<?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-11054672</id><updated>2011-07-31T01:06:55.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Forwards</title><subtitle type='html'>These tickle me.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-4474296577497103029</id><published>2009-09-21T13:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T13:47:48.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HAVING MOM OVER FOR DINNER</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Brian invited his mother over for dinner. During the course of the meal, Brian&amp;#39;s mother couldn&amp;#39;t help but notice how beautiful Brian&amp;#39;s roommate, Jennifer, was. Brian&amp;#39;s Mom had long been suspicious of the platonic relationship between Brian and Jennifer, and this had only made her more curious. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Brian and Jennifer than met the eye. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Reading his mom&amp;#39;s thoughts, Brian volunteered, &amp;#39;I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you Jennifer and I are just roommates.&amp;#39; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;About a week later, Jennifer came to Brian saying, &amp;#39;Ever since your mother came to dinner, I&amp;#39;ve been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don&amp;#39;t suppose she took it, do you?&amp;#39;  Brian said, &amp;#39;Well, I doubt it, but I&amp;#39;ll send her an e-mail just to be sure. So he sat down and wrote: &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Dear Mom, &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I&amp;#39;m not saying that you &amp;#39;did&amp;#39; take the gravy ladle from the house, I&amp;#39;m not saying that you &amp;#39;did not&amp;#39; take the gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Love, Brian &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Several days later, Brian received an email back from his mother that read: &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt;Dear Son, &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m not saying that you &amp;#39;do&amp;#39; sleep with Jennifer, I&amp;#39;m not saying that you &amp;#39;do not&amp;#39; sleep with Jennifer. But the fact remains that if Jennifer is sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Love, Mom &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;LESSON OF THE DAY -   NEVER LIE TO YOUR MOTHER!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-4474296577497103029?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/4474296577497103029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=4474296577497103029' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/4474296577497103029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/4474296577497103029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2009/09/having-mom-over-for-dinner.html' title='HAVING MOM OVER FOR DINNER'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-2843040576247806552</id><published>2009-09-03T14:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T20:52:52.357-06:00</updated><title type='text'>FBI Job</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The FBI had an opening for an assassin.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all the background checks,interviews and testing were done, there were 3 finalists; two men and a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill her!!' The man said, 'You can't be serious. I could never shoot my wife.' &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agent said, 'Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home.'&lt;/div&gt; &lt;p&gt;The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, 'I tried, but I can't kill my wife.' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agent said, 'You don't have what it takes. Take your wife home.'&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband.  She took the gun and went into the room.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shots were heard, one after another.  They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman, wiping the sweat from her brow. 'This gun is loaded with blanks' she said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;'I had to beat him to death with the chair.'&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;MORAL:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Women are crazy. Don't mess with them. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-2843040576247806552?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/2843040576247806552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=2843040576247806552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/2843040576247806552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/2843040576247806552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2009/09/fbi-job.html' title='FBI Job'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-7445261356190625070</id><published>2009-09-03T14:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T14:55:49.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bottle of wine</title><content type='html'>A woman and a man are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday morning; it's a bad one.   Both of their cars are totally demolished, but amazingly neither of them are hurt.  God works in mysterious ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they crawl out of their cars, the man is yelling about women drivers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman says, 'So, you're a man.  That's interesting. I'm a woman.  Wow, just look at our cars! There's nothing left, but we're unhurt.  This must be a sign from God that we should be friends and live in peace for the rest of our days'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flattered, the man replies, 'Oh yes, I agree completely, this must be a sign from God!  But you're still at fault...women shouldn't be allowed to drive.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman continues, 'And look at this, here's another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn't break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman takes the bottle, puts the cap back on and hands it back to the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asks, 'Aren't you having any?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replies, 'No. I think I'll just wait for the police....'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;MORAL OF THE STORY: &lt;br /&gt;Women are clever, evil bitches. Don't mess with us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-7445261356190625070?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/7445261356190625070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=7445261356190625070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/7445261356190625070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/7445261356190625070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2009/09/bottle-of-wine.html' title='Bottle of wine'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-8279056481564854644</id><published>2008-09-27T17:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T17:25:28.397-06:00</updated><title type='text'>COSTELLO CALLS TO BUY A COMPUTER FROM ABBOTT</title><content type='html'>You have to be old enough to remember Abbott and Costello, and too old to REALLY understand computers, to fully appreciate this. For those of us who sometimes get flustered by our computers, please read on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were alive today, their infamous sketch, "Who's on First?" might have turned out something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO CALLS TO BUY A COMPUTER FROM ABBOTT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Super Duper computer store. Can I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Thanks. I'm setting up an office in my den and I'm thinking about buying a computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Mac?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: No, the name's Lou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Your computer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I don't own a computer. I want to buy one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Mac?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I told you, my name's Lou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: What about Windows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Why? Will it get stuffy in here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Do you want a computer with Windows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I don't know. What will I see when I look at the windows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Wallpaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Never mind the windows. I need a computer and software.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Software for Windows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: No. On the computer! I need something I can use to write proposals, track expenses and run my business. What do you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Yeah, for my office. Can you recommend anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: I just did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: You just did what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Recommend something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: You recommended something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: For my office?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: OK, what did you recommend for my office?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Yes, for my office!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: I recommend Office with Windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I already have an office with windows! OK, let's just say I'm sitting at my computer and I want to type a proposal. What do I need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: What word?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Word in Office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: The only word in office is office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: The Word in Office for Windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Which word in office for windows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: The Word you get when you click the blue "W".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I'm going to click your blue "w" if you don't start with some straight answers. What about financial bookkeeping? You have anything I can track my money with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: That's right. What do you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I need money to track my money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: It comes bundled with your computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: What's bundled with my computer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Money comes with my computer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Yes. No extra charge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: I get a bundle of money with my computer? How much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: One copy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: Isn't it illegal to copy money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Microsoft gave us a license to copy Money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: They can give you a license to copy money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Why not? THEY OWN IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(A few days later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Super Duper computer store. Can I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COSTELLO: How do I turn my computer off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABBOTT: Click on "START".............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-8279056481564854644?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8279056481564854644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=8279056481564854644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8279056481564854644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8279056481564854644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/09/costello-calls-to-buy-computer-from.html' title='COSTELLO CALLS TO BUY A COMPUTER FROM ABBOTT'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-8029144223295681879</id><published>2008-06-09T22:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T22:30:27.075-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A.A.A.D.D.</title><content type='html'>Sadly it is true!!!  &lt;br /&gt;Recently, I was diagnosed with A.A.A.D.D. - &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;(Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder) &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;This is how it manifests: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide to water my garden. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;As I turn on the hose in the driveway, I look over at my car and decide it needs washing. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;As I start toward the garage, I notice mail on the porch table that I brought up from the mail box earlier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table, and notice that the can is full. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my check book off the table, and see that there is only one check left. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find the can of Coke I'd been drinking. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;The Coke is getting warm, and I decide to put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye--they need water. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;I put the Coke on the counter and discover my reading glasses that I've been searching for all morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to water the flowers. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water and suddenly spot the TV remote. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;Someone left it on the kitchen table. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I'll be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor. &lt;br /&gt;So, I set the remote back on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;Then, I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day: &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;the car isn't washed &lt;br /&gt;the bills aren't paid &lt;br /&gt;the flowers don't have enough water, &lt;br /&gt;there is still only 1 check in my check book, &lt;br /&gt;I can't find the remote, &lt;br /&gt;I can't find my glasses, &lt;br /&gt;and I don't remember what I did with the car keys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today,  &lt;br /&gt;I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all damn day, and I'm really tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-8029144223295681879?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8029144223295681879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=8029144223295681879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8029144223295681879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8029144223295681879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/06/aaadd.html' title='A.A.A.D.D.'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-1750877217304285629</id><published>2008-06-09T21:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T21:56:04.715-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Women Find Attractive</title><content type='html'>UCLA STUDY (VERY INTERESTING &amp; SHORT)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A study worth sharing with friends both male and female.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.   For example: If she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating, or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear lodged in his chest while he is on fire.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No further studies are expected.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-1750877217304285629?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/1750877217304285629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=1750877217304285629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/1750877217304285629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/1750877217304285629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-women-find-attractive.html' title='What Women Find Attractive'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-7689432016266479405</id><published>2008-04-17T22:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T22:23:21.875-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarcasma Advertisment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NC2iGFrA8CQ/SAgh-CizRLI/AAAAAAAABLs/dsZJv1THezc/s1600-h/Sarcasma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NC2iGFrA8CQ/SAgh-CizRLI/AAAAAAAABLs/dsZJv1THezc/s400/Sarcasma.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190435920262939826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-7689432016266479405?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/7689432016266479405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=7689432016266479405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/7689432016266479405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/7689432016266479405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/04/sarcasma-advertisment.html' title='Sarcasma Advertisment'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NC2iGFrA8CQ/SAgh-CizRLI/AAAAAAAABLs/dsZJv1THezc/s72-c/Sarcasma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-8504137733083806940</id><published>2008-04-01T22:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T22:10:28.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Neologisims</title><content type='html'>Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.&lt;br /&gt;The winners are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Negligent (adj.) describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and? Supply a new definition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are this year's winners:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.&lt;br /&gt;(This one got extra credit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Karmageddon (n): its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the pick of the literature:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an XXXhole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-8504137733083806940?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8504137733083806940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=8504137733083806940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8504137733083806940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/8504137733083806940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/04/neologisims.html' title='Neologisims'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-4906271746559248366</id><published>2008-02-02T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T20:54:52.305-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Scored 9 / 10</title><content type='html'>Can you judge someone by looking at them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By looking at a picture of a person, you have to decide if he is a computer geek or a serial killer.  Go with your gut feeling and click on your   choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 10 photos. Your score will be given at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click here at link below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.malevole.com/mv/misc/killerquiz"&gt;http://www.malevole.com/mv/misc/killerquiz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-4906271746559248366?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/4906271746559248366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=4906271746559248366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/4906271746559248366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/4906271746559248366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2008/02/scored-9-10.html' title='Scored 9 / 10'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116328591432701352</id><published>2006-11-11T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:58:34.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wal-Mart husband</title><content type='html'>Mr. and Mrs. Fenton are retired. Mrs. Fenton insists that he go with her to Walmart. He gets bored with all the shopping.  He prefers to get in and get out, but Mrs. Fenton loves to browse. Here's a letter sent to her from the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mrs. Fenton,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may ban both of you from our stores. We have documented all incidents on our video surveillance equipment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things Mr. Bill Fenton has done while his spouse was shopping in Walmart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the restrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official tone, 'Code 3' in housewares... and watched what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Aug 4: Went to the Service Desk and asked to put a bag of M&amp;M's on layaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Sept 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Sept 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Sept 23: When a clerk asks if they can help him, he begins to cry and asks, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Oct 4: Looked right into the security camera; used it as a mirror, and picked his nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Nov 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, asked the clerk if he knows where to find the antidepressants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Dec 3: Darted around the store suspiciously loudly humming the &lt;i&gt;Mission Impossible&lt;/i&gt; theme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Dec 6: In the auto department, practiced his "Madonna look" using different size funnels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Dec 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browse through, yelled "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Dec 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumes the fetal position and screams "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last, but not least...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Dec 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116328591432701352?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116328591432701352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116328591432701352' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328591432701352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328591432701352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/11/wal-mart-husband.html' title='Wal-Mart husband'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116328556795857560</id><published>2006-11-11T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:52:47.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Consumer Labels</title><content type='html'>In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods that can be found today being sold in stores nationwide:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. On Sears hairdryer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not use while sleeping."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(But..., that's the only time I have to work on my hair)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. On a bar of Dial soap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Directions: Use like regular soap."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And that would be how. . . ?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. On some Swanson frozen dinners:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Serving suggestions: Defrost."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(But it's "just" a suggestion)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom of box):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not turn upside down."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oops, too late!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. On Marks &amp; Spencer Bread Pudding:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Product will be hot after heating."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Hmm . . . .)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. On packaging for a Rowenta iron:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not iron clothes on body."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(But wouldn't this save even more time?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. On Boot's Children's Cough Medicine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;medication."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(We could do a lot to reduce the rate of construction accidents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if we could just get those 5-year-olds with head colds off those&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;forklifts.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. On Nytol Sleep Aid:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Warning: May cause drowsiness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(One would hope)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. On most brands of Christmas lights:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For indoor or outdoor use only."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(As opposed to underwater?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. On a Japanese food processor:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not to be used for the other use."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I gotta admit, I'm curious.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. On Sainsbury's peanuts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Warning: Contains nuts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(NEWS FLASH)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. On a child's Superman costume:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I don't blame the company, I blame parents for this one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. On a Swedish chain saw:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Was there a chance of this happening somewhere? . . . Good grief!