured down washing the thinned paint from all over the church and knocking Gordon clear off the scaffold to land on the lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by tell-tale puddles of the thinned and useless paint.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Gordon was no fool. He knew this was a judgement from the Almighty, so he got down on his knees and cried:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Oh, God, forgive me; what should I do?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke..&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-2544940375188945495?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2544940375188945495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=2544940375188945495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2544940375188945495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2544940375188945495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/cheating-painter.html' title='Cheating Painter'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3075904313247459661</id><published>2007-12-17T16:07:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T16:07:55.678+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Snoring Cure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A couple has a dog that snores. Annoyed because she can't sleep, the wife goes to the vet to see if he can help. The vet tells the woman to tie a ribbon around the dog's testicles and he will stop snoring.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Yeah right!" she says.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A few minutes after going to bed, the dog begins snoring, as usual. The wife tosses and turns, unable to sleep. Muttering to herself, she goes to the closet and grabs a piece of red ribbon and ties it carefully around the dog's testicles. Sure enough, the dog stops snoring!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The woman is amazed! Later that night, her husband returns home drunk from being out drinking with his mates. He climbs into bed, falls asleep and begins snoring loudly.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The woman thinks maybe the ribbon might work on him. So she goes to the closet again, grabs a piece of blue ribbon and ties it around her husband's testicles. Amazingly, it also works on him! The woman sleeps soundly.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband wakes from his drunken stupor and stumbles into the bathroom. As he stands in front of the toilet, he glances in the mirror and sees a blue ribbon attached to his privates.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He is very confused and as he walks back into the bedroom he sees the red ribbon attached to his dog's testicles. He shakes his head and looks at the dog and whispers, "I don't know where we were, or, what we did ol' matey, but, by God, we took first and second place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3075904313247459661?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3075904313247459661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3075904313247459661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3075904313247459661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3075904313247459661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/snoring-cure.html' title='Snoring Cure'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-2713377237879776372</id><published>2007-12-17T15:57:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T15:57:29.140+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Newly-weds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A couple had only been married for two weeks and the husband, although very much in love, couldn't wait to go out on the town and party with his old buddies. So, he said to his new wife, "Honey, I'll be right back."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Where are you going, Coochy Coo?" asked the wife.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"I'm going to the bar, Pretty Face. I'm going to have a beer."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The wife said, "You want a beer, my love?" She opened the door to the refrigerator and showed him 25 different kinds of beer, brands from 12 different countries: Germany, Holland Japan, India, etc.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband didn't know what to do, and the only thing that he could think of Saying was, "Yes, Lollipop... but at the bar... You know.. they have frozen Glasses... "&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He didn't get to finish the sentence, because the wife interrupted him by saying, "You want a frozen glass, Puppy Face?" She took a huge beer mug out of the freezer, so frozen that she was getting chills just holding it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband, looking a bit pale, said, "Yes, Tootsie Roll, but at the bar they have those hors d'oeuvres that are really delicious... I won't be long. I'll be right back. I promise. OK?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"You want hors d'oeuvres, Poochie Pooh?" She opened the oven and took out 5 dishes of different hors d'oeuvres: chicken wings, pigs in blankets, mushroom caps, and pork strips.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"But my sweet honey... at the bar.... you know there's swearing, dirty words and all that..."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"You want dirty words, Cutie Pie? &lt;b&gt;LISTEN UP CHICKEN S#%T! SIT YOUR A$$ DOWN, SHUT THE HELL UP, DRINK YOUR BEER IN YOUR FROZEN MUG AND EAT YOUR HORS D'OEUVRES BECAUSE YOUR MARRIED A$$ ISN'T GOING TO A DAMNED BAR! THAT S#%T IS OVER, GOT IT, JACKASS?"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And, they lived happily ever after.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Isn't that a sweet story?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://smileys.smileycentral.com/cat/11/11_3_3v.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-2713377237879776372?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2713377237879776372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=2713377237879776372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2713377237879776372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/2713377237879776372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/newly-weds.html' title='The Newly-weds'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3696568178505775921</id><published>2007-12-16T04:00:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T04:02:27.825+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd News'/><title type='text'>Best Response Of The Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/policeman-1.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ever testify in court, you might wish you could have been as sharp as this policeman. He was being cross-examined by a defence attorney during a felony trial. The lawyer was trying to undermine the policeman's credibility...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "Officer -- did you see my client fleeing the scene?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "No sir. But I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender, running several blocks away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "Officer -- who provided this description?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "The officer who responded to the scene."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "A fellow officer provided the description of this so-called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "Yes, sir. With my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "With your life? Let me ask you this then officer. Do you have a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "Yes sir, we do!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "And do you have a locker in the room?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "Yes sir, I do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "And do you have a lock on your locker?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "Yes sir."