Hump Day Humor #1

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This is a personal meme that I created at Mercedes Rocks. Mercedes Rocks is my other new blog that will host two memes for now. Hump Day Wednesday and Scrumptious Sunday. I will be participating in this meme each Wednesday.

 

Hump Day Humor: I was inspired to start this meme when I realized I personally needed a Wednesday meme with words (I already participate in Wordless Wednesdays). This meme is for  participants to post anything humorous on Hump Day~Wednesday~to add a little humor to our lives to help us get through the rest of the work week.  Right now I will post a theme for your post to go with, or I might ask some humorous questions to be answered for this meme. Please visit Mercedes Rocks to participate in this meme and check out the page on About These Two Memes to learn more about these two memes, frequently asked questions, more hints about memes, and Mr. Linky.

 

Feel Free to join in and I hope this makes your Hump Day brighter!

 

Theme for Hump Day Humor First Edition

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

~POEMS~

 

POEM FOR MOM

 

My son came home from school one day,

With a smirk upon his face.

He decided he was smart enough

To put me in my place.

           

“Guess what I learned in Civics Two

that’s taught by Mr. Wright

It’s all about the laws today.

The ‘Children’s Bill of Rights.’

         

It says I need not clean my room,

Don’t have to cut my hair

No one can tell me what to think,

Or speak, or what to wear.

                

I have freedom from religion,

And regardless what you say,

I don’t have to bow my head,

And I sure don’t have to pray.

                   

I can wear earrings if I want,

And pierce my tongue & nose.

I can read & watch just what I like,

Get tattoos from head to toe.

          

And if you ever spank me,

I’ll charge you with a crime.

I’ll back up all my charges,

With the marks on my behind.

           

Don’t you ever touch me,

My body’s only for my use,

Not for your hugs and kisses,

that’s just more child abuse.

                   

Don’t preach about your morals,

Like your Mama did to you.

That’s nothing more than mind control,

And it’s illegal too!

              

Mom, I have these children’s rights,

So you can’t influence me,

Or I’ll call Children’s Services Division,

Better known as C.S.D.”

               

Mom’s Reply and Thoughts

           

Of course my first instinct was

To toss him out the door.

But the chance to teach him a lesson

Made me think a little more.

            

I mulled it over carefully,

I couldn’t let this go.

A smile crept upon my face,

He’s messing with a pro.

        

Next day I took him shopping

At the local Goodwill Store..

I told him, “Pick out all you want,

There’s shirts & pants galore.

            

I’ve called and checked with C.S.D.

Who said they didn’t care

If I bought you K-Mart shoes

Instead of those Nike Airs.

             

I’ve cancelled that appointment

To take your driver’s test.

The C.S.D. is unconcerned

So I’ll decide what’s best.”

        

I said “No time to stop and eat,

Or pick up stuff to munch.

And tomorrow you can start to learn

To make your own sack lunch.

            

Just save the raging appetite,

And wait till dinner time.

We’re having liver and onions,

A favorite dish of mine.”

                

He asked “Can I please rent a movie,

To watch on my VCR?”

“Sorry, but I sold your TV,

For new tires on my car.

          

I also rented out your room,

You’ll take the couch instead.

The C.S.D. requires

Just a roof over your head.

             

Your clothing won’t be trendy now,

I’ll choose what we eat.

That allowance that you used to get,

Will buy me something neat.

           

I’m selling off your jet ski,

Dirt-bike & roller blades.

Check out the ‘Parents Bill of Rights’,

It’s in effect today!

            

Hey hot shot, are you crying,

Why are you on your knees?

Are you asking God to help you out,

Instead of C.S.D.?”

             

The Middle Wife

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The “Middle Wife”

Anonymous 2nd grade teacher

(email forward)


I’ve been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second grade classroom a few years back.When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it in to school and talk about it,they’re welcome.

Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater.She holds up a snapshot of an infant. “This is Luke, my baby brother, and I’m going to tell you about his birthday.”“First, Mom and Dad made him as a symbol of their love, and then Dad put a seed in my Mom’s stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord.”She’s standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I’m trying not to laugh and wishing I had my camcorder with me. The kids are watching her in amazement.

Then, about two Saturdays ago, my Mom starts saying and going, ‘Oh, Oh, Oh!’ Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. “She walked around the house for, like an hour, ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ (Now this kid is doing a hysterical duck walk and groaning.) “My Dad called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man. They got my Mom to lie down in bed like this. ” (Then Erica lies down with her back against the wall.)“And then, pop! My Mom had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!” (This kid has her legs spread with her little hands miming water flowing away. It was too much!)

Then the middle wife starts saying ‘push, push,’ and ‘breathe, breathe. They started counting, but never even got past ten. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff that they all said it was from Mom’s play-center, so there must be a lot of toys inside there.”

Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat. I’m sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, when it’s show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder, just in case another “Middle Wife” comes along.