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. On a bottle of Palmolive Dishwashing liquid:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not use on food."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Hey, Mom, we're out of syrup! It's OK, honey, just grab the Palmolive!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116328556795857560?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116328556795857560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116328556795857560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328556795857560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328556795857560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/11/consumer-labels.html' title='Consumer Labels'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116328479535654685</id><published>2006-11-11T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:41:50.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I do dog tricks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.idodogtricks.com/index_flash.html"&gt;Cute Little Doggie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type in commands like....roll over...beg...play dead...kiss....dance, jump, bark, lie down, etc....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116328479535654685?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116328479535654685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116328479535654685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328479535654685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328479535654685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-do-dog-tricks.html' title='I do dog tricks'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116328463251548922</id><published>2006-11-11T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:37:12.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Thoughts From Kids...</title><content type='html'>HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHOM TO MARRY? (Written by kids)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. -- Alan, age 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry.  God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. -- Kristen, age 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then. -- Camille, age 10&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids. -- Derrick, age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both don't want any more kids. -- Lori, age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. -- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. -- Martin, age 10&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns. -- Craig, age 9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they're rich. -- Pam, age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that. -- Curt, age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do. -- Howard, age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them. -- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there? -- Kelvin, age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And the #1 Favorite is........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck. -- Ricky, age 10&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116328463251548922?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116328463251548922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116328463251548922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328463251548922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116328463251548922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/11/more-thoughts-from-kids.html' title='More Thoughts From Kids...'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116209597460915006</id><published>2006-10-28T22:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:39:15.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gorilla Removers</title><content type='html'>A man wakes up one morning and there's a gorilla on his roof. So he looks in the yellow pages and sure enough, there's an ad for "Gorilla Removers." He calls the number, and the gorilla remover says he'll be over in 30 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gorilla remover arrives, and gets out of his van. He's got a ladder, a baseball bat, a shotgun and a mean old pit bull. "What are you going to do," the homeowner asks? "I'm going to put this ladder up against the roof, and then I'm going to go up there and knock the gorilla off the roof with this baseball bat. When the gorilla falls off, the pit bull is trained to grab his nuts and not let go. The gorilla will then be subdued enough for me to put him in the cage in the back of the van." He hands the shotgun to the homeowner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the shotgun for?" asks the homeowner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If the gorilla knocks ME off the roof, shoot the dog!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116209597460915006?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116209597460915006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116209597460915006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116209597460915006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116209597460915006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/10/gorilla-removers.html' title='Gorilla Removers'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116209536908915815</id><published>2006-10-28T22:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T20:57:06.633-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HOW DOGS CAME TO BE</title><content type='html'>A newly discovered chapter in the Book of Genesis has provided the answer to "Where do pets come from?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam and Eve said, "Lord, when we were in the garden, you walked with us every day. Now we do not see you any more. We are lonesome here, and it is difficult for us to remember how much you love us"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God said, I will create a companion for you that will be with you and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourselves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam and Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was a good animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God was pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and Eve and he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God said, " I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG." And Dog lived with Adam and Eve and was a companion to them and loved them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they were comforted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God was pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Dog was content and wagged his tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, it came to pass that an angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam and Eve have become filled with pride. They strut and preen like peacocks and they believe they are worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught them that they are loved, but perhaps too well."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God said, I will create for them a companion who will be with them and who will see them as they are. The companion will remind them of their limitations, so they will know that they are not always worthy of adoration."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam and Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Cat would not obey them. And when Adam and Eve gazed into Cat's eyes, they were reminded that they were not the supreme beings. And Adam and Eve learned humility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they were greatly improved.&lt;br /&gt;And God was pleased&lt;br /&gt;And Dog was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Cat didn't give a shit one way or the other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116209536908915815?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116209536908915815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116209536908915815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116209536908915815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116209536908915815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/10/how-dogs-came-to-be.html' title='HOW DOGS CAME TO BE'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116166074996446888</id><published>2006-10-23T21:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T21:35:36.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A man and a woman were sitting beside each other in the first class section of an airplane. The woman sneezed, took out a tissue, gently wiped her nose, then visibly shuddered for ten to fifteen seconds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man went back to his reading. A few minutes later, the woman sneezed again, took a tissue, wiped her nose, then shuddered violently once more. Assuming that the woman might have a cold, the man was still curious about the shuddering. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few more minutes passed when the woman sneezed yet again. As before she took a tissue, wiped her nose, her body shaking ever more than before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unable to restrain his curiosity, the man turned to the woman and said, "I couldn't help but notice that you've sneezed three times, wiped your nose and then shuddered violently. Are you ok?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am sorry if I disturbed you, I have a very rare medical condition; whenever I sneeze I have an orgasm." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man, more than a bit embarrassed, was still curious. " I have never heard of that condition before" he said. "Are you taking anything for it?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman nodded, "Pepper."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116166074996446888?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116166074996446888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116166074996446888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116166074996446888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116166074996446888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-and-woman-were-sitting-beside-each.html' title=''/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116166040254781743</id><published>2006-10-23T21:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T21:34:11.580-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ways to Maintain a Healthy Level of Sanity</title><content type='html'>1. At lunchtime, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hairdryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Page yourself over the intercom. DON'T disguise your voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Everytime someone asks you to do something ask, "Do you want fries with that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Put Decaf in the coffee maker for 3weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their Caffeine addictions, switch to Espresso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. In the Memo field of all your checks write, "For Sexual Favors."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Finish all your sentences with, "In accordance with the Prophecy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. don't use any punctuation or capital letters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. As often as possible, Skip rather than walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Ask people what sex they are. Laugh hysterically after they answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Specify that your drive-through order is "To-Go".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Sing along at the opera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Go to a poetry recital, and ask why the poems don't rhyme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because "You're not in the mood."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. have your co-workers address you by your wrestling name, like, "Rock Hard".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. When money comes out of the ATM scream, "I WON! I WON!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. when leaving the Zoo, start running for the parking lot yelling, "Run for your lives, THEY'RE LOOSE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, We are going to have to let one of you go."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116166040254781743?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116166040254781743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116166040254781743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116166040254781743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116166040254781743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/10/ways-to-maintain-healthy-level-of.html' title='Ways to Maintain a Healthy Level of Sanity'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-116165990665915174</id><published>2006-10-23T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T21:21:39.393-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking outside the box</title><content type='html'>A wealthy old lady decides to go on a photo safari in Africa, taking her faithful aged poodle named Cuddles, along for the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day the poodle starts chasing butterflies and before long, Cuddles discovers that he's lost.. Wandering about, he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of having lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old poodle thinks, "Oh, oh! I'm in deep doo-doo now!" Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap the old poodle exclaims loudly, "Boy, that was one delicious leopard! I wonder if there are any more around here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing this, the young leopard halts his attack in mid-strike, a look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. "Whew!", says the leopard, "That was close! That old poodle nearly had me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the leopard. So off he goes, but the old poodle sees him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figures that something must be up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young leopard is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here, monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the old poodle sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?", but instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn't seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old poodle says,  "Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another leopard!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of this story....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't mess with old farts... age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bullshit and brilliance only come with age and experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-116165990665915174?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/116165990665915174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=116165990665915174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116165990665915174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/116165990665915174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/10/thinking-outside-box.html' title='Thinking outside the box'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-115847215161250872</id><published>2006-09-16T23:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T23:54:05.363-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The History Of The Middle Finger</title><content type='html'>Well, now......here's something I never knew before, and now that I know it, I     feel compelled to send it on to my more intelligent friends in the hope that they, too, will feel edified. Isn't history more fun when you know something about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating victory over the     English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of all captured English soldiers.     Without the middle finger it would be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and therefore they would be incapable of fighting in the future. This famous English longbow was made of the native English Yew tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as "plucking the yew" (or "pluck yew") &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major upset and began     mocking the French by waving their middle fingers at the defeated French,     saying, "See, we can still pluck yew!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since 'pluck yew' is rather difficult to say, the difficult consonant cluster at     the beginning has gradually changed to a labiodentals fricative F', and thus the words often used in conjunction with the one-finger-salute! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is also because of the pheasant feathers on the arrows used with the longbow that the symbolic gesture is known as "giving the bird."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yew thought yew knew every plucking thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-115847215161250872?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/115847215161250872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=115847215161250872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/115847215161250872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/115847215161250872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/09/history-of-middle-finger.html' title='The History Of The Middle Finger'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-115570126000625594</id><published>2006-08-15T22:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T22:08:37.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MANAGEMENT</title><content type='html'>An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand pulling a male buffalo with the other. He says to the waiter, "Want coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter says, "Sure chief, coming right up." He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee. The Indian drinks the coffee down in one gulp, turns and blasts the buffalo with the shotgun, causing parts of the animal to splatter every where, then just walks out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning the Indian returns. He has his shotgun in one hand pulling another male buffalo with the other. He walks up to the counter and says to the waiter, "Want coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter says, "Whoa, Tonto! We're still cleaning up your mess  from yesterday. What was all that about, anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian smiles and proudly says, "Training for upper management position: Come in, drink coffee, shoot the bull, leave mess for others to clean up, disappear for rest of day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-115570126000625594?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/115570126000625594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=115570126000625594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/115570126000625594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/115570126000625594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/08/management.html' title='MANAGEMENT'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114694225823945123</id><published>2006-05-06T13:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T13:14:26.090-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fairy Tale Rewritten by a Woman</title><content type='html'>Once  upon a time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                         ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                    in  a land far away,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                          ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                   a  beautiful, independent,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                       self-assured  princess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                happened  upon a frog as she sat,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             contemplating  ecological issues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             on  the shores of an unpolluted pond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             in a verdant meadow near her castle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           The  frog hopped into the princess' lap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                   and  said: Elegant Lady,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              I  was once a handsome prince,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           until an evil witch cast a spell upon me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                   One  kiss from you, however,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                   and  I will turn back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           into  the dapper, young prince that I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                               and  then, my sweet, we can marry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             and  set up housekeeping in your castle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                       with  my mother,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 where  you can prepare my meals,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              clean  my clothes, bear my children,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                        and forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             feel grateful and happy doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                           That  night,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             as  the princess dined sumptuously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                          ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 on  lightly sautéed frog legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  seasoned  in a white wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              ~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  and  onion cream sauce,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                          she  chuckled and thought to herself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                          ~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  I don’t fucking think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114694225823945123?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114694225823945123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114694225823945123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694225823945123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694225823945123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/05/fairy-tale-rewritten-by-woman.html' title='A Fairy Tale Rewritten by a Woman'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114694125862789090</id><published>2006-05-06T12:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T12:49:39.073-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Grocery Store Wars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.storewars.org/flash/index.html"&gt;May the Farm be with you!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114694125862789090?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114694125862789090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114694125862789090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694125862789090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694125862789090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/05/grocery-store-wars.html' title='Grocery Store Wars'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114694118992787813</id><published>2006-05-06T12:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T12:46:29.930-06:00</updated><title type='text'>SO YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?</title><content type='html'>"Stewardesses" is the longest word typed with only the left hand and "lollipop" with your right. (Bet you tried this out mentally, didn't you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maine is the only state whose name is just one syllable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt".(Are you doubting this?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sentence: "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" uses every letter of the alphabet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words 'racecar,' 'kayak' and 'level' are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are only four words in the English language which end in "dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous (You're not doubting this, are you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: "abstemious" and "facetious."! (Yes, admit it, you are going to say ...... a e i o u)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All 50 states are listed across the top of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the $5 bill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A crocodile cannot stick out its tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dragonfly has a life span of 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A "jiffy" is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A snail can sleep for three years. (I know some people that could do this too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almonds are a member of the peach family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babies are born without kneecaps. They don't appear until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butterflies taste with their feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds. Dogs only have about 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to have a full moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the population of China walked past you, in single file, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are an average American, in your whole life, you will spend an average of 6 months waiting at red lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Canadian two dollar bill, the flag flying over the Parliament building is an American flag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanuts are one of the ingredients of dynamite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average person's left hand does 56% of the typing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cruise liner, QE2, moves only six inches for each gallon of diesel that it burns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winter of 1932 was so cold that Niagara Falls froze completely solid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more chickens than people in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no Betty Rubble in the Flintstones Chewables Vitamins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tigers have striped skin, not just striped fur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women blink nearly twice as much as men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every two weeks; otherwise it will digest itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know everything!