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: "Now why is it, officer, if you trust your fellow officers with your life, you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with these same officers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: "You see, sir -- we share the building with the court complex, and sometimes lawyers have been known to walk through that room."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The courtroom erupted in laughter, and a prompt recess was called. The officer on the stand has been nominated for this year's "Best Comeback" line -- and we think he'll win.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3696568178505775921?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3696568178505775921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3696568178505775921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3696568178505775921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3696568178505775921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/best-response-of-year.html' title='Best Response Of The Year'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-1418009419434513312</id><published>2007-12-16T03:50:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T03:50:25.928+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Replacement Windows</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Last year I replaced all the windows in my house with those expensive, double-pane energy-efficient kind. Yesterday, I got a call from the contractor who installed them. He was complaining that the windows had been installed a whole year ago and I had not paid for them yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hellloooo? Now just because I'm blonde doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid. So I told him just exactly what his fast-talking sales guy had told ME last year... namely, that in just ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves! Helllooooo"? (I told him). "It's been a year"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up.... He hasn't called back, probably too embarrassed about forgetting the guarantee they made me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bet he won't underestimate a blonde anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;img src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/blonde.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;(And yes folks - the owner of this blog is a true-blue, blue-eyed blonde!)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-1418009419434513312?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1418009419434513312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=1418009419434513312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1418009419434513312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1418009419434513312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/replacement-windows.html' title='Replacement Windows'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4953330453411514058</id><published>2007-12-15T15:45:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T03:40:19.072+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Mexican Oysters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A big Texan stopped at a local restaurant following a day roaming around in Mexico . While sipping his tequila, he noticed a sizzling, scrumptious looking platter being served at the next table. Not only did it look good, the smell was wonderful. He asked the waiter, "What is that you just served?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The waiter replied, "Ah senor, you have excellent taste! Those are called Cojones de Toro, bull's testicles from the bull fight this morning. A delicacy!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The cowboy said, "What the heck, bring me an order."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The waiter replied, "I am so sorry senor. There is only one serving per day because there is only one bull fight each morning. If you come early and place your order, we will be sure to save you this delicacy."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The next morning, the cowboy returned, placed his order, and that evening was served the one and only special delicacy of the day. After a few bites, inspecting his platter, he called to the waiter and said, "These are delicious, but they are much, much smaller than the ones I saw you serve yesterday."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The waiter shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Si, Senor. Sometimes the bull wins instead".&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;img src='http://forum-images.hardware.fr/images/perso/tigrou_bis.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4953330453411514058?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4953330453411514058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4953330453411514058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4953330453411514058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4953330453411514058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/mexican-oysters.html' title='Mexican Oysters'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4498874013540798527</id><published>2007-12-15T15:40:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:40:39.015+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Heart Surgery</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a Harley motorcycle when he spotted a well-known heart surgeon in his shop. The surgeon was there waiting for the service manager to come take a look at his bike when the mechanic shouted across the garage, "Hey Doc, can I ask you a question?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon, a bit surprised, walked over to where the mechanic was working on the motorcycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked, "So Doc, look at this engine. I open its heart, take the valves out, repair any damage, and then put them back in. When I finish, it works just like new. So how come I get such a small salary and you get the really big bucks, when you and I are doing basically the same job?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon paused, smiled and leaned over, and whispered to the mechanic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Try doing it with the engine running"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://smileys.sur-la-toile.com/repository/Transports/moto-rouge-13.gif'/&gt; &lt;img src='http://smileys.sur-la-toile.com/repository/Transports/moto-avance-3.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4498874013540798527?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4498874013540798527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4498874013540798527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4498874013540798527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4498874013540798527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/heart-surgery.html' title='Heart Surgery'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-1658254554489881761</id><published>2007-12-15T15:35:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:35:16.131+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Four Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Four friends, who hadn't seen each other in 30 years, reunited at a party.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After several drinks, one of the men had to use the rest room.  Those who remained talked about their kids.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The first guy said, "My son is my pride and joy. He started working at a successful company at the bottom of the barrel. He studied Economics and Business Administration and soon began to climb the corporate ladder and now he's the president of the company.  He became so rich that he gave his best friend a top of the line Mercedes for his birthday."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The second guy said, "Darn, that's terrific! My son is also my pride and joy. He started working for a big airline, and then went to flight school to become a pilot. Eventually he became a partner in the company, where he owns the majority of its assets. He's so rich that he gave his best friend a brand new jet for his birthday."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The third man said "Well, that's terrific! My son studied in the best universities and became an engineer.  