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The Old Man and the Dog

This is an email forward I just received.                                                                         WARNING: Long~but good! It’s gonna make you cry! 

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The Old Man and the Dog

by Catherine Moore

“Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me.

“Can’t you do anything right?”
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another battle.

“I saw the car, Dad. Please don’t yell at me when I’m driving.” My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.” I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs—all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons—too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. “Can you tell me about him?” The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

“He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.” He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill him?”

“Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.”

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. “I’ll take him,” I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

“Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!” I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.

“You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s staying!” Dad ignored me. “Did you hear me, Dad?” I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even
started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne ‘s cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad’s bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad’s peace of mind.

The morning of Dad’s funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.”

“I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,” he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article….

Cheyenne ‘s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . .and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.
Live While You Are Alive.
Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

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What Love Means

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Email Forward: What Love means to a 4-8 year old. Slow down for three minutes to read this. It is so worth it. Touching words from the mouth of babes. A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, “What does love mean?” The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.”  Rebecca- age 8

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”  Billy – age 4

“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell ea ch other.”  Karl – age 5

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.”  Chrissy – age 6

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.”  Terri – age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.”  Danny – age 7

“Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.  My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss”  Emily – age 8

“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.”  Bobby – age 7 (Wow!)

“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.”  Nikka – age 6 (we need a few million more Nikka’s on this planet)

“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.”  Noelle – age 7

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.”  Tommy – age 6

“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.  He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.”  Cindy – age 8

“My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” Clare – age 6

“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.”  Elaine-age 5

“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.”  Chris – age 7

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.”  Mary Ann – age 4

“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.”  Lauren – age 4

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” (what an image)  Karen – age 7

“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn’t think it’s gross.”  Mark – age 6

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.”  Jessica – age 8

And the final one — Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.  The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.

Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing, I just helped him cry.”

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Out of the Mouths of Babes! WOW! Amazing! *sniff* *tears*! Soooooo~How does this make you feel?

If a Dog Were Your Teacher

             

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If a Dog were your Teacher
You would learn stuff like…..

  • When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

  • Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

  • When it’s in your best interest-practice obedience.

  • Take naps and stretch before rising.

  • Thrive on attention and let others touch you.

  • Run, romp, and play daily.

  • Avoid biting, when a simple growl will do.

  • When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

  • On hot days, lay down and rest.

  • No matter how often you’re scolded, don’t buy into the guilt thing and pout… run right back and make friends.

  • Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.

  • Be loyal.

  • Never pretend to be something you’re not.

  • When someone is having a bad day just jump in their arms and bring a happy smile.

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This is an email forward.  It has pictures too~but not for every item.  This is so true.  I need to read this daily. How about you?

Dog Peeves About Humans

   

1.  Blaming your farts on me…not funny…not funny at all!!!

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2.  Yelling at me for barking. I AM A FRIGGIN’ DOG! 

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3.  Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?

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4.  Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose. Stop it!

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5.  Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons.  Now you know why we chew your stuff up when you are not at home.

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6.  The sleight of hand, fake fetch throw. You fooled a dog!  Whooo Hooooo whart a proud moment for the top of the food chain.

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7.  Taking me to the vet for “the big snip”, then acting surprised when I freak out every time we go back!

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8.  Getting upset when I sniff the crothces of guests. Sorry, but I haven’t quite mastered that handshake thing yet.

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9. Dog sweaters. Hello??? Haven’t you noticed the fur?

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10.  How you act disgusted when I lick myself. Look, we both know the truth. You’re just jealous.

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Now lay off me on some of these things. We both know who’s boss here! You don’t see me picking up your poop, do you?

EVERY DOG HAS IT’S DAY! A DOG ALWAYS OFFERS UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. CATS HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT!

Missy the Cat: Is this true?

A Blonde’s Year in Review

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January
Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight.

February
Fired from pharmacy job for failing to print labels…..
Helllloooo!!!…….bottles won’t fit in printer !!!

March
Got really excited…..finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months….. box said ‘2-4 years!’

April
Trapped on escalator for hours …. power went out!!!

May
Tried to make Kool-Aid…..wrong instructions….8 cups of
water won’t fit into those little packets!!!

June
Tried to go water skiing…….couldn’t find a lake with a slope. 

July
Lost breast stroke swimming competition…..learned later,
the other swimmers cheated, they used their arms!!!

August
Got locked out of my car in rain storm….. car swamped because soft-top was open.

September
The capital of California is ‘C’…..isn’t it? ??

October
Hate M &M’s…..they are so hard to peel.

November
Baked turkey for 4 1/2 days .. instructions said 1 hour per pound and I weigh 108!!

December
Couldn’t call 911 . ‘duh’…..there’s no ‘eleven’ button on the stupid phone!!!

Where to Live

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You can live in Phoenix , Arizona where…..

