A boy come home from school and hears a racket upstairs. He races up stairs to and flings open his parents bedroom door to find his father behind his mother. the father winks and tells the boy to shut the door. the boy does as told.
The next day the father comes home and hears noise from his son's room, so he races up to the boys room and flings open the door to check on him. The boy has his grandmother bent over, the father is horrified....the boy says "Not so funny when its your Mom is it?"
Don't under estimate someone because they are not like you
because they can be a blessing to you.
While checking the church storeroom, the Pastor discovered
several cartons of new Bibles that had never been opened and
distributed.
So at his Sunday sermon, he asked for three volunteers from the
congregation who would be willing to sell the Bibles door-to-
door for $10 each to raise the desperately needed money for the
church.
Jack, Paul and Louie all raised their hands to volunteer for the
task. The minister knew that Jack and Paul earned their living
as salesmen and were likely capable of selling some Bibles. But
he had serious doubts about Louie who was a local farmer, who
had always kept to himself because he was embarrassed by his
speech impediment.
Poor Louie stuttered badly. But, not wanting to discourage
Louie, the minister decided to let him try anyway.
He sent the three of them away with the back seat of their cars
stacked with Bibles.
He asked them to meet with him and report the results of their
door-to-door selling efforts the following Sunday.
Anxious to find out how successful they were, the minister
immediately asked Jack, "Well, Jack, how did you make out
selling our Bibles last week?"
Proudly handing the reverend an envelope, Jack replied, "Using
my sales prowess, I was able to sell 20 Bibles, and here's the
$200 I collected on behalf of the church."
"Fine job, Jack!" The minister said, vigorously shaking his
hand. "You are indeed a fine salesman and the Church is
indebted to you."
Turning to Paul, "And Paul, how many Bibles did you sell for the
church last week?"
Paul, smiling and sticking out his chest, confidently replied,
"I am a professional salesman. I sold 28 Bibles on behalf of the
church, and here's $280 I collected."
The minister responded, "That's absolutely splendid, Paul. You
are truly a professional salesman and the church is also
indebted to you."
Apprehensively, the minister turned to Louie and said, "And
Louie, did you manage to sell any Bibles last week?" Louie
silently offered the minister a large envelope.
The minister opened it and counted the contents. "What is this?"
the minister exclaimed. "Louie, there's $3200 in here! Are you
suggesting that you sold 320 Bibles for the church, door to
door, in just one week?"
Louie just nodded. That's impossible!" both Jack and Paul said
in unison. "We are professional salesmen, yet you claim to have
sold 10 times as many Bibles as we could."
"Yes, this does seem unlikely," the minister agreed. "I think
you'd better explain how you managed to accomplish this, Louie."
Louie shrugged. "I-I-I re-re-really do-do-don't kn-kn-know f-f-
f-for sh-sh-sh-sure," he stammered.
Impatiently, Peter interrupted. "For crying out loud, Louie,
just tell us what you said to them when they answered the door!"
"A-a-a-all I-I-I s-s-said wa-wa-was," louie replied, "W-w-w-w-
would y-y-y-you l-l-l-l-l-like t-t-to b-b-b-buy th-th-th-this
b-b-b-b-bible f-f-for t-t-ten b-b-b-bucks ---o-o-o-or--- wo-wo-
would yo-you j-j-j-just l-like m-m-me t-t-to st-st-stand h-h-
here and r-r-r-r-r-read it t-to y-y-you??"
Joined: 08 Jan 2008 Posts: 190 Location: grand coulee,wa 190 eGriz Bucks
Apparently Winston Churchill was at an uppercrust party. Not unlike Winston, he had a little too much to drink. The matron came up to him and said " Winston, your drunk" to which he replied " That, ma'am, is indeed true, but your ugly and in the morning I'll be sober!"
A minister decided that a visual demonstration would add emphasis to his Sunday sermon.
Four worms were placed into four separate jars.
The first worm was put into a container of alcohol.
The second worm was put into a container of cigarette smoke.
The third worm was put into a container of chocolate syrup.
The fourth worm was put into a container of good clean soil.
At the conclusion of the sermon, the Minister reported the following
results:
The first worm in alcohol -Dead.
The second worm in cigarette smoke -Dead
Third worm in chocolate syrup -Dead
Fourth worm in good clean soil -Alive.
So the Minister asked the congregation -
What can you learn from this demonstration?
Maxine was sitting in the back, quickly raised her hand and said,
"As long as you drink, smoke and eat chocolate, you won't have worms!"