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114694118992787813?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114694118992787813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114694118992787813' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694118992787813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694118992787813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/05/so-you-think-you-know-everything.html' title='SO YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114694059724173968</id><published>2006-05-06T12:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T12:36:37.243-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Five tips for a woman</title><content type='html'>1. It is important that a man helps you around the house and has a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. It is important that a man makes you laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. It is important to find a man you can count on and doesn't lie to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. It is important that a man loves you and spoils you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. It is important that these four men don't know each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114694059724173968?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114694059724173968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114694059724173968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694059724173968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694059724173968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/05/five-tips-for-woman.html' title='Five tips for a woman'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114694053539032640</id><published>2006-05-06T12:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T12:35:35.406-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Cannibals</title><content type='html'>A large corporation recently hired several cannibals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are all part of our team now", said the HR rep during the welcoming briefing. "You get all the usual benefits and you can go to the cafeteria for something to eat, but please don't eat any of our employees".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cannibals promised they would not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four weeks later the HR rep called them together and remarked, "You're all working very hard and we're satisfied with your work. However, one of our secretaries has disappeared.  Do any of you know what happened to her"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cannibals all shook their heads "No".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the HR rep had left the room, the leader of the cannibals said to the others, "Which one of you idiots ate the secretary?" A hand rose hesitantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You fool!" the leader continued. "For four weeks we've been eating managers! And no one noticed anything. But NOOOooo, you had to go and eat someone who actually does something."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114694053539032640?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114694053539032640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114694053539032640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694053539032640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114694053539032640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/05/four-cannibals.html' title='Four Cannibals'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114643023796696181</id><published>2006-04-30T15:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T15:15:16.236-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rockin' Weather</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/1600/image007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/400/image007.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114643023796696181?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114643023796696181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114643023796696181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114643023796696181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114643023796696181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/04/rockin-weather.html' title='Rockin&apos; Weather'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114643084016794103</id><published>2006-04-30T14:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T15:00:40.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lizard Birthing Story</title><content type='html'>If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the petsyndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.  Here's what happened:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired.  (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me.  (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.   "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH, Gross!" they shrieked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, isn't THAT just Great! What are we going to do with a  litter of  tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked  like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, okay. " Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma."  (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.  "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor.  In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back."  He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying,  Mr. Cameron."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were silent, absorbing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So Ernie's just...just...Excited," my wife offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears were now running down her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's enough," I warned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 - lizards - $140...&lt;br /&gt;1 - Cage - $50...&lt;br /&gt;Trip to the Vet - $30...&lt;br /&gt;Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker... Priceless !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114643084016794103?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114643084016794103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114643084016794103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114643084016794103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114643084016794103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/04/lizard-birthing-story.html' title='Lizard Birthing Story'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114642990675684449</id><published>2006-04-30T14:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T14:47:05.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Geologist Humor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.geoscience.org.za/economic/humor.htm"&gt;Rocks rock!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114642990675684449?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114642990675684449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114642990675684449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114642990675684449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114642990675684449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/04/geologist-humor.html' title='Geologist Humor'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-114642979329686855</id><published>2006-04-30T14:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T14:43:13.313-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenging Quiz</title><content type='html'>Passing requires only 4 correct answers....a measly 40%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) How long did the Hundred Years War last?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Which country makes Panama hats?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) From which animal do we get catgut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) What is a camel's hair brush made of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific is named after what animal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) What was King George VI's first name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) What color is a purple finch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All done? Check your answers below! Scroll Down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWERS TO THE QUIZ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) How long did the Hundred Years War last?        &lt;br /&gt;116 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Which country makes Panama hats?         &lt;br /&gt;Ecuador&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) From which animal do we get catgut?         &lt;br /&gt;Sheep and Horses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?     &lt;br /&gt;November&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) What is a camel's hair brush made of?       &lt;br /&gt;Squirrel fur&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific is named after what animal?       &lt;br /&gt;Dogs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) What was King George VI's first name?       &lt;br /&gt;Albert&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) What color is a purple finch?        &lt;br /&gt;Crimson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?        &lt;br /&gt;New Zealand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?     &lt;br /&gt;Orange, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you mean you failed???????   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pass this on to all of your "brilliant" friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-114642979329686855?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/114642979329686855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=114642979329686855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114642979329686855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/114642979329686855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2006/04/challenging-quiz.html' title='Challenging Quiz'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113225812548747926</id><published>2005-11-17T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T13:08:45.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fireman's Revenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/1600/Fireman%27s%20Revenge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/400/Fireman%27s%20Revenge.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113225812548747926?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113225812548747926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113225812548747926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225812548747926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225812548747926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/firemans-revenge.html' title='Fireman&apos;s Revenge'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113225646498094802</id><published>2005-11-17T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T12:41:04.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pack of Dogs Kill Crocodile in FL</title><content type='html'>Careful, this is graphic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/1600/croc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/400/croc.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113225646498094802?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113225646498094802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113225646498094802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225646498094802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225646498094802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/pack-of-dogs-kill-crocodile-in-fl.html' title='Pack of Dogs Kill Crocodile in FL'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113225464854865642</id><published>2005-11-17T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T12:10:48.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkeys learn, too!</title><content type='html'>A man walks into a bar with his pet monkey. He orders a drink and  while he's drinking, the monkey jumps all around the place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monkey grabs some olives off the bar and eats them, then grabs  some sliced limes and eats them, then jumps onto the pool table, grabs one  of the billiard balls, sticks it in his mouth, and to everyone's  amazement,somehow he swallows it whole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender screams at the guy, "Did you see what your monkey just did?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy says "No, what?" "He just ate the cue ball off my pool table whole!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," replied the guy, "he eats everything in sight, the little pig. Sorry. I'll pay for the cue ball and stuff." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finishes his drink, pays his bill, pays for the stuff the monkey  ate, then leaves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later he's in the bar again, and has his monkey with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He orders a drink and the monkey starts running around the bar again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the man is finishing his drink, the monkey finds a maraschino cherry on the bar. He grabs it, sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the monkey finds a peanut, and again sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender is disgusted. "Did you see what your monkey did now? he asks.  "No, what?" replies the guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, he stuck a maraschino cherry and a peanut up his butt, pulled them out, and ate them!" said the bartender. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," replied the guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He still eats everything in sight, but ever since he had to pass that cue ball, he measures everything first."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113225464854865642?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113225464854865642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113225464854865642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225464854865642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113225464854865642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/monkeys-learn-too.html' title='Monkeys learn, too!'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113129582594657167</id><published>2005-11-06T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-06T09:50:25.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gonna be a Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/1600/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/474/631/320/image001.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113129582594657167?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113129582594657167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113129582594657167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129582594657167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129582594657167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/gonna-be-bear.html' title='Gonna be a Bear'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113129387145486206</id><published>2005-11-06T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-06T09:17:51.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Couple</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flashfunpages.com/couple.swf"&gt;http://www.flashfunpages.com/couple.swf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113129387145486206?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113129387145486206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113129387145486206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129387145486206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129387145486206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/perfect-couple.html' title='Perfect Couple'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-113129330807769088</id><published>2005-11-06T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T13:00:49.356-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Computers</title><content type='html'>I've often been asked if you should leave your computer turned on during &lt;br /&gt;the night. I now have the answer as to what happens to your computer &lt;br /&gt;while it is unattended during the night while you sleep. &lt;br /&gt;Click &lt;a href="http://www.justracin.net/is.swf"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-113129330807769088?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/113129330807769088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=113129330807769088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129330807769088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/113129330807769088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/11/computers.html' title='Computers'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-112856883764399390</id><published>2005-10-05T21:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T21:20:37.653-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Raising Boys - 24 key points to ponder</title><content type='html'>The following came from an anonymous Mother in Austin, Texas...&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Things I've learned from my Boys (honest and not kidding):&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;2. If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;3. A 3-year old Boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound Boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 x 20 ft. room.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh", it's already too late.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;9. A six-year old Boy can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;10. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old Boy.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;11. Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;12. Super glue is forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;15. VCR's do not eject "PB &amp;J" sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;18. You probably DO NOT want to know what that odor is.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5-minute response time.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;22. It will, however, make cats dizzy.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. 80% of Men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Those who pass this on to almost all of their friends, with or without boys do it because:&lt;br /&gt;a) For those with no children - this is totally hysterical!&lt;br /&gt;b) For those who already have children past this age, this is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;c) For those who have children this age, this is not funny.&lt;br /&gt;d) For those who have children nearing this age, this is a warning.&lt;br /&gt;e) For those who have not yet had children, this is birth control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-112856883764399390?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/112856883764399390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=112856883764399390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112856883764399390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112856883764399390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/10/raising-boys-24-key-points-to-ponder.html' title='Raising Boys - 24 key points to ponder'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-112543439710180652</id><published>2005-08-30T14:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T14:39:57.103-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and Like to Complain About Our Pets:</title><content type='html'>1.  They live here.  You don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (Hellllooooo ...........That's why they call it "fur"niture.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I like my pets a lot better than I like most people. To you, it's an animal. To us, they are an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy,  walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Dogs and cats are better than kids ... They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug-using friends, don't smoke or drink, don't worry about having to buy the latest  fashions, don't wear your clothes, and don't need a gazillion dollars for college  --  and if they get pregnant, you can sell their children!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-112543439710180652?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/112543439710180652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=112543439710180652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112543439710180652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112543439710180652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/08/rules-for-non-pet-owners-who-visit-and.html' title='Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and Like to Complain About Our Pets:'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-112543428564017146</id><published>2005-08-30T14:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T14:38:05.646-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to our pets</title><content type='html'>Dear Dogs and Cats,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food.  The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note:  placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a race-track. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort.  Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, and try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered.  Also, I have been using the bathroom for years...canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The proper order in this household is: Kiss me, before licking yourself and then go smell the other dog or cat's butt.  I cannot stress this enough!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-112543428564017146?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/112543428564017146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=112543428564017146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112543428564017146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112543428564017146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/08/letter-to-our-pets.html' title='Letter to our pets'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-112308374784751170</id><published>2005-08-03T09:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T09:42:27.853-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Toilet Cleaning Instructions</title><content type='html'>1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and rinse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he wil dry himself off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;The Dog&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-112308374784751170?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/112308374784751170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=112308374784751170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112308374784751170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112308374784751170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/08/toilet-cleaning-instructions.html' title='Toilet Cleaning Instructions'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-112111950631141335</id><published>2005-07-11T16:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T16:05:06.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Serial Killer Quiz</title><content type='html'>Read this question, come up with an answer and then scroll down to the bottom for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads. No one has gotten it right-including me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met this guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy she believed him to be just that! She fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: What is her motive in killing her sister? Give this some thought before you answer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;scroll down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;scroll down some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back up and re-read the scenario carefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: She was hoping that the guy would appear at the funeral again. If you answered this correctly, you think like a psychopath. This was a test by a famous American Psychologist used to test if one has the same mentality as a killer. Many arrested serial killers took part in the test and answered the question correctly. If you didn't answer the question correctly good for you. If you got the answer correct, please let me know so I can take you off of my email list unless that will tick you off, then I'll just be extra nice to you from now on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/hoaxes/sister.htm"&gt;Check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-112111950631141335?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/112111950631141335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=112111950631141335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112111950631141335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/112111950631141335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/07/serial-killer-quiz.html' title='Serial Killer Quiz'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111988420772309652</id><published>2005-06-27T08:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T08:56:47.730-06:00</updated><title type='text'>CIA JOB OPENING</title><content type='html'>The CIA had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done, there were 3 finalists... 