Then he started his own construction company and is now a multimillionaire. He also gave away something very nice and expensive to his best friend for his birthday - a 30,000 square foot mansion."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The three friends congratulated each other just as the fourth returned from the restroom and asked "What's all the congratulations for?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One of the three said "We were talking about the pride we feel for the successes of our sons.  ...What about your son?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The fourth man replied "My son is gay and makes a living dancing as a stripper at a nightclub."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The three friends said " What a shame...what a disappointment."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The fourth man replied "No, I'm not ashamed. He's my son and I love him. And he hasn't done too bad either. His birthday was two weeks ago, and he received a beautiful 30,000 square foot mansion, a brand new jet and a top of the line Mercedes from his three boyfriends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-1658254554489881761?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1658254554489881761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=1658254554489881761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1658254554489881761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/1658254554489881761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/four-friends.html' title='Four Friends'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5156024596750605331</id><published>2007-12-15T15:28:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:28:59.364+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Some Funny Classified Ads</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not sure if they are real ads collected over the years or not, but there are some good ones here:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#003300'&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;Classified Ads&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;8 years old. Hateful little bastard. Bites!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;FREE PUPPIES:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbour's dog.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;FREE PUPPIES..&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mother, AKC German Shepherd.&lt;br/&gt;Father, Super Dog...able to leap tall fences in a single bound.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;FOUND, DIRTY WHITE DOG.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Looks like a rat . Been out a while.&lt;br/&gt;Better be a big reward.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;COWS, CALVES: NEVER BRED.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Also 1 gay bull for sale.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;NORDIC TRACK&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;$300 Hardly used, call Chubby.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;GEORGIA PEACHES&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;California grown - 89 cents lb.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;JOINING NUDIST COLONY!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Must sell washer and dryer $300.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;WEDDING DRESS FOR SALE.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Worn once by mistake . Call Stephanie.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#ff0000'&gt;&lt;b&gt;And the best one:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;FOR SALE BY OWNER:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Complete set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 45 volumes.&lt;br/&gt;Excellent condition.&lt;br/&gt;$1,000 or best offer. No longer needed.&lt;br/&gt;Got married last month. Wife knows everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5156024596750605331?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5156024596750605331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5156024596750605331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5156024596750605331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5156024596750605331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/some-funny-classified-ads.html' title='Some Funny Classified Ads'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-964364233661251123</id><published>2007-12-14T18:13:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T18:13:46.750+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Glass Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A man is dining in a fancy restaurant and there is a gorgeous redhead sitting at the next table. He has been checking her out since he sat down, but lacks the nerve to talk with her. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Suddenly she sneezes, and her glass eye comes flying out of its socket towards the man. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He reflexively reaches out, grabs it out of the air, and hands it back. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Oh my , I am so sorry, " the woman says as she pops her eye back in place. "Let me buy your dinner to make it up to you, " she says. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;They enjoy a wonderful dinner together, and afterwards they go to the theatre followed by drinks. They talk, they laugh, she shares her deepest dreams and he shares his. She listens. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After paying for everything, she asks him if he would like to come to her place for a nightcap and stay for breakfast. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;They had a wonderful, wonderful time. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The next morning, she cooks a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. The guy is amazed! ! Everything had been SO incredible! !! ! &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"You know, " he said, "you are the perfect woman. Are you this nice to every guy you meet? " &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"No, " she replies. . . . . " &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"You just happened to catch my eye."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://myweb.tiscali.co.uk/dirtbox/pics/muttley.gif'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-964364233661251123?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/964364233661251123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=964364233661251123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/964364233661251123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/964364233661251123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/glass-eye.html' title='The Glass Eye'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-9221671618979518990</id><published>2007-12-14T18:08:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T18:08:16.864+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Larry Is In Room 233</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Larry gets home late one night and Linda, his wife, said, "where in the hell have you been?" &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Larry replied, "I was out getting a tattoo."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"A tattoo?" she frowned. "What kind of tattoo did you get?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"I got a hundred dollar bill on my privates," he said proudly.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"What the hell were you thinking?" she said, shaking her head in disgust. "Why on earth would an accountant get a hundred dollar bill tattooed on his privates?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Well, one, I like to watch my money grow. Two, once in a while I like to play with my money. Three, I like how money feels in my hand. And, lastly, instead of you going out shopping, you can stay right here at home and blow a hundred bucks any time you want."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Larry is recovering in room 233 at the local hospital.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-9221671618979518990?