Joined: 01 Nov 2007 Posts: 37 Location: the rez 97 eGriz Bucks
A drunk was sitting at the corner of the bar,when a very well endowed lady walked in and took the seat adjacent to him.
Gazing at the clevege he casually asked her if he could kiss her
tits for 5 dollars. She slapped him, called him a low life and told
him to mind his own business.
He thinks it over for a drink or two and ups his ante. He asks
her if he could kiss her breasts for 10 dollars. He takes another
hit. She calls him a pervert, tells him to shut up. So he thinks it
over for another drink, and makes his last offer. He says, Lady
how bout you let me kiss them for $100.00. Well she's thinking
now and says a $100.00 is a $100.00, what could it hurt, he
looks harmless. So "what the hell" she flops them out on the bar.
He sticks his head between them and motorboats them,he puts
the funny end part in his eye and ear, and he's messing around
when she looks down and tells him to kiss them, that she doesn't
have all day. He answers her! I can't, I don't have a hundred bucks.
Joined: 16 Oct 2005 Posts: 3658 Location: Ferndale (Bellingham), WA 1443 eGriz Bucks
Woman's Note to Diary:
Quote:
My husband, being unhappy with my mood swings bought me a mood ring the
other day so he would be able to monitor my moods. We've discovered that
when I'm in a good mood, it turns green. When I'm in a bad mood, it leaves
a big f-cking red mark on his forehead. Maybe next time he'll buy me a
diamond.
Joined: 16 Oct 2005 Posts: 3658 Location: Ferndale (Bellingham), WA 1443 eGriz Bucks
Voted Best Joke in Ireland 2007
John O'Reilly hoisted his beer and said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life!, between the legs of me wife!"
That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night!
He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for the Best toast of the night."
She said, "Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?"
John said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife."
"Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!" Mary said.
The next day, Mary ran into one of John's drinking buddies on the street corner.
The man chuckled leeringly and said, "John won the prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, Mary."
She said, "Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised myself. You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come."
Joined: 06 Oct 2006 Posts: 436 Location: way out west 3312 eGriz Bucks
...the guy sitting at the bar next to the attractive lady keeps tapping and looking at his watch...
...she asks him if his date is late or something...
...no he explains..that he has one of those new telepathic
watches..that tell him what is happening around him...
...she asks him what his telepathic watch it telling him...
...he says that it's telling him she is not wearing any panties...
...well she sez that his fancy watch is wrong..because she is
wearing panties...
...looking at his watch and tapping it he sez..damn thing is
running about an hour fast...
...not sure if it's a joke..or a good pick up line... ...
*COLONOSCOPY ...........by DAVE BARRY*
Dave Barry: *17,000 feet of fear for nothing
*
OK. You turned 50. You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy. But you haven't.
Here are your reasons:
1. You've been busy.
2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family.
3. You haven't noticed any problems.
4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.
Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural.
The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ''behindular zone'' gives you the creeping willies.
I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It's much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor's office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot.
In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy.
I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.
What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It's an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer.
The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and you get a colonoscopy.
If you are as a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one.
But I didn't get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.
Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn't gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said:
"Dear Brothers,
"I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis:
cancer. We're told it's early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.''
Um. Well.
First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ``HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!''
I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.
Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.
Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water.
(For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here,
but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything.
And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?''
How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.
Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode.
You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.
''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.
''Ha ha,'' I said.
And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.
I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .''
. . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.
But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing.
If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened -- he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn't have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as ''really, really boring food.'' His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that.
Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms.
Over-50-And-Hasn't-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here's the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don't. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don't have cancer, believe me, it's very reassuring to know you don't. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done.
I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get a colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don't mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit.
But even if you don't want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don't put it off. Just do it.
Be sure to stress that you want the non-Abba version.
SYDNEY — A New Zealand man has been sentenced to community service after telling police he was raped by a wombat and the experience had made him speak "Australian".
Arthur Ross Cradock, 48, from the South Island town of Motueka, called police on February 11 and told them he was being raped at his home by the wombat and he needed help, The Nelson Mail newspaper reported.
The orchard worker later called back and said: "Apart from speaking Australian now, I'm pretty all right, you know."
Cradock pleaded guilty in the local court to using a phone for a fictitious purpose. He was sentenced to 75 hours' community work.
Police prosecutor Sergeant Chris Stringer told the court alcohol played a large role in Cradock's life.
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