2 men and a woman. For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.  "We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances. Inside this room, you will find your wife sitting in a chair. "Kill her!!!" The man said, "You can't be serious. I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes. Then the man came out with tears in his eyes. "I tried, but I can't kill my wife." The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one shot after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman.  She wiped the sweat from her brow. "This gun is loaded with blanks", she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral: Never put a woman to the test.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111988420772309652?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111988420772309652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111988420772309652' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111988420772309652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111988420772309652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/06/cia-job-opening.html' title='CIA JOB OPENING'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111832991970541848</id><published>2005-06-09T09:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T09:11:59.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Shower</title><content type='html'>HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A WOMAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Take off the fourteen layers of clothing you put on this morningbecause there was a distinct chill in the air due to the temperaturedropping below 73 degrees. Carefully fold and place in clothes hamper.&lt;br /&gt;2. Walk to bathroom.  If you see your husband along the way, cover up any exposed flesh immediately.&lt;br /&gt;3. Look at your womanly physique in the mirror and stick out your gut so that you can complain and whine even more about how you're getting fat.&lt;br /&gt;4. Position the shower nozzle away from you and turn on water.&lt;br /&gt;5. Get in the shower once you have found it through all that steam.&lt;br /&gt;6. Look for facecloth, armcloth, legcloth, long loofah, wide loofah andpumice stone.&lt;br /&gt;7. Wash your hair once with Cucumber and Lamfrey shampoo with 83 added vitamins.&lt;br /&gt;8. Wash your hair again with Cucumber and Lamfrey shampoo with 83 added vitamins.&lt;br /&gt;9. Condition your hair with Cucumber and Lamfrey conditioner enhanced with natural crocus oil.  Leave on hair for fifteen minutes.&lt;br /&gt;10. Watch fallen hair accumulate on drain &amp; feet.&lt;br /&gt;11. Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub until red.&lt;br /&gt;12. Wash entire rest of body with Ginger Nut and Jaffa Cake body wash.&lt;br /&gt;13. Complain bitterly when you realize that your husband has once againbeen eating your Ginger Nut and Jaffa Cake body wash.&lt;br /&gt;14. Rinse conditioner off hair (this takes at least fifteen minutes asyou must make sure that it has all come off).&lt;br /&gt;15. Shave armpits and evaluate if there is time left for legs.&lt;br /&gt;16. Slick hair back and pretend you're like Bo Derek in 10.&lt;br /&gt;17. Use pumice stone to soften rough spots on feet.&lt;br /&gt;18. Use massage mitt to reduce cellulite on thighs.&lt;br /&gt;19. Use nail brush to clean toenails.&lt;br /&gt;20. Scream loudly when your husband runs faucet and you get a rush of cold water.&lt;br /&gt;21. Cover your entire body in baby oil.&lt;br /&gt;22. Turn hot water on full and rinse off, making shower dangerouslyslippery for husband.&lt;br /&gt;23. Dry with a towel the size of a small African country.&lt;br /&gt;24. Check entire body for the remotest sign of a spot, or new hair in an uncommon place.&lt;br /&gt;25. Apply body lotion from the neck down. Moisturize!  Moisturize!&lt;br /&gt;26. Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.  If you see your husband along the way, cover up any exposed flesh immediately, and then rush to bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A MAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Walk to bathroom wearing a towel. If you see your wife along the way, flash her.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Look at your manly physique in the mirror and suck in your gut to see if  you have pecs.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Turn on the water, get jet blast in ear.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Check for pecs again.&lt;br /&gt;6.  Get in the shower.&lt;br /&gt;7.  Don't bother to look for a washcloth.&lt;br /&gt;8.  Wash your face (not compulsory).&lt;br /&gt;9.  Whistle a few bars of the Irish Spring song.&lt;br /&gt;10. Wash your armpits (not compulsory).&lt;br /&gt;11. Wash your groin area.&lt;br /&gt;12. Wash your behind.&lt;br /&gt;13. Cough up anything that might be lodged in the back of your throat.&lt;br /&gt;14. Shampoo your hair with a bar of soap.  (No need for conditioner.)&lt;br /&gt;15. Make a shampoo (soap) Mohawk.&lt;br /&gt;16. Open the door and look at yourself in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;17. Sample your wife's Ginger Nut and Jaffa Cake body wash.&lt;br /&gt;18. Pee (watch the yellow swirl around a little, of course)&lt;br /&gt;19. Blow your right nostril.&lt;br /&gt;20. Blow your left nostril.&lt;br /&gt;21. Rinse off and get out of the shower.&lt;br /&gt;22. Return to the bedroom wearing a towel, if you pass your wife, flash her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111832991970541848?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111832991970541848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111832991970541848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111832991970541848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111832991970541848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/06/how-to-shower.html' title='How to Shower'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111660050405901487</id><published>2005-05-20T08:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-11T19:09:02.496-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Good Advice</title><content type='html'>A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...&lt;br /&gt;.one old love she can imagine going back to..&lt;br /&gt;and one who reminds her how far she has come...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;..enough money within her&lt;br /&gt;control to move out and&lt;br /&gt;rent a place of her own&lt;br /&gt;even if she never wants to or needs to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;..something perfect to wear if&lt;br /&gt;the employer or date of her dreams&lt;br /&gt;wants to see her in an hour...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;..a youth she's content to leave behind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;...a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...a set of screwdrivers, cordless drill, and a black lace bra...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;.one friend who always makes her laugh...&lt;br /&gt;and one who lets her cry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;..a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;..eight matching plates,&lt;br /&gt;wine glasses with stems,&lt;br /&gt;and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honoured..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE&lt;br /&gt;...a feeling of control over her destiny...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW.&lt;br /&gt;..how to fall in love without losing herself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;..how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship... and how to change a tire!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...when to try harder...&lt;br /&gt;and when to walk away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...that she can't change the length of her calves,&lt;br /&gt;the width of her hips,&lt;br /&gt;or the nature of her parents...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...that her childhood may not have been perfect...but its over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;..how to live alone...&lt;br /&gt;even if she doesn't like it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...whom she can trust,&lt;br /&gt;whom she can't,&lt;br /&gt;and why she shouldn't take it personally...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;...where to go...&lt;br /&gt;be it to her best friend's kitchen table..&lt;br /&gt;or a charming inn in the woods...&lt;br /&gt;when her soul needs soothing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...&lt;br /&gt;what she can and can't accomplish in a day.. a month...and a year...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111660050405901487?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111660050405901487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111660050405901487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111660050405901487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111660050405901487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/05/some-good-advice.html' title='Some Good Advice'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111548597923663320</id><published>2005-05-07T11:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-07T11:12:59.243-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlanta Journal Personal Ad</title><content type='html'>SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good-looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work; wearing only what nature gave me.  Kiss me and I'm yours.  Call (404)875-6420 and ask for Daisy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over 15,000 men called and found themselves talking to the Atlanta Humane Society about an 8-week-old black Labrador Retriever.  Men are so easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111548597923663320?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111548597923663320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111548597923663320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111548597923663320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111548597923663320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/05/atlanta-journal-personal-ad.html' title='Atlanta Journal Personal Ad'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111332435909688218</id><published>2005-04-12T10:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T10:45:59.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>GREAT QUOTES BY GREAT LADIES</title><content type='html'>Inside every older lady is a younger lady -- wondering what the hell happened? &lt;br /&gt;-Cora Harvey Armstrong- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut her up with cookies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest years in life are those between ten and seventy. &lt;br /&gt;-Helen Hayes (at 73)- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows. &lt;br /&gt;-Janette Barber- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.  &lt;br /&gt;-Lily Tomlin- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A male gynecologist is like an auto mechanic who never owned a car. &lt;br /&gt;-Carrie Snow- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry with your girlfriends. &lt;br /&gt;-Laurie Kuslansky- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being, hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. &lt;br /&gt;-Erma Bombeck- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old age ain't no place for sissies. &lt;br /&gt;-Bette Davis- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man's got to do what a man's got to do. A woman must do what he can't. &lt;br /&gt;-Rhonda Hansome- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The phrase "working mother" is redundant. &lt;br /&gt;-Jane Sellman- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I close the door on reality, it comes in through the windows. &lt;br /&gt;-Jennifer Unlimited- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever women must do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult. &lt;br /&gt;-Charlotte Whitton- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart. &lt;br /&gt;-Caryn Leschen- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to take one day at a time -- but sometimes several days attack me at once. &lt;br /&gt;-Jennifer Unlimited- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't be a good example -- then you'll just have to be a horrible warning. &lt;br /&gt;-Catherine- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was young, I was put in a school for retarded kids for two years before they realized I actually had a hearing loss. And they called ME slow! &lt;br /&gt;-Kathy Buckley- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb -- and I'm also not blonde. &lt;br /&gt;-Dolly Parton- &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If high heels were so wonderful, men would still be wearing them. &lt;br /&gt;-Sue Grafton- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to vacuum 'til Sears makes one you can ride on. &lt;br /&gt;-Roseanne Barr- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;When women are depressed they either eat or go shopping. Men invade another country.. &lt;br /&gt;-Elayne Boosler- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Behind every successful man is a surprised woman. &lt;br /&gt;-Maryon Pearson- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman. &lt;br /&gt;-Margaret Thatcher- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career. &lt;br /&gt;-Gloria Steinem- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man, I keep his house. &lt;br /&gt;-Zsa Zsa Gabor- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission. &lt;br /&gt;-Eleanor Roosevelt-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111332435909688218?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111332435909688218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111332435909688218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111332435909688218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111332435909688218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/04/great-quotes-by-great-ladies.html' title='GREAT QUOTES BY GREAT LADIES'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111332002908637886</id><published>2005-04-12T09:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T09:33:49.086-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Eve's Little Secret</title><content type='html'>“Lord, I have a problem." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the problem, Eve?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know that you created me and provided this beautiful garden and all of these wonderful animals, as well as that hilarious comedic snake, but I'm just not happy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And why is that Eve?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord, I am lonely, and I'm sick to death of apples." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Eve, in that case, I have a solution. I shall create a man for you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Man? What is that Lord?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A flawed creature, with many bad traits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll lie, cheat and be vain; all in all, he'll give you a hard time. But he'll be bigger, faster and will like to hunt and kill things. He will look silly when he is aroused, but since you've been complaining, I'll create him in such a way that he will satisfy your physical needs. He will be witless and will revel in childish things like fighting and kicking a ball about. He won't be too smart, so he will also need your advice to think properly." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sounds great," says Eve, with ironically raised eyebrows, "but what's the catch Lord?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well.....you can have him on one condition." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what's that Lord?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As I said, he'll be proud, arrogant and self-admiring.....so you'll have to let him believe that I made him first. And it will have to be our little secret. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, woman to woman."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111332002908637886?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111332002908637886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111332002908637886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111332002908637886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111332002908637886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/04/eves-little-secret.html' title='Eve&apos;s Little Secret'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111179207201375708</id><published>2005-03-25T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-25T16:07:52.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Test for Dementia</title><content type='html'>Exercise of the brain is as important as exercise of the muscles. As we grow older, it's important that we keep mentally alert. The saying; "If you don't use it, you will lose it," also applies to the brain, so.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is a very private way to gauge your loss or non-loss of intelligence. Take the following test and determine if you are losing it or are still "with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, relax, clear your mind and.... begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What do you put in a toaster?&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: "bread." If you said "toast," then give up now and go do something else. Try not to hurt yourself.If you said, "bread," go to Question 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Say "silk" five times. Now spell "silk." What do cows drink?&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Cows drink water. If you said "milk," please do not attempt the next question. Your brain is obviously over stressed and may even overheat. It may be that you need to content yourself with reading something more appropriate, such as Children's World.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you said "water," proceed to question 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If a red house is made from red bricks, and a blue house is made from blue bricks, and a pink house is made from pink bricks and a black house is made from black bricks, what is a green house made from?&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Greenhouses are made from glass. If you said, "green bricks," what the devil are you still doing reading these questions?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you said "glass," then go on to Question 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Twenty years ago, a plane was flying at 20,000 feet over Germany. If you recall, Germany at the time was politically divided into West Germany and East Germany. Anyway, during the flight, TWO of the engines failed. The pilot, realizing that the last remaining engine is also failing, decides on a crash landing procedure..... Unfortunately the third engine fails before he has time to attempt an emergency landing, and the plane crashes smack in the middle of "no man's land" between East Germany and West Germany.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where would you bury the survivors?&lt;br /&gt;    . . . in East Germany or West Germany or in "no man's land"?&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;br /&gt;Answer: You don't, of course, bury survivors. If you said ANYTHING else, you are a real dunce and you must NEVER try to rescue anyone from a plane crash. Your efforts would not be appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you said, "Don't bury the survivors," proceed to the next question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If the hour hand on a clock moves 1/60 of a degree every minute how many degrees will the hour hand move in one hour?&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: One degree. If you said, "360 degrees" or anything other than "one degree," you are to be congratulated on getting this far, but you are obviously out of your league. Turn in your pencil, and exit the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else proceed to the final question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Without using a calculator --You are driving a bus from London to Milford Haven in Wales. In London, 17 people get on the bus. In Reading, six people get off the bus, and nine people get on. In Swindon, two people get off and four get on. In Cardiff, 11 people get off and 16 people get on. In Swansea, three people get off and five people get on. In Carmathen, six people get off and three get on. You then arrive at Milford Haven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the name of the bus driver?&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Oh, for crying out loud! Don't you remember? It was YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111179207201375708?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111179207201375708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111179207201375708' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179207201375708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179207201375708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/test-for-dementia.html' title='Test for Dementia'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111179090209711562</id><published>2005-03-25T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-25T15:48:22.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tomorrow is the official Slap Your Irritating Co-workers Holiday:</title><content type='html'>Do you have a co-worker who talks nonstop about nothing, working your last nerve with tedious and boring details that you don't give a damn about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a co-worker who ALWAYS screws up stuff creating MORE work for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a co-worker who kisses so much booty, you can look in their mouth and see what your boss had for lunch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a co-worker who is SOOO obnoxious, when he/she enters a room, everyone else clears it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, on behalf of Ike Turner, I am so very very glad to officially announce tomorrow as SLAP YOUR IRRITATING CO-WORKER DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the rules you must follow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* You can only slap one person per hour - no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* You can slap the same person again if they irritate you again in the same day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* You are allowed to hold someone down as other co-workers take their turns slapping the irritant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* No weapons are allowed...other than going upside somebody's head with a stapler or a hole-puncher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* CURSING IS MANDATORY! After you have slapped the recipient, your "assault" must be followed with something like "cause I'm sick of your stupid-@ss always messing up stuff!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If questioned by a supervisor [or police, if the supervisor is the irritant] you are allowed to LIE, LIE, LIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, study the rules, break out your list of folks that you want to slap the living day lights out of and get to slapping.....and have a great day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111179090209711562?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111179090209711562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111179090209711562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179090209711562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179090209711562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/tomorrow-is-official-slap-your.html' title='Tomorrow is the official Slap Your Irritating Co-workers Holiday:'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111179073567560462</id><published>2005-03-16T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-25T15:45:35.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A man walks into a...</title><content type='html'>A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him.  As he sits, the waitress comes over and asks for their orders.  The man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries and a coke," and turns to the ostrich, "What's yours?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll have the same," says the ostrich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time later the waitress returns with the order. "That will be $6.40 please," and the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries and a coke," and the ostrich says, "I'll have the same."  Once again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This becomes a routine until late one evening, the two enter again.  "The usual?" asks the waitress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato, and salad," says the man, "same for me," says the ostrich. A short time later the waitress comes with the order and says, "That will be $12.62."  Once again the man pulls exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress can't hold back her curiosity any longer. "Excuse me, sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket every time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the man, "several years ago I was cleaning the attic and I found an old lamp. When I rubbed it a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's brilliant!" says the waitress. "Most people would wish for a million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right. Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there," says the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress asks, "One other thing, sir, what's with the ostrich?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man sighs, pauses, and answers, "My second wish was for a tall chick with long legs who agrees with everything I say."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111179073567560462?