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/9221671618979518990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=9221671618979518990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/9221671618979518990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/9221671618979518990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/larry-is-in-room-233.html' title='Larry Is In Room 233'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6493015302867141560</id><published>2007-12-10T23:31:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T23:33:30.710+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>How to tell the sex of a bird</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;This Is AMAZING!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Until now I never fully understood how to tell the difference between male and female birds. I always thought it had to be determined surgically.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Until now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Which of the two birds is a female??? Below are two birds. Study them closely... See if you can spot which of the two is the female. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It can be done. Even by one with limited bird watching skills.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;||&lt;br/&gt;\/&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;||&lt;br/&gt;\/&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href='http://photobucket.com' target='_blank'&gt;&lt;img border='0' src='http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/bird2.gif' alt='Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket'/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you're a man, I hope you had a good laugh. If you're a woman, I hope you have a good sense of humor!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6493015302867141560?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6493015302867141560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6493015302867141560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6493015302867141560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6493015302867141560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/how-to-tell-sex-of-bird.html' title='How to tell the sex of a bird'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6410033181783320108</id><published>2007-12-10T23:09:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T23:11:38.742+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Smart Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A woman goes to Italy to attend a 2-week, company training session.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Her husband drives her to the airport and wishes her to have a good trip.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The wife answers : "Thank you honey, what would you like me to bring back from Italy for you?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The husband laughs and says: "An Italian girl !!!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The woman kept quiet and left.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Two weeks later he picks her up in the airport and asks: "So, honey, how was the trip?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Very good, thank you." &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"And, what happened to my present?"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Which present?" She asked.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"The one I asked for - an Italian girl!!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Oh, that" she said "Well, I did what I could, now we have to wait for nine months to see if it is a girl !!!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Moral of the story: Don't tempt a woman, they are far too intelligent!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6410033181783320108?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6410033181783320108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6410033181783320108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6410033181783320108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6410033181783320108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/smart-woman.html' title='Smart Woman'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4917414974266120500</id><published>2007-12-08T04:13:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T04:14:31.057+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Will The Preacher Stay?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;A Preacher was explaining that he must move on to a larger congregation that will pay him more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a hush within the congregation, ...no one wants him to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe Smith, who owns several car dealerships in the City stands up and proclaims,.... "If the Preacher stays, I will provide him with a new Cadillac every year, and his wife with a Honda mini-van to transport their children!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The congregation sighs in relief, and applauds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam Brown, a successful entrepreneur and investor, stands and says, "If the Preacher will stay on here, I'll personally double his salary, and also establish a foundation to guarantee the college education of all his children!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More sighs and loud applause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadie Jones, age 88, stands and announces with a smile, "If the Preacher stays, I will give him sex!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is total silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Preacher, blushing, asks her, "Mrs. Jones, whatever possessed you to say that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadie's 90 year old husband Jake is now trying to hide, holding his forehead with the palm of his hand, and shaking his head from side to side, while his wife replies, "Well, I just asked my husband how we could help, and he said, .... "Screw the Preacher!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4917414974266120500?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4917414974266120500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4917414974266120500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4917414974266120500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4917414974266120500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/will-preacher-stay.html' title='Will The Preacher Stay?'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3588871324637711267</id><published>2007-12-08T04:08:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T04:08:58.126+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Fast Eddie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Eddie wanted desperately to have sex with this really cute, really hot girl in his office.... but she was dating someone else.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One day Eddie got so frustrated that he went to her and said, "I'll give you a $100 if you let me have sex with you..."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The girl looked at him, and then said, "NO."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eddie said, "I'll be real fast. I'll throw the money on the floor, you bend down, and I'll finish by the time you've picked it up."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;She thought for a moment and said that she would consult with her boyfriend....  so she called him and explained the situation.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Her boyfriend says, "Ask him for $200, and pick up the money really fast. He won't even be able to get his pants down." She agreed and accepted the proposal.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Over half an hour went by and the boyfriend was still waiting for his girlfriend's call. Finally, after another hour the boyfriend called and asked what happened....?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Still breathing hard, she managed to reply, "The bastard had all 5 cent pieces!"&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Management lesson: Always consider a business proposition in it's entirety before agreeing to it and getting screwed.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3588871324637711267?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3588871324637711267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3588871324637711267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3588871324637711267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3588871324637711267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/fast-eddie.html' title='Fast Eddie'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-3308932285994740376</id><published>2007-12-06T23:51:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T00:00:06.812+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Luck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd News'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oddities'/><title type='text'>Amazing Luck!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They say that God watches over fools and the feeble-minded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do not scroll down until you have read the scenario below this photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Crash1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Crash1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Click for full-size&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Look at this picture above and you can see where this guy broke through the guard rail (right side where the people are standing on the road).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His truck left the road, travelling from right to left. He flipped end-over-end, across the culvert outlet and landed on the left side of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now look at the 2nd picture below&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;||&lt;br /&gt;\/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;||&lt;br /&gt;\/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;||&lt;br /&gt;\/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;||&lt;br /&gt;\/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Crash2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i183/seaeagle_2006/Crash2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Click for full-size&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you say he was lucky?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verification that this is true &amp;amp; not clever photo-editing: &lt;a href="http://www.snopes.com/photos/accident/culvert.asp" target="_blank"&gt;Truck Jumps Culvert&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-3308932285994740376?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3308932285994740376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=3308932285994740376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3308932285994740376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/3308932285994740376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/amazing-luck.html' title='Amazing Luck!'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5547010288213939385</id><published>2007-12-06T04:43:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T04:43:09.444+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Humor For Lexophiles (Lovers Of Words)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Get ready to cringe folks - there are quite a few groaners coming up:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* Police were called to a day care where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The butcher backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* To write with a broken pencil is pointless.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* When fish are in schools they sometimes take debate.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was described as a small medium at large.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A thief who stole a calendar got twelve months.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A thief fell and broke his leg in wet cement. He became a hardened criminal.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* Thieves who steal corn from a garden could be charged with stalking.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* We'll never run out of math teachers because they always multiply.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U.C.L.A.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The math professor went crazy with the blackboard. He did a number on it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The professor discovered that her theory of earthquakes was on shaky ground.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* The dead batteries were given out free of charge.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* If you take a laptop computer for a run you could jog your memory.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A dentist and a manicurist fought tooth and nail.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A backward poet writes inverse.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France, resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A calendar's days are numbered.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* A plateau is a high form of flattery.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;* When she saw her first strands of grey hair, she thought she'd dye.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;I  know, they are terrible!!  ;-)  :-D&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5547010288213939385?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5547010288213939385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5547010288213939385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5547010288213939385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5547010288213939385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/humor-for-lexophiles-lovers-of-words.html' title='Humor For Lexophiles (Lovers Of Words)'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-6283123355707661263</id><published>2007-12-06T04:20:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T04:20:32.880+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oddities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>10 Best Things About Being Married To A Robot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Artificial Intelligence researcher &lt;a target='_blank' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Levy_%28scientist%29'&gt;David Levy&lt;/a&gt; has predicted that &lt;a target='_blank' href='http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21271545/'&gt;humans will marry robots within 50 years&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Here are the 10 best things about being married to a robot.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The housework will get done while you are asleep so you always wake up to a clean house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. It won't leave the toilet seat up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. It can quiet a squawking pet cockatoo with a single blast of its laser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. On the 10th wedding anniversary, you don't have to look too far for a tin or aluminium gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. People might look at you weirdly for marrying a robot, but they'll change their tune after it switches to exterminate mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. It sleeps in a docking station, so no more doona battles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. It could mind the children, but a union with a robot wouldn't produce any, would it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. They can be upgraded year by year to the latest model -- and I mean "model".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. They have a really, really caring and supportive permanent listening mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The off button.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-6283123355707661263?