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111179073567560462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111179073567560462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179073567560462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111179073567560462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/man-walks-into.html' title='A man walks into a...'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068963705748548</id><published>2005-03-12T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-27T12:34:17.680-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Young King Arthur</title><content type='html'>Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighbouring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him, but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So the monarch offered him freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer; if, after a year, he still had no answer, he would be honour bound to allow himself to be put to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question: What do women really want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and, to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princess, the priests, the wisemen, and the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old town hag - only she would know the answer. The price would be high; the old hag was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no alternative but to talk to the hag. She agreed to answer his question, but he'd have to accept her price first: The old hag wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young Arthur was horrified: She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises... etc. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature. He refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told him that nothing was too big a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, their wedding was proclaimed, and the old hag answered Arthur's question thus:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a woman really wants is to be in charge of her own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone instantly knew that the hag had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was. The neighbouring monarch granted Arthur total freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a wedding Gawain and the old hag had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old hag put her worst manners on display, and generally made everyone very uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The honeymoon hour approached. Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But what a sight awaited him! The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen stood before him! The astounded Gawain asked what had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she'd appeared as a hag, she would henceforth be her horrible, deformed self half the time, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self. Which would he want her to be during the day, and which during the night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a cruel question! Gawain pondered his predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his home, an old hag? Or, would he prefer having by day a hideous old hag, but by night a beautiful woman? What would you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What Gawain chose follows below, but don't read on until you've decided what you would have chosen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noble Gawain replied that he would let her choose for herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time, because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cynical might ask, What is the moral of this story?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral is: If a woman doesn't get her way, things are going to get ugly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068963705748548?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068963705748548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068963705748548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068963705748548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068963705748548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/young-king-arthur.html' title='Young King Arthur'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068909344571033</id><published>2005-03-12T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-24T15:51:01.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tandem Story</title><content type='html'>Remember "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"?&lt;br /&gt;Here's a prime example offered by an English professor at an American University.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re- read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking and anything you wish to say must be written on the paper. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The following was actually turned in by two English students: Rebecca - last name deleted, and Gary - last name deleted.)&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;STORY:&lt;br /&gt;(first paragraph by Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. Now she felt she must, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(second paragraph by Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;He bumped his head and died almost immediately but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Little did she know, but she had less than ten seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine HQ on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of FUCKING TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;Asshole.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Bitch.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;Wanker.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Slut.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Rebecca)&lt;br /&gt;FUCK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(Gary)&lt;br /&gt;Go drink some tea - whore.&lt;br /&gt;************************************************&lt;br /&gt;(Teacher)&lt;br /&gt;A+ - I really liked this one.&lt;br /&gt;************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068909344571033?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068909344571033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068909344571033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068909344571033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068909344571033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/tandem-story.html' title='Tandem Story'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068820569846899</id><published>2005-03-12T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T21:30:05.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jock vs. Nerd</title><content type='html'>The answer to the eternal question....."is it better to be a "Jock" or a "Nerd"?".....consider the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Jordan made over $300,000 a game. That equals $10,000 a minute, at an average of 30 minutes per game.  With $40 million in endorsements, he made $178,100 a day, working or not. If he sleeps 7 hours a night, he made $52,000 every night while visions of sugarplums danced in his head. If he went to see a movie, it cost him $7.00, but he made $18,550 while he was there. If he decided to have a 5-minute egg, he made $618 while it boiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made $7,415/hr more than minimum wage. He made $3,710 while he watched each episode of Friends. If someone were to hand him his salary and endorsement money, they would have had to do it at the rate of $2.00 every second. Assuming he put the federal maximum of 15% of his income into a tax deferred account(401k), he would hit the federal cap of $9500 at 8:30 a.m. on January 1st of each year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were given a penny for every 10 dollars he made, you'd be living comfortably at $65,000 a year. In his last year, he made more than twice as much as all U.S. past presidents for all of their terms combined...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, if Michael Jordan saves 100% of his income for the next 250 years, he'll still have less money than Bill Gates has today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Game over.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nerd wins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068820569846899?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068820569846899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068820569846899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068820569846899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068820569846899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/jock-vs-nerd.html' title='Jock vs. Nerd'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068780488491538</id><published>2005-03-12T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T21:23:24.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How a man chooses a wife</title><content type='html'>A man is dating three women and wants to decide which to marry. He decides to give them a test. He gives each woman a present of $5,000 and watches to see what they do with the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first does a total make over. She goes to a fancy beauty salon, gets her hair done, new make up and buys several new outfits and dresses up very nicely for the man. She tells him that she has done this to be more attractive for him because she loves him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man was impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second goes shopping to buy the man gifts. She gets him a new set of golf clubs, some new gizmos for his computer, and some expensive clothes. As she presents these gifts, she tells him that she has spent all the money on him because she loves him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the man is impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third invests the money in the stock market. She earns several times the $5,000. She gives him back his $5000 and reinvests the remainder in a joint account. She tells him that she wants to save for their future because she loves him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, the man was impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man thought for a long time about what each woman had done with the money he'd given her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, he married the one with the biggest tits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are like that, you know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068780488491538?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068780488491538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068780488491538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068780488491538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068780488491538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/how-man-chooses-wife.html' title='How a man chooses a wife'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068661448448132</id><published>2005-03-12T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T21:03:34.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taco Hell by Peter Leppik</title><content type='html'>The following is a true story. It amused the hell out of me while it was happening. I hope it isn't one of those "had to be there" things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home from the second job I've taken for the extra holiday cash I need, I stopped at Taco Bell for a quick bite to eat. In my billfold is a $50 bill and a $2 bill. That is all of the cash I have on my person. I figure that with a $2 bill, I can get something to eat and not have to worry about people getting pissed at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Hi, I'd like one seven layer burrito please, to go."&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Is that it?"&lt;br /&gt;ME     "Yep."&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "That'll be $1.04, eat here?"&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "No, it's to go." [I hate effort duplication.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At his point I open my billfold and hand him the $2 bill. He looks at it kind of funny and says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT:     "Uh, hang on a sec, I'll be right back."&lt;br /&gt;He goes to talk to his manager, who is still within earshot. The following conversation occurs between the two of them.&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Hey, you ever see a $2 bill?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:     "No. A what?"&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "A $2 bill. This guy just gave it to me."&lt;br /&gt;MG:     "Ask for something else, THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A $2 BILL."&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Yeah, thought so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He comes back to me and says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "We don't take these. Do you have anything else?"&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Just this fifty. You don't take $2 bills? Why?"&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;ME:     "See here where it says legal tender?"&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "So, shouldn't you take it?"&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Well, hang on a sec."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes back to his manager who is watching me like I'm going to shoplift, and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "He says I have to take it."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Doesn't he have anything else?"&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "Yeah, a fifty. I'll get it and you can open the safe and get change."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "I'M NOT OPENING THE SAFE WITH HIM IN HERE." [my emphasis]&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "What should I do?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Tell him to come back later when he has REAL money."&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "I can't tell him that, you tell him."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Just tell him."&lt;br /&gt;IT:      "No way, this is weird, I'm going in back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager approaches me and says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Sorry, we don't take big bills this time of night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[it was 8pm and this particular Taco Bell is in a well lighted indoor mall with 100 other stores.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Well, here's a two."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "We don't take those either."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Why the hell not?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "I think you know why."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "No really, tell me, why?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Please leave before I call mall security."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Excuse me?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Please leave before I call mall security."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "What the hell for?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Please, sir."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Uh, go ahead, call them."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Would you please just leave?"&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "No."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Fine, have it your way then."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "No, that's Burger King, isn't it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point he BACKS away from me and calls mall security on the phone around the corner. I have two people STARING at me from the dining area, and I begin laughing out loud, just for effect. A few minutes later this 45 year oldish guy comes in and says at the other end of counter, in a whisper:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Yeah, Mike, what's up?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "This guy is trying to give me some [pause] funny money."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Really? What?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Get this, a two dollar bill."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Why would a guy fake a $2 bill?" [incredulous]&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "I don't know? He's kinda weird. Says the only other thing he has is a fifty."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "So, the fifty's fake?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "No, the $2 is."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Why would he fake a $2 bill?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "I don't know. Can you talk to him, and get him out of here?"&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Yeah..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security guard walks over to me and says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Mike here tells me you have some fake bills you're trying to use."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Uh, no."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Lemme see 'em."&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Do you want me to get the cops in here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I was ready to say, "SURE, PLEASE," but I wanted to eat, so I said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME:      "I'm just trying to buy a burrito and pay for it with this $2 bill."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put the bill up near his face, and he flinches like I was taking a swing at him. He takes the bill, turns it over a few times in his hands, and says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Mike, what's wrong with this bill?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "It's fake."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "It doesn't look fake to me."&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "But it's a $2 bill."&lt;br /&gt;SG:      "Yeah?"&lt;br /&gt;MG:      "Well, there's no such thing, is there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The security guard and I both looked at him like he was an idiot, and it dawned on the guy that he had no clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My burrito was free and he threw in a small drink and those cinnamon things, too. Makes me want to get a whole stack of $2 bills just to see what happens when I try to buy stuff. If I got the right group of people, I could probably end up in jail. At least you get free food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068661448448132?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068661448448132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068661448448132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068661448448132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068661448448132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/taco-hell-by-peter-leppik.html' title='Taco Hell by Peter Leppik'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111068624236601049</id><published>2005-03-12T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T20:57:22.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*The Difference Between Men and Women*</title><content type='html'>Let's say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha.  He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time.  A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves.  They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, there is silence in the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence.  She thinks to herself:  I wonder if it bothers him that I said that.  Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Fred is thinking: Gosh.  Six months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either.  Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going?  Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy?  Are we heading toward marriage?  Toward children?  Toward a lifetime together?  Am I ready for that level of commitment?  Do I really even know this person?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa!  I am way overdue for an oil change here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Martha is thinking: He's upset.  I can see it on his face.  Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong.  Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some reservations.  Yes, I bet that's it.  That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings.  He's afraid of being rejected. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Fred is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again.  I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time.  What cold weather?  It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Martha is thinking: He's angry.  And I don't blame him.  I'd be angry, too.  I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel.  I'm just not sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me.  A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Fred is thinking: Warranty?  They want a warranty?  I'll give them a warranty.  I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fred," Martha says aloud. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" says Fred, startled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" says Fred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs.  "I mean, I know there's no knight.  I really know that.  It's silly.  There's no knight, and there's no horse." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's no horse?" says Fred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response.  Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," he says.   (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What way?" says Fred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That way about time," says Martha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," says Fred.  "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse.  At last she speaks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you, Fred," she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you," says Fred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of.  A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours.  In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the difference between men and women.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111068624236601049?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111068624236601049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111068624236601049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068624236601049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111068624236601049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/difference-between-men-and-women.html' title='*The Difference Between Men and Women*'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067871429290584</id><published>2005-03-12T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T18:51:54.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs of the (internet) Times</title><content type='html'>You try to enter your password on the microwave.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You now think of three espressos as "getting wasted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You haven't played solitaire with a real deck of cards in years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You e-mail your son in his room to tell him that dinner is ready, and he emails you back "What's for dinner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Your daughter sells Girl Scout Cookies via her web site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You chat several times a day with a stranger from South Africa, but you haven't spoken to your next door neighbor yet this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You didn't give your valentine a card this year, but you posted one for your email buddies via a Web page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Every commercial on television you watch has a website address at the bottom of the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You buy a computer and a week later it is out of date and now sells for half the price you paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The concept of using real money, instead of credit or debit, to make a purchase is foreign to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Your reason for not staying in touch with family is that they do not have e-mail addresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You consider 2nd day air delivery painfully slow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Your idea of being organized is multiple colored post-it notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You hear most of your jokes via email instead of in person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067871429290584?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067871429290584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067871429290584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067871429290584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067871429290584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/signs-of-internet-times.html' title='Signs of the (internet) Times'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067821163282045</id><published>2005-03-12T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T18:43:31.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>80's vs 90's</title><content type='html'>Top Ten reasons the 80's were a cooler time to grow up than the 90's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 10) MTV actually played videos in the 80's.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9)  There were only one kind of Nike tennis shoes(White with a red swoosh), and they didn't cost $125.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  8)  A comb in your back pocket is more practical and less painful than a ring through your nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  7)  In the 80's playing video games actually meant going out to DO something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  6)  In the 80's, when you were out partying, you didn't have to worry about your Mom calling you on your cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  5)  In the 80s we didn't have to worry about getting our heads blown off at school - unless you put a whole pack of Pop Rocks in your mouth and drank a coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  4)  Debbie Gibson vs. Britney Spears, New Kids on the Block vs. NSync, New Edition vs. Hanson. Ok, that one's a draw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  3)  In the early 80's there were kids in your high school who could BUY ALCOHOL LEGALLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  2)  Feathered hair was easier to care for than dreadlocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And the number one reason the 80's were a cooler time to grow up than the 90's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  1) In the 80's you didn't have to worry about your pants falling down all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067821163282045?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067821163282045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067821163282045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067821163282045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067821163282045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/80s-vs-90s.html' title='80&apos;s vs 90&apos;s'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067803164500985</id><published>2005-03-12T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T18:40:31.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 5 questions most feared by men are:</title><content type='html'>1. What are you thinking about?&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you love me?&lt;br /&gt;3. Do I look fat?&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you think she is prettier than me?&lt;br /&gt;5. What would you do if I died?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What makes these questions so difficult is that every one is guaranteed to explode into a major argument if the man answers incorrectly (i.e., tells the truth).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, as a public service, each question is analyzed below, along with possible responses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question # 1: What are you thinking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The proper answer to this, of course, is: "I'm sorry if I've been pensive, dear. I was just reflecting on what a warm, wonderful, thoughtful, caring, intelligent woman you are, and how lucky I am to have met you." This response obviously bears no resemblance to the true answer, which most likely is one of the following: a. Baseball. b. Football. c. How fat you are. d. How much prettier she is than you. e. How I would spend the insurance money if you died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Perhaps the best response to this question was offered by Al Bundy, who once told Peg, "If I wanted you to know what I was thinking, I would be talking to you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Question # 2: Do you love me? The proper response is: "YES!" or, if you feel a more detailed answer is in order, "Yes, dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Inappropriate responses include: a. Oh Yeah, shit-loads. b. Would it make you feel better if I said yes? c. That depends on what you mean by love. d. Does it matter? e. Who, me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Question # 3: Do I look fat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The correct answer is an emphatic: "Of course not!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Among the incorrect answers are: a. Compared to what? b. I wouldn't call you fat, but you're not exactly thin. c. A little extra weight looks good on you. d. I've seen fatter. e. Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Question # 4: Do you think she's prettier than me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Once again, the proper response is an emphatic: "Of course not!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Incorrect responses include: a. Yes, but you have a better personality b. Not prettier, but definitely thinner c. Not as pretty as you when you were her age d. Define pretty e. Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Question # 5: What would you do if I died?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  A definite no-win question. (The real answer, of course, is "Buy a Corvette and a Big Boat").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  No matter how you answer this, be prepared for at least an hour of follow-up questions, usually along these lines: WOMAN: "Would you get married again?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Definitely not!"&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "Why not, don't you like being married?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Of course I do."&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "Then why wouldn't you remarry?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Okay, I'd get married again."&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "You would?" (with a hurt look on her face)&lt;br /&gt;MAN: (makes audible groan )&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "Would you sleep with her in our bed?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Where else would we sleep?"&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "Would you put away my pictures, and replace them with pictures of her?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "That would seem like the proper thing to do."&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: "And would you let her use my golf clubs?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "She can't use them; she's left-handed."&lt;br /&gt;WOMAN: ....silence....&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Shit."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067803164500985?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067803164500985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067803164500985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067803164500985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067803164500985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/5-questions-most-feared-by-men-are.html' title='The 5 questions most feared by men are:'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067767250091767</id><published>2005-03-12T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T19:45:59.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sipping Vodka</title><content type='html'>A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done. The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip." So next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon his return to his office after mass, he found the following note on the door:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Sip the Vodka, don't gulp.&lt;br /&gt;2. There are 10 commandments, not 12.&lt;br /&gt;3. There are 12 disciples, not 10.&lt;br /&gt;4. Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.&lt;br /&gt;5. Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.&lt;br /&gt;6. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.&lt;br /&gt;7. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as daddy, junior and the spook.&lt;br /&gt;8. David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.&lt;br /&gt;9. When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.&lt;br /&gt;10. We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T".&lt;br /&gt;11. When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it for it is my body." He did not say "Eat me."&lt;br /&gt;12. The Virgin Mary is not called "Mary with the Cherry."&lt;br /&gt;13. The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, yeah God.&lt;br /&gt;14. Next Sunday there will be a taffy pulling contest at St. Peter's, not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067767250091767?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067767250091767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067767250091767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067767250091767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067767250091767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/sipping-vodka.html' title='Sipping Vodka'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067732222638879</id><published>2005-03-12T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T19:20:26.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions and Answers</title><content type='html'>These are things people actually said in court, word for word:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?&lt;br /&gt;A: Oral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What is your date of birth?&lt;br /&gt;A: July fifteenth.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What year?&lt;br /&gt;A: Every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?&lt;br /&gt;A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?&lt;br /&gt;A: I forget.&lt;br /&gt;Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something that you've forgotten?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How old is your son, the one living with you.&lt;br /&gt;A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How long has he lived with you?&lt;br /&gt;A: Forty-five years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that morning?&lt;br /&gt;A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"&lt;br /&gt;Q: And why did that upset you?&lt;br /&gt;A: My name is Susan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: And where was the location of the accident?&lt;br /&gt;A: Approximately milepost 499.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And where is milepost 499?&lt;br /&gt;A: Probably between milepost 498 and 500.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Sir, what is your IQ?&lt;br /&gt;A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you blow your horn or anything?&lt;br /&gt;A: After the accident?&lt;br /&gt;Q: Before the accident.&lt;br /&gt;A: Sure, I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the occult?&lt;br /&gt;A: We both do.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Voodoo?&lt;br /&gt;A: We do.&lt;br /&gt;Q: You do?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, voodoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Trooper, when you stopped the defendant, were your red and blue lights flashing?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did the defendant say anything when she got out of her car?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did she say?&lt;br /&gt;A: What disco am I at?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And what were you doing at that time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: She had three children, right?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How many were boys?&lt;br /&gt;A: None.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Were there any girls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: You say the stairs went down to the basement?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How was your first marriage terminated?&lt;br /&gt;A: By death.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And by whose death was it terminated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Can you describe the individual?&lt;br /&gt;A: He was about medium height and had a beard.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Was this a male, or a female?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?&lt;br /&gt;A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?&lt;br /&gt;A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?&lt;br /&gt;A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time&lt;br /&gt;A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you check for blood pressure?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you check for breathing?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?&lt;br /&gt;A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.&lt;br /&gt;Q: But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067732222638879?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067732222638879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067732222638879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067732222638879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067732222638879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/questions-and-answers.html' title='Questions and Answers'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067667086701283</id><published>2005-03-12T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T18:17:50.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love in the Eighties</title><content type='html'>I was working part time in a five and dime.  My boss was Mr. Magee. He was six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian, but I was happy to be stuck with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One manic Monday, while I was busy working for the weekend, I overheard him make a careless whisper.  He told two of my co-workers, Jack and Diane that I gave love a bad name.  Well, I got so emotional, baby.  I told him to say say say what he wants, but don't play games with my affection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He told me it was hard for him to say he's sorry and not to worry, to be happy.  Then he blamed it on the rain.  He was so out of touch.  It just took my breath away.  I couldn't fight this feeling any longer.  I asked him "What's love got to do with it?"  He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So I figured I might as well jump.  I cut footloose, went home and called my girl, Jenny.  (You already know the number.)  She was on the other line with Amanda.  They were talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That blew my mind!  Was she really going out with him? I told her that I had just called to say I love her.  She told me she had been saving all her love for me, but now she was looking for a new love - hasta la vista, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I thought "I can't go for that - no can do!  Bring me a higher love!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would want to get physical all night long (all night).  First I called Billie Jean - she told me to beat it.  I called Rosanna - her sister Christian blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me.  Come on, Eileen! ...no answer.  Nobody told me there'd be days like these!  I was feeling like the owner of a lonely heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Then, out of the blue, my best friend's girlfriend (she used to be mine) Roxanne calls.  Yes, the real Roxanne.  She told me she still hadn't found what she's looking for and that she wanted to take on me.  I said "I thought you were Jessie's girl."  She said "Don't you want me? You don't have to put on the red light - I'm on my own." What a feeling! I had the eye of the tiger.  Who was I f-f-f-foolin?  Roxanne drove me crazy like no one else.  She's a beauty!  She blinded me with science, and weird science at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There was always something there to remind me of her and I just knew that I'd have the time of my life.  I wasn't about to la-di-da-di.  I jumped in my little red Corvette and rocked down to Electric Avenue.  I got my mind set on her.  When I got to her house (in the middle of her street) I ran. I rapped on her front door and to this rapper's delight, I heard a voice say "Who can it be now?"  "Here I am, the one that you love", I replied. I let my love open the door and was immediately lost in her eyes.  I felt like a virgin touched for the very first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; She loosened her blouse and said "Rock me Amadeus!"  Well, I felt it was my prerogative to bust a move.  I told her "I'll tumble for ya!" as I pinned her on the stairs, hungry like the wolf.  Just then I felt an invisible touch on my shoulder.  "Turn around bright eyes!"  said a familiar voice.  As I did, Jessie hit me with a sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me right round like a record.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He was hangin' tough and continued to roll with it, knocking the wind from beneath my wings - broken wings by this time.  He rocked me tonight, for old time's sake, beating me from head to toe, until my True colors were black and blue and blood was spilling from my mouth like red, red wine. "You don't owe me money for nothing!" he snarled.  At this point I was livin' on a prayer.  I crawled back to my little red Corvette and drove home thinking about how my tainted love had cut like a knife - how it seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn.  No longer do I want to know what love is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Love stinks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067667086701283?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067667086701283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067667086701283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067667086701283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067667086701283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/love-in-eighties.html' title='Love in the Eighties'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067312066288010</id><published>2005-03-12T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T17:18:40.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MEN VS. WOMEN</title><content type='html'>NICKNAMES:&lt;br /&gt;                 If Emma, Suzanne, Debra and Michelle go out for lunch, they will call each other Emma, Suzanne, Debra and Michelle.&lt;br /&gt;But if Mike, Phil, Rob and Jack go out for a pint, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla, Peanut-Head and Useless.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 EATING OUT:&lt;br /&gt;                 When the bill arrives, Mike, Phil, Rob and Jack will each throw in $20, even though it's only for $22.50. None of them will have anything smaller, and none will actually admit they want change back.&lt;br /&gt;                 When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 MONEY:&lt;br /&gt;                 A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he wants.&lt;br /&gt;A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't want.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 BATHROOMS:&lt;br /&gt;                 A man has six items in his bathroom-a toothbrush, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel from the Holiday Inn.&lt;br /&gt;The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom is 437. A man would not be able to identify most of these items.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 ARGUMENTS:&lt;br /&gt;                 A woman has the last word in any argument. Anything a man says after&lt;br /&gt;                 that is the beginning of a new argument.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 CATS:&lt;br /&gt;                 Women love cats.&lt;br /&gt;Men say they love cats, but when women aren't looking, men kick cats.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 FUTURE:&lt;br /&gt;                 A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.&lt;br /&gt;A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 SUCCESS:&lt;br /&gt;                 A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.&lt;br /&gt;                 A successful woman is one who can find such a man.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 MARRIAGE:&lt;br /&gt;                 A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change and she does.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 DRESSING UP:&lt;br /&gt;                 A woman will dress up to: go shopping, water the plants, empty the garbage, answer the phone, read a book, get the mail.&lt;br /&gt;A man will dress up for: weddings, funerals.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 NATURAL:&lt;br /&gt;                 Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;Women somehow deteriorate during the night.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 OFFSPRING:&lt;br /&gt;                 Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children.  She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends and favorite foods and secret fears and hopes and dreams.&lt;br /&gt;A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067312066288010?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067312066288010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067312066288010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067312066288010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067312066288010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/men-vs-women.html' title='MEN VS. WOMEN'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067243464470943</id><published>2005-03-12T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T17:07:14.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Useful phrases for co-workers...</title><content type='html'>You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Someday, we'll look back on this, laugh nervously and change the subject.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Thank you.  We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I have plenty of talent and vision.  I just don't give a damn&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I like you.  You remind me of when I was young and stupid.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   What am I?  Flypaper for freaks!?&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I'm not being rude.  You're just insignificant.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Ahhh...I see the fuck-up fairy has visited us again...&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   No, my powers can only be used for good.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   How about never?  Is never good for you?&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to worship me.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   You sound reasonable...Time to up my medication&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Are you a fucking ray of sunshine every day?&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message...&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   I don't work here.  I'm a consultant.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Who me?  I just wander from room to room.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   My toys!  My toys!  I can't do this job without my toys!&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   It might look like I'm doing nothing, but at the cellular level I'm really quite busy.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   At least I have a positive attitude about my destructive habits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067243464470943?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067243464470943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067243464470943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067243464470943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067243464470943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/useful-phrases-for-co-workers.html' title='Useful phrases for co-workers...'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067201961518714</id><published>2005-03-12T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T17:00:19.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Famous Female Quotes</title><content type='html'>I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb...and I also know that I'm not blonde.     &lt;br /&gt;---- Dolly Parton&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  You see a lot of smart guys with dumb women, but you hardly ever see a smart woman with a dumb guy.         &lt;br /&gt;--- Erica Jong&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  I've been on so many blind dates, I should get a free dog.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Wendy Liebman&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Erma Bombeck&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  If high heels were so wonderful, men would be wearing them.&lt;br /&gt;                    -- Sue Grafton&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  I'm not going to vacuum 'til Sears makes one you can ride on.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Roseanne&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  I found out why cats drink out of the toilet.  My mother told me it's because it's cold in there.  And I'm like: How did my mother know THAT?&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Wendy Liebman&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  I think-therefore I'm single.&lt;br /&gt;                  ----Lizz  Winstead&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  When women are depressed they either eat or go shopping.  Men invade another country.&lt;br /&gt;                  ----Elayne  Boosler&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  Behind every successful man is a surprised woman.&lt;br /&gt;                  ----- Maryon Pearson&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man; if you want anything done, ask a woman.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Margaret Thatcher&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Gloria Steinem&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Gloria Steinem&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other.  Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Katharine Hepburn&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                  If men can run the world, why can't they stop wearing neckties?  How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck?&lt;br /&gt;                  --- Linda Ellerbee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067201961518714?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067201961518714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067201961518714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067201961518714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067201961518714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/famous-female-quotes.html' title='Famous Female Quotes'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067179409397930</id><published>2005-03-12T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:56:34.