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6283123355707661263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=6283123355707661263' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6283123355707661263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/6283123355707661263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/10-best-things-about-being-married-to.html' title='10 Best Things About Being Married To A Robot'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-5011224871410231016</id><published>2007-12-06T03:07:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T16:02:10.875+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Man Who Wouldn't Listen</title><content type='html'>Wanda's dishwasher quit working so she called a repairman. Since she had to go to work the next day, she told the repairman, 'I'll leave the key under the mat. Fix the dishwasher, leave the bill on the counter, and I'll mail you a check .'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oh, by the way don't worry about my dog Spike. He won't bother you. But, whatever you do, do NOT, under ANY circumstances, talk to my parrot!' &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'I REPEAT; DO NOT TALK TO MY PARROT!!!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the repairman arrived at Wanda's apartment the following day, he discovered the biggest, meanest looking dog he has ever seen. But, just as she had said, the dog just lay there on the carpet watching the repairman go about his work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uhS795AlGDs/R1bNQ2l_gAI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Qy2QPd8PWyc/s1600-h/Doggy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uhS795AlGDs/R1bNQ2l_gAI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Qy2QPd8PWyc/s400/Doggy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140521714106466306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parrot, however, drove him nuts the whole time with his incessant yelling, cursing and name calling. Finally the repairman couldn't contain himself any longer and yelled,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Shut up, you stupid, ugly bird!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uhS795AlGDs/R1bNRGl_gBI/AAAAAAAAAA4/7HPB_1j98Ao/s1600-h/UglyBird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uhS795AlGDs/R1bNRGl_gBI/AAAAAAAAAA4/7HPB_1j98Ao/s400/UglyBird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140521718401433618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To which the parrot replied, 'Get him, Spike!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-5011224871410231016?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5011224871410231016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=5011224871410231016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5011224871410231016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/5011224871410231016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/man-who-wouldnt-listen.html' title='The Man Who Wouldn&apos;t Listen'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uhS795AlGDs/R1bNQ2l_gAI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Qy2QPd8PWyc/s72-c/Doggy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2592307572359156315.post-4953560813690793572</id><published>2007-12-06T02:02:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T02:05:43.910+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Observations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>How To Make A Woman Happy….And A Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;How to Make a Woman Happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It’s not difficult for a man to make a woman happy. A man only needs to be…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. a friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. a companion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. a lover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. a brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. a father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. a master&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. a chef&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. an electrician&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. a carpenter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. a plumber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. a mechanic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. a decorator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. a stylist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. a sexologist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. a gynaecologist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. a psychologist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. a pest exterminator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. a psychiatrist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. a healer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. a good listener&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. an organizer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. a good father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. very clean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. sympathetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. athletic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. attentive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. gallant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. intelligent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. funny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. creative&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. tender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. strong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. understanding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. tolerant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. prudent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. ambitious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. capable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. courageous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. determined&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. dependable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. passionate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. compassionate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. give her compliments regularly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. love shopping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. be honest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. be very rich&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. not stress her out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. not look at other girls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AND AT THE SAME TIME, A MAN MUST ALSO:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. give her lots of time, especially time for herself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;PLUS IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Never to forget:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* birthdays&lt;br /&gt;* anniversaries&lt;br /&gt;* arrangements she makes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Show up naked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Bring beer ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See - us men are easy to please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2592307572359156315-4953560813690793572?l=lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4953560813690793572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2592307572359156315&amp;postID=4953560813690793572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4953560813690793572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2592307572359156315/posts/default/4953560813690793572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsafunnystuff.blogspot.com/2007/12/how-to-make-woman-happyand-man.html' title='How To Make A Woman Happy….And A Man'/><author><name>Scott Ford</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/111170537640863695279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e92xYwzLcfw/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABzY/ickpOq7dSOY/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