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Children's books you'll never see</title><content type='html'>What is That Dog Doing to That Other Dog?&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         You Were an Accident&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Strangers Have the Best Candy&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Little Sissy Who Snitched&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Some Kittens Can Fly!&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Getting More Chocolate on Your Face&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Kathy Was So Bad Her Mom Stopped Loving Her&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Attention Deficit Disorder Association's Book of Wild Animals of North Amer - Hey! Let's Go Ride Our Bikes!&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         All Dogs Go to Hell&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Kid's Guide to Hitchhiking&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         You Are Different and That's Bad&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;         POP! Goes the Hamster...and Other Great Microwave Games&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Testing Homemade Parachutes Using Only Your Household Pets&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Hardy Boys, the Barbie Twins, and the Vice Squad&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Babar Meets the Taxidermist&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Curious George and the High Voltage Fence&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Boy Who Died From Eating All His Vegetables&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Pop-Up Book of Human Anatomy&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         The Care Bears Maul Some Campers and Are Shot Dead&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         When Mommy and Daddy Don't Know the Answer, They Say God Did It&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Controlling the Playground: Respect Through Fear&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;         Why Can't Mr. Fork and Ms. Electrical Outlet Be Friends?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067179409397930?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067179409397930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067179409397930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067179409397930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067179409397930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/childrens-books-youll-never-see.html' title='Children&apos;s books you&apos;ll never see'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067152705314865</id><published>2005-03-12T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:52:07.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Nuns Out After Dark</title><content type='html'>Two nuns went out of the convent to sell cookies. One of them is known as Sister Mathematical(SM) and the other one is known as Sister Logical(SL).&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;It is getting dark and they are still far away from the convent.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        SL: Have you noticed that a man has been following us for the past half-hour?&lt;br /&gt;        SM: Yes, I wonder what he wants.&lt;br /&gt;        SL: It's logical. He wants to rape us.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: Oh, no! At this rate he will reach us in 15 minutes at the most. What can we do?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to do of course is that we have to start walking faster.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: It is not working.&lt;br /&gt;        SL: Of course it is not working. The man did the only obvious thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;        He started to walk faster too.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: So, what shall we do? At this rate he will reach us in one minute.&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing we can do is split. You go that way and I'll go this way. He cannot follow both of us.       &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        So the man decided to go after Sister Logical.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;        Sister Mathematical arrives at the convent and is worried because Sister Logical has not yet arrived. Finally, Sister Logical arrives.       &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;        SM: Sister Logical! Thank God you are here! Tell us what happened!&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing happened. The man could not follow both of us, so&lt;br /&gt;        he followed me.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: So, what happened? Please tell us.&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to happen. I started to run as fast as I could.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: So what happened?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to happen. The man also started to run as fast as&lt;br /&gt;        he could.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: And what else?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to happen. He reached me.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: Oh, no! What did you do then?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to do. I lifted my dress up.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: Oh, Sister. What did the man do?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: The only logical thing to do. He pulled down his pants.&lt;br /&gt;        SM: Oh, no! What happened then?&lt;br /&gt;        SL: Isn't it logical, Sister? A nun with her dress up can run faster than a man with his pants down.&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;        (and you thought it was dirty!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067152705314865?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067152705314865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067152705314865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067152705314865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067152705314865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/two-nuns-out-after-dark.html' title='Two Nuns Out After Dark'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067124448701885</id><published>2005-03-12T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:47:24.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Traveling in the South</title><content type='html'>If you are from the northern states and planning on visiting or moving to the South, there are a few things you should know that will help you adapt to the difference in lifestyles:&lt;br /&gt;  a.   If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly.  Don't try to help them, just stay out of  their way. This is what they live for.&lt;br /&gt;  b.   Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store.  Do not buy food at this store.&lt;br /&gt;  c.   Remember, "ya'll" is singular, "all ya'll" is plural, and  "all ya'll's" is plural possessive.&lt;br /&gt;  d.   Get used to hearing "You ain't from around here, are ya?"&lt;br /&gt;  e.   You may hear a Southerner say "Ought!" to a dog or child.  This is short for "Ya'll oughta not do that!" and is the equivalent of saying "No!"&lt;br /&gt;  f.   Don't be worried at not understanding what people are saying.  They can't understand you either.&lt;br /&gt;  g.   The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective "big'ol," as in "big'ol truck" or "big'ol boy."  Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way.  All of them are in denial about it.&lt;br /&gt;  h.   The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.&lt;br /&gt;  i.   Be advised that "He needed killin'" is a valid defense here.&lt;br /&gt;  j.   If you hear a Southerner exclaim, "Hey, ya'll, watch this,"  stay out of the way.  These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.&lt;br /&gt;  k.   If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store.  It doesn't matter whether you need&lt;br /&gt;  anything or not.  You just have to go there.&lt;br /&gt;  l.   When you come up on a person driving 15 mph down the middle of the road, remember that most folks learn to drive on a  John Deere tractor, and that this is the proper speed and position&lt;br /&gt;  for that vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;  m. Do not be surprised to find that 10 year olds own their own  shotguns and are proficient marksmen. Or that their mammas taught  them how to aim.&lt;br /&gt;  n.   In the South, we have found that the best way to grow a lush,  green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a driveway.&lt;br /&gt;  o.   If you do settle in the South and bear children, don't  think we will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat  had kittens in the oven, we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067124448701885?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067124448701885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067124448701885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067124448701885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067124448701885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/traveling-in-south.html' title='Traveling in the South'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067114837145951</id><published>2005-03-12T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:45:48.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Week in the Life of a Cat</title><content type='html'>DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.    &lt;br /&gt;DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and  repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this on their bed.&lt;br /&gt;DAY 762 - Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.    &lt;br /&gt;DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan ......&lt;br /&gt;DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the  water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.&lt;br /&gt;DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "wine." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.&lt;br /&gt;DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant.  He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067114837145951?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067114837145951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067114837145951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067114837145951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067114837145951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/week-in-life-of-cat.html' title='A Week in the Life of a Cat'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067107793303940</id><published>2005-03-12T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:44:37.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Things To Do In An Elevator</title><content type='html'>1.Make race car noises when anyone gets on or off.&lt;br /&gt;2.Blow your nose and offer to show the contents of your kleenex to other passengers.&lt;br /&gt;3.Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering: "Shut up, all of you just shut UP!"&lt;br /&gt;4.Whistle the first seven notes of "It's a Small World" incessantly.&lt;br /&gt;5.Sell Girl Scout cookies.&lt;br /&gt;6.On a long ride, sway side to side at the natural frequency of the elevator.&lt;br /&gt;7.Shave.&lt;br /&gt;8.Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside ask: "Got enough air in there?"&lt;br /&gt;9.Offer name tags to everyone getting on the elevator. Wear yours upside-down.&lt;br /&gt;10.Stand silent and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off. &lt;br /&gt;11.When arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the  doors open, then act embarrassed when they open by themselves.&lt;br /&gt;12.Lean over to another passenger and whisper: "Noogie patrol coming!"&lt;br /&gt;13.Greet everyone getting on the elevator with a warm handshake and ask them to call you Admiral.&lt;br /&gt;14.One word: Flatulence!&lt;br /&gt;15.On the highest floor, hold the door open and demand that it stay open until you hear the penny you dropped down the shaft go "plink" at the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;16.Do Tai Chi exercises.&lt;br /&gt;17.Stare, grinning, at another passenger for a while, and then announce: "I've got new socks on!"&lt;br /&gt;18.When at least 8 people have boarded, moan from the back: "Oh, not now, motion sickness!"&lt;br /&gt;19.Give religious tracts to each passenger.&lt;br /&gt;20.Meow occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;21.Bet the other passengers you can fit a quarter in your nose.&lt;br /&gt;22.Frown and mutter "gotta go, gotta go" then sigh and say "oops!"&lt;br /&gt;23.Show other passengers a wound and ask if it looks infected.&lt;br /&gt;24.Sing "Mary had a little lamb" while continually pushing buttons.&lt;br /&gt;25.Holler "Chutes away!" whenever the elevator descends.&lt;br /&gt;26.Walk on with a cooler that says "human head" on the side.&lt;br /&gt;27.Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce "You're one of  THEM!" and move to the far corner of the elevator.&lt;br /&gt;28.Burp, and then say "mmmm...tasty!"&lt;br /&gt;29.Leave a box between the doors.&lt;br /&gt;30.Ask each passenger getting on if you can push the button for them.&lt;br /&gt;31.Wear a puppet on your hand and talk to other passengers "through" it.&lt;br /&gt;32.Start a sing-along.&lt;br /&gt;33.When the elevator is silent, look around and ask "is that your beeper?"&lt;br /&gt;34.Play the harmonica.&lt;br /&gt;35.Shadow box.&lt;br /&gt;36.Say "Ding!" at each floor.&lt;br /&gt;37.Lean against the button panel.&lt;br /&gt;38.Say "I wonder what all these do" and push the red buttons.&lt;br /&gt;39.Listen to the elevator walls with a stethoscope.&lt;br /&gt;40.Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers that this is your  "personal space."&lt;br /&gt;41.Bring a chair along.&lt;br /&gt;42.Take a bite of a sandwich and ask another passenger: "Wanna see wha in muh mouf?"&lt;br /&gt;43.Blow spit bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;44.Pull your gum out of your mouth in long strings.&lt;br /&gt;45.Announce in a demonic voice: "I must find a more suitable host body."&lt;br /&gt;46.Carry a blanket and clutch it protectively.&lt;br /&gt;47.Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.&lt;br /&gt;48.Wear "X-Ray Specs" and leer suggestively at other passengers.&lt;br /&gt;49.Stare at your thumb and say "I think it's getting larger."&lt;br /&gt;50.If anyone brushes against you, recoil and holler "Bad touch!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067107793303940?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067107793303940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067107793303940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067107793303940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067107793303940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/fun-things-to-do-in-elevator.html' title='Fun Things To Do In An Elevator'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067098933459675</id><published>2005-03-12T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:43:09.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ultimate Chain Mail Forward</title><content type='html'>Hello, my name is Alfonso Merkin. I am suffering from rare and deadly diseases, poor scores on final exams, lack of sexual activity, fear of being kidnapped and executed by anal electrocution, and guilt for not sending out 50 billion fucking forwards sent to me by people who actually believe that if you send them, that poor 6 year old girl in Arkansas with lung cancer brought on by second-hand smoke from the cigarettes smoked by the big bad men who kidnapped her and took pornographic pictures of her for use on their child pornography website will get 6 fucking cents every time you send me the letter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you honestly believe that Bill Gates is going to give you and everyone you send "his" email to $1000? How fucking stupid are you? Ooooh, lookyhere!  If I scroll down this page and make a wish, I'll get laid by every Victoria's Secret model in the catalog! What a bunch of bullshit.  So basically, this message is a big FUCK YOU to all the people out there who have nothing better to do than to send me stupid chain mail forwards.  Maybe the evil chain letter leprechauns will come into my apartment and sodomize me in my sleep for not continuing the chain which was started by Jesus in 5 A.D.and was brought to this country by midget pilgrims on the Mayflower  and if it makes it to the Guiness Book of World Records for longest continuous streak of blatant stupidity. Fuck them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're going to forward something, least send something mildly amusing. I've seen all the "send this to 50 of your closest friends, and this poor, wretched excuse for a human being will somehow receive a nickel from some "omniscient being" forwards about 90 times. I don't fucking care.  Show a little intelligence and think about what you're actually contributing to by sending out forwards.  Chances are it's your own unpopularity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FOUR BASIC TYPES OF CHAIN LETTERS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chain Letter Type 1:&lt;br /&gt;(scroll down)&lt;br /&gt;Make a wish!!!&lt;br /&gt;Really, go on and make one!!&lt;br /&gt;Oh please, that person will never go out with you!!!&lt;br /&gt;Wish something else!!!&lt;br /&gt;Not that, you pervert!!&lt;br /&gt;Is your finger getting tired yet?&lt;br /&gt;STOP!!&lt;br /&gt;Wasn't that fun?   :)    Hope you made a great wish.   :)&lt;br /&gt;Now, to make you feel guilty, here's what I'll do.  First of all, if you don't send this to 5096 people in the next 5 seconds, you will be raped by a mad dwarf and thrown off a high building into a pile of manure. It's true!  Because, THIS letter isn't like all of those fake ones, THIS one is TRUE!! Really!!! Here's how it goes: *Send this to 1 person: One person will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter. *Send this to 2-5 people: 2-5 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter. *Send this to 5-10 people: 5-10 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter, and may form a plot on your life. *Send this to 10-20 people: 10-20 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter and will napalm your house.  Thanks!!!! Good Luck!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chain Letter Type 2&lt;br /&gt;Hello, and thank you for reading this letter. You see, there is a starving little boy in Baklaliviatatlaglooshen who has no arms, no legs, no parents, and no goats. This little boy's life could be saved, because for every time you pass this on, a dollar will be donated to the Little Starving Legless Armless Goatless Boy from Baklaliviatatlaglooshen Fund.  Remember, we  have no way of counting letters sent and this is all bull. So go on, reach out.  Send this to 5 people in the next 47 seconds. = Oh, and a reminder - if you accidentally send this to 4 or 6 people, you will die instantly. Thanks again!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chain Letter Type 3&lt;br /&gt;Hi there!! This chain letter has been in existence since 1897. This is absolutely incredible because there was no email then and probably not as many little 8 year olds writing chain letters. So this is how it works.  Pass this on to 15,067 people in the next 7 minutes or something horrible will happen to you like:&lt;br /&gt;Queer Horror Story #1  Miranda Pinsley was walking home from school on Saturday. She had recently recieved this letter and ignored it. She then tripped in a crack in the sidewalk, fell into the sewer, was gushed down a drainpipe in a flood of poopie, and went flying out over a waterfall. Not only did she smell nasty, she died. This Could Happen To You!!!&lt;br /&gt;Queer Horror Story #2  Dexter Bip, a 13 year old boy, got a chain letter in his mail and&lt;br /&gt;ignored it.  Later that day, he was hit by a car and so was his boyfriend (hey, some people swing that way). They both died and went to hell and were cursed to eat adorable kittens every day for eternity. This Could Happen To You!!!&lt;br /&gt;Remember, you could end up like Pinsley and Bip did.  Just send this letter to all of your loser friends, and everything will be Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chain Letter Type 4:&lt;br /&gt;As if you care, here is a poem that I wrote. Send it to every one of your friends.  &lt;br /&gt;Friends&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who is always at your side,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who likes you even though you smell like poop,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who likes you even though you're disgustingly ugly.&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who cleans up for you after you've soiled yourself,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who stays with you all night while you cry about your loser life,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who pretends they like you when they really think you should be raped by mad goats, then thrown to vicious dogs,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who scrubs your toilet, vacuums and then gets the check and leaves and doesn't speak much English... no sorry that's the cleaning lady,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is not someone who sends you chain letters because he wants his wish of being rich to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now pass this on! If you don't, you'll be eaten by wild mutts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067098933459675?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067098933459675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067098933459675' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067098933459675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067098933459675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/ultimate-chain-mail-forward.html' title='The Ultimate Chain Mail Forward'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067066924905556</id><published>2005-03-12T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:37:49.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>USEFUL METRIC CONVERSIONS</title><content type='html'>1 million microphones = 1 megaphone&lt;br /&gt;2000 mockingbirds = two kilomockingbirds&lt;br /&gt;10 cards = 1 decacards&lt;br /&gt;1 millionth of a fish = 1 microfiche&lt;br /&gt;453.6 graham crackers = 1 pound cake&lt;br /&gt;1 trillion pins = 1 terrapin&lt;br /&gt;10 rations = 1 decoration&lt;br /&gt;100 rations = 1 C-ration&lt;br /&gt;10 millipedes = 1 centipede&lt;br /&gt;3 1/3 tridents = 1 decadent&lt;br /&gt;2 monograms = 1 diagram&lt;br /&gt;8 nickels = 2 paradigms&lt;br /&gt;2 wharves = 1 paradox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067066924905556?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067066924905556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067066924905556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067066924905556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067066924905556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/useful-metric-conversions.html' title='USEFUL METRIC CONVERSIONS'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111067040545478658</id><published>2005-03-12T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T20:30:01.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Animal Lessons</title><content type='html'>Lesson #1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A crow was sitting on a tree, doing nothing all day. A small rabbit saw the crow, and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing all day long?" The crow answered: "Sure, why not." So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the crow, and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy." "Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?" replied the bull. "They're packed with nutrients." The turkey pecked at a lump of dung and found that it actually gave him enough strength to reach the first branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fortnight, there he was proudly perched at the top of the tree. Soon he was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot the turkey out of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the body was first made, all the parts wanted to be Boss. The brain said, " I should be Boss because I control the whole body's responses and functions." The feet said, " We should be Boss as we carry the brain about and get him to where he wants to go." The hands said, " We should be the Boss because we do all the work and earn all the money." And so it went on and on with the heart, the lungs and the eyes until finally the asshole spoke up. All the parts laughed at the idea of the asshole being the Boss. So the asshole went on strike, blocked itself up and refused to work. Within a short time the eyes became crossed, the hands clenched, the feet twitched, the heart and lungs began to panic and the brain fevered. Eventually they all decided that the asshole should be the Boss, so the motion was passed. All the other parts did all the work while the Boss&lt;br /&gt;just sat and passed out the shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: You don't need brains to be a Boss - any asshole will do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111067040545478658?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111067040545478658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111067040545478658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067040545478658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111067040545478658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/animal-lessons.html' title='Animal Lessons'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066984379670960</id><published>2005-03-12T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:24:03.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You know you grew up in the 80s if:</title><content type='html'>You wore anything Izod, especially those windbreakers that folded up into a pouch you could wear around your waist.&lt;br /&gt;You owned a Jordache anything, or you remember when Jordache jeans were cool.&lt;br /&gt;You remember LeFreak by Chic.&lt;br /&gt;In your sophomore class picture, you're wearing an Izod shirt with the collar "up."&lt;br /&gt;"All-skate, change directions" means something to you.&lt;br /&gt;In high school, you and all your friends discussed elaborate plans to get together again at the end of the century and play "1999" by Prince over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;You rode in the back of the station wagon and you faced the cars behind you in the "tail gunner" position.&lt;br /&gt;Schoolhouse Rock played a HUGE part in how you actually learned the English language.&lt;br /&gt;You ever dressed to emulate a person you saw in either a Duran Duran, Bon Jovi, Madonna, Rick Springfield, or Cyndi Lauper video.&lt;br /&gt;You actually know who Rick Springfield is.&lt;br /&gt;You're starting to believe that maybe having the kids go to school year-round wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.&lt;br /&gt;You know what "Gag me with a spoon" means.&lt;br /&gt;You were in love with Bo and Luke Duke.&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing strange about Bert n' Ernie living together.&lt;br /&gt;Knickers and leg warmers were cool.&lt;br /&gt;You learned to swim about the same time Jaws came out and still carry the emotional scars to this day.&lt;br /&gt;You ever wanted to learn to play "Stairway to Heaven" on the guitar and choreographed "Dancing Queen" by yourself in your room.&lt;br /&gt;You were afraid of the Sleestaks on "Land Of The Lost".&lt;br /&gt;The first time you ever kissed someone was at a dance during "Crazy forYou" by Madonna.&lt;br /&gt;You ever used the phrase "kiss mah grits" in conversation.&lt;br /&gt;You had ringside seats for Luke and Laura's wedding.&lt;br /&gt;You know who shot J.R.&lt;br /&gt;This rings a bell: "and my name, is Charlie. They work for me."&lt;br /&gt;You ever had a Dorothy Hamill haircut.&lt;br /&gt;You sat with your friends on a Friday night and dialed "8-6-7-5-3-0-9" to see if Jenny would answer.&lt;br /&gt;You owned a pair of Rainbow suspenders just like Mork used to wear.&lt;br /&gt;You remember when your cable TV box had the three rows of numbers and you had to move the selector switch accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;You could sing "99 Red Balloons" in English and in German.&lt;br /&gt;You ever had Feathered hair.&lt;br /&gt;Your jaw would ache by the time you finished those "brick-sized" packages of Bazooka gum.&lt;br /&gt;The phrase "Where's the beef?" still doubles you over with laughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066984379670960?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066984379670960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066984379670960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066984379670960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066984379670960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/you-know-you-grew-up-in-80s-if.html' title='You know you grew up in the 80s if:'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066871150474239</id><published>2005-03-12T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:05:11.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You might be from Denver if....</title><content type='html'>1.  You are the third car to run a red light after it has changed.&lt;br /&gt; 2.  You merge onto the highway at 15 miles an hour.&lt;br /&gt; 3.  You have absolutely no recognizable accent.&lt;br /&gt; 4.  If the humidity gets above 20%, you consider it "Muggy".&lt;br /&gt; 5.  You only go to Lodo when friends are in from out of town.&lt;br /&gt; 6.  You have been skiing less than 3 times in your life.&lt;br /&gt; 7.  You actually think 5-points is a ghetto.&lt;br /&gt; 8.  You hear the number "82" and grab a shovel. (As in Blizzard of '82)&lt;br /&gt; 9.  You say things like "I don't care how big Parker is, it's still a one-horse town".&lt;br /&gt;10. You think only stupid people get lost in this town.&lt;br /&gt;11. When giving directions, you never say, "Turn left, turn right", it's always go West , then South.&lt;br /&gt;12. You know where the city ended when you were a kid, and would never move further out than that boundary.&lt;br /&gt;13. You hear "Governor Owens" and you still think they're talking about some other state's governor.&lt;br /&gt;14. There is not enough money in the world to get you to move to the Springs.&lt;br /&gt;15. During a thunderstorm you wonder "Which I-25 underpass is flooding".&lt;br /&gt;16. You never plan a picnic between 3:30 and 6:00 in Spring or Summer months.&lt;br /&gt;17. If it rains more than 2 days straight you compare the weather to being in Seattle.&lt;br /&gt;18. Thorton, Northglenn, Broomfield and Westminster are "Another State".&lt;br /&gt;19. You voted for higher taxes to fund Coors field, but voted down taxes for public transportation.&lt;br /&gt;20. You have a broken windshield.&lt;br /&gt;21. You see no reason to travel to Aurora.&lt;br /&gt;22. The only RTD bus you've been on is the 16th Street shuttle.&lt;br /&gt;23. Terms: &lt;br /&gt;Big Mac-  A sports venue, not a double-decker sandwich.&lt;br /&gt;                       LoDo-  A tourist trap with expensive condos, not an extinct bird.&lt;br /&gt;                      "Little California" = Highlands Ranch&lt;br /&gt;                      The Springs-  Colorado Springs, where the religious freaks live.&lt;br /&gt;                      Independent Republic of Boulder = Where the rest of the freaks live.&lt;br /&gt;                     The Donkeys-  The Broncos when they are losing.&lt;br /&gt;                     "Californicators" = Californians&lt;br /&gt;                     "The narrows" = I-25 between University and Broadway&lt;br /&gt;                     "Jolly Green Giant's Golf Balls  =  Buckley A.N.G.&lt;br /&gt;                     "tourists" = people driving on the 16th street mall.&lt;br /&gt;                     "Damn Rockies" = What one says looking for a parking spot Downtown..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066871150474239?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066871150474239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066871150474239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066871150474239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066871150474239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/you-might-be-from-denver-if.html' title='You might be from Denver if....'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066800233660487</id><published>2005-03-12T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T16:02:21.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One-liners at Work</title><content type='html'>And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be..?&lt;br /&gt;Do I look like a damn people person?&lt;br /&gt;This isn't an office.  It's Hell with Fluorescent lighting.&lt;br /&gt;I started out with nothing &amp; still have most of it.&lt;br /&gt;I pretend to work. They pretend to pay me.&lt;br /&gt;Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.&lt;br /&gt;If I throw a stick, will you leave?&lt;br /&gt;You!...off my planet!!!&lt;br /&gt;Does you train of thought have a caboose?&lt;br /&gt;Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?&lt;br /&gt;Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.&lt;br /&gt;Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.&lt;br /&gt;A woman's favorite position is CEO.&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.&lt;br /&gt;A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.&lt;br /&gt;Stress is when you wake up screaming &amp; you realize you haven't fallen asleep yet.&lt;br /&gt;Can I trade this job for what's behind door 1 ?&lt;br /&gt;I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.&lt;br /&gt;Too many freaks, not enough circuses.&lt;br /&gt;Nice perfume, Must you marinate in it?&lt;br /&gt;Chos, panic &amp; disorder- my work here is done.&lt;br /&gt;I plead contemporary insanity.&lt;br /&gt;How do I set a laser printer to stun?&lt;br /&gt;I majored in liberal arts. Will that be for here or to go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066800233660487?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066800233660487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066800233660487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066800233660487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066800233660487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/one-liners-at-work.html' title='One-liners at Work'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066774695756774</id><published>2005-03-12T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T15:49:06.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE PERFECT MAN</title><content type='html'>The perfect man is gentle&lt;br /&gt;Never cruel or mean&lt;br /&gt;He has a beautiful smile&lt;br /&gt;And keeps his face so clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man likes children&lt;br /&gt;And will raise them by your side&lt;br /&gt;He will be a good father&lt;br /&gt;As well as a good husband to his bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man loves cooking&lt;br /&gt;Cleaning and vacuuming too&lt;br /&gt;He'll do anything in his power&lt;br /&gt;To convey his feelings of love on to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man is sweet&lt;br /&gt;Writing poetry from your name&lt;br /&gt;He's a best friend to your mother&lt;br /&gt;And kisses away your pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never has made you cry&lt;br /&gt;Or hurt you in any way&lt;br /&gt;To hell with this endless poem&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man is gay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066774695756774?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066774695756774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066774695756774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066774695756774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066774695756774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/perfect-man.html' title='THE PERFECT MAN'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066763431407020</id><published>2005-03-12T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T15:56:31.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THINGS YOU'D NEVER KNOW IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE MOVIES</title><content type='html'>Large, loft apartments in New York City are plentiful and affordable, even if the tenants are unemployed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of a pair of identical twins is evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should you decide to defuse a bomb, don't worry about which wire to cut.&lt;br /&gt;You will always choose the right one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter if you are greatly outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts. Your enemies will wait patiently to attack you one by one... dancing around in a threatening manner until you have dispatched their predecessors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you turn out the light to go to bed, everything in your bedroom will still be clearly visible but slightly blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are blonde and pretty, it is possible to be a world-famous expert on nuclear fission, dinosaurs, heiroglyphics, or anything else, at the age of 22.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honest and hard-working policemen are usually gunned down a day or two before retirement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than wasting bullets, megalomaniacs prefer to kill their enemies using complex machinery involving fuses, deadly gasses, lasers, buzz saws and hungry sharks, all of which will give their captives at least 20 minutes to escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During all crime investigations, it is necessary to visit a strip club at least once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All beds have special L-shaped covers that reach up to the armpits of a woman but only to the waist of the man lying beside her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All grocery shopping bags contain at least one French bread and one bunch of carrots with leafy tops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy to land a plane, providing there is someone in the control tower to talk you down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are beautiful, your makeup never rubs off, even while scuba-diving or fighting aliens. However if you also happen to be overweight, your mascara will run and your lipstick will smear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ventilation system of any building is the perfect hiding place. No one will ever think of looking for you in there, and you can travel to any other part of the building without difficulty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're very likely to survive any battle in any war unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should you wish to pass yourself off as a German officer, it is not necessary to speak the language. A German accent will do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man will show no pain while taking the most horrific beating, but will wince when a woman tries to clean his wounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If staying in a haunted house, women must investigate any strange noises in their most diaphanous underwear, which is what they happened to be wearing when the car broke down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone says "I'll be right back", they won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when driving down a perfectly straight road, it is necessary to turn the steering wheel from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All bombs are fitted with electronic timing devices with large red readouts so you know exactly when they're going to go off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A police detective can only solve a case after he has been suspended from duty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you decide to start dancing in the street, everyone around you will be able to mirror all the steps you come up with, and hear the music in your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Police departments give their officers personality tests to make sure each is assigned a partner who is their total opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066763431407020?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066763431407020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066763431407020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066763431407020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066763431407020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/things-youd-never-know-if-it-werent.html' title='THINGS YOU&apos;D NEVER KNOW IF IT WEREN&apos;T FOR THE MOVIES'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-111066412053956757</id><published>2005-03-12T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T15:55:46.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chemistry Bonus Question</title><content type='html'>The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington midterm chemistry exam. The answer is so "profound" that the professor shared it with his colleagues, which is why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law, (gas cools off when it expands and heats up when it is compressed) or some variant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One student, however, wrote the following: "First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing with time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some state that, if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions, and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, we look at the rate of change in the volume in Hell. Because Boyle's Law states hat in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell had to expand as souls are added.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This gives two possibilities:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1-If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2-Of course, if Hell is expanding at a faster rate than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, which is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we accept the postulate given to me by Ms Teresa Bunyan during my Freshman year-- "that it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you"-- and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then 2- cannot be true: and thus I am sure that Hell is Exothermic and will not freeze".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A" GIVEN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-111066412053956757?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/111066412053956757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=111066412053956757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066412053956757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/111066412053956757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/chemistry-bonus-question.html' title='Chemistry Bonus Question'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-110996760111756552</id><published>2005-03-04T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T13:20:01.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drawbacks to Working in a Cubicle</title><content type='html'>David Letterman's  Top 10 Drawbacks to Working in a Cubicle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Being told to "think outside the box" when you're in a freakin' box all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Not being able to check e-mail attachments without turning around to see who's behind you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Cubicle walls do not offer much protection from any kind of gun fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. That nagging feeling that if you press the right button, you'll get a piece of cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Lack of roof rafters for the noose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The walls are too close together for the hammock to work right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. 23 power cords - 1 outlet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Prison cells are not only bigger, they also have beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The carpet has been there since 1976 and shows more signs of life than your coworkers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And the Number 1 drawback to working in a cubicle is... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You can't walk out and slam the door when you quit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-110996760111756552?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/110996760111756552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=110996760111756552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110996760111756552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110996760111756552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/03/drawbacks-to-working-in-cubicle.html' title='Drawbacks to Working in a Cubicle'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-110927562549948069</id><published>2005-02-24T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T13:07:05.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linkage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.molen.ca/kenneth/gaming/images/pong.swf"&gt;Pong&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-110927562549948069?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/110927562549948069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=110927562549948069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110927562549948069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110927562549948069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/02/linkage.html' title='Linkage'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-110926303379490227</id><published>2005-02-24T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T10:24:14.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fairy Tale Retold by a Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Once upon a time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a land far away,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a beautiful, independent,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;self-assured princess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;happened upon a frog as she sat,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;contemplating ecological issues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the shores of an unpolluted pond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a verdant meadow near her castle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frog hopped into the princess' lap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and said: Elegant Lady&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once a handsome prince,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;until an evil witch cast a spell upon me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One kiss from you, however,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I will turn back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;into the dapper, young prince that I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then, my sweet, we can marry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and set up housekeeping in your castle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with my mother,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where you can prepare my meals,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;clean my clothes, bear my children,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feel grateful and happy doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as the princess dined sumptuously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on lightly sautéed frog legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;seasoned in a white wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and onion cream sauce,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she chuckled and thought to herself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't fucking think so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-110926303379490227?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/110926303379490227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=110926303379490227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110926303379490227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110926303379490227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/02/fairy-tale-retold-by-woman.html' title='Fairy Tale Retold by a Woman'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11054672.post-110926067642921078</id><published>2005-02-24T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T09:28:11.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I was your age...</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning uphill both ways through year 'round blizzards carrying their younger siblings on their backs to their one-room schoolhouse where they maintained a Straight-A average despite their full-time after-school job at the local textile mill where they worked for 35 cents an hour just to help keep their family from starving to death! And I remember promising myself that when I grew up there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia! And I hate to say it but you kids today you don't know how good you've got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet - we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves! There was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter - with a pen! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were no MP3s or Napsters! You wanted to steal music, you had to go to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself! Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and f@#* it all up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to hear about hardship? You couldn't just download porn! You had to bribe some homeless dude to buy you a copy of "Hustler" at the 7-11!&lt;br /&gt;Those were your options!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't have fancy shit like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID Boxes either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was it could be your boss, your mom, a collections agent, your drug dealer, you didn't know!!! You just had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't have any fancy Sony PlayStation videogames with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" and the graphics sucked ass! Your guy was a little square! You had to use your imagination! And there were no multiple levels or screens; it was just one screen forever! And you could never win, the game just kept getting harder and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you went to the movie theater there no such thing as stadium seating! All the seats were the same height! If a tall guy sat in front of you and you couldn't see you were just screwed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 20 channels and there was no onscreen menu and no remote control! You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing you had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel and there was no Cartoon Network! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning... d'ya hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK, you spoiled little bastards!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up we had to use the stove...imagine that! If we wanted popcorn we had to use that stupid jiffy pop and shake it over the stove like an idiot forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled; you guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1980!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11054672-110926067642921078?l=funnyforwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/feeds/110926067642921078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11054672&amp;postID=110926067642921078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110926067642921078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11054672/posts/default/110926067642921078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyforwards.blogspot.com/2005/02/when-i-was-your-age.html' title='When I was your age...'/><author><name>Joy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04756821882458182573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/206/2219/640/Sarah%20Fav2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