1. You are willing to park 3 blocks away because you found shade.
2. You’ve experienced condensation on your butt from the hot water in the toilet bowl.
3. You can drive for 4 hours in one direction and never leave town.
4. You have over 100 recipes for Mexican food.
5. You know that “dry heat” is comparable to what hits you in the face when you open your oven door.
6. The 4 seasons are: tolerable, hot, really hot, and ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

You can Live in California where…   

1. You make over $250,000 and you still can’t afford to buy a house.
2. The fastest part of your commute is going down your driveway.
3. You know how to eat an artichoke.
4. You drive your rented Mercedes to your neighborhood block party.
5. When someone asks you how far something is, you tell them how long it will take to get there rather than how many miles away it is.
6. The 4 seasons are: Fire, Flood, Mud, and Drought

              
You can Live in New York City where…

1. You say “the city” and expect everyone to know you mean Manhattan .
2. You can get into a four-hour argument about how to get from Columbus Circle to Battery Park, but can’t find Wisconsin on a map.
3. You think Central Park is “nature,”
4. You believe that being able to swear at people in their own language makes you multi-lingual.
5. You’ve worn out a car horn.
6. You think eye contact is an act of aggression.

                  
You can Live in Michigan where…

1. You only have four spices: salt, pepper, ketchup, and Tabasco .
2. Halloween costumes fit over parkas.
3. You have more than one recipe for deer.
4. Sexy lingerie is anything flannel with less than eight buttons.
5. The four seasons are: winter, still winter, almost winter, and construction.

              
You can Live in the Deep South where…

1. You can rent a movie and buy bait in the same store.
2. “y’all” is singular and “all y’all” is plural.
3. “He needed killin'” is a valid defense.
4. Everyone has 2 first names: Billy Bob, Jimmy Bob, Mary Sue, Betty Jean, MARY BETH, etc.

                          
You can live in Colorado where…

1. You carry your $3,000 mountain bike atop your $500 car.
2. You tell your husband to pick up Granola on his way home and he stops at the day care center.
3. A pass does not involve a football or dating.
4.The top of your head is bald, but you still have a pony tail.

AND You can live in Florida where…

1. You eat dinner at 3:15 in the afternoon.
2. All purchases include a coupon of some kind — even houses and cars.
3. Everyone can recommend an excellent dermatologist.
4. Road construction never ends anywhere in the state.
5. Cars in front of you are often driven by headless people, and have their turn signals on (for miles).

Where do you live?  Where would you like to live?

Letter of Thanks

       

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Dear All,
 
My thanks to all those who have sent me emails this past year……..
 
I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about cockroach eggs in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing.
 
Also, I now have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.
 

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown), who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.
 
I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.
 
Or from the senior bank clerk in Nigeria who wants to split $7 million with me for pretending to be a long lost relative of a customer who died. 
 
I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa’s novena has granted my every wish.
 
I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.
 
Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.
 
Because of your kind concern, I no longer drink Coca-Cola because it can remove toilet stains.
 
I no longer can buy gas without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won’t crawl in my back seat when I’m filling up.
 
I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.
 
I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore and Uzbekistan.
 
Thanks to you, I can’t use anyone’s toilet but my own because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my ass.
 
And thanks to your great advice, I can’t even pick up the $5.00 I found dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.
 
If you don’t send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 7 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00pm this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor’s ex-mother-in-law’s second husband’s cousin’s beautician.
 
By the way….a South American scientist, after a lengthy study, has  discovered that people with low IQ’s and who have infrequent sexual activity always  read their e-mails with their hand on the mouse. Don’t bother taking it off now, it’s too late.

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New Drugs on the Market

   

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St. Mom’s Wort – Plant extract that treats mom’s depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to six hours.

Empty Nestrogen – Highly effective suppository that eliminates melancholy by enhancing the memory of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn’t wait til they moved out.

Flipitor – Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

Antiboyotics – When administered to teenage girls, is highly effective in improving grades, freeing up phone lines, and reducing money spent on make-up.

Buyagra – Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency and duration of spending spree.

Extra Strength Buy-one-all – When combined with Buyagra, can cause an indiscriminate buying frenzy so severe the victim may even come home with a really bad club music CD or a book by that awful television doctor.

Jack Asspirin – Relieves the headache caused by a man who can’t remember your birthday, anniversary or phone number.

Anti-talksident – A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers.

Ragamet – When administered to a husband, provides the same irritation as ragging on him all weekend, saving the wife the time and trouble of doing it herself.

The Pastor’s Ass

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The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won.
The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he
entered it in the race again, and it won again.

The local paper read:
PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of
publicity that he ordered the pastor not to
enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read:
BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS

This was too much for the bishop,
so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey.
The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.

The local paper, hearing of the news,
posted the following headline the next day:
NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN

The bishop fainted.
He informed the nun that she would have to get
rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.

The next day the paper read:
NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10

This was too much for the bishop,
so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and
lead it to the plains where it could run wild.

The next day the headlines read:
NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE

The bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is:
Being concerned about public opinion can bring
you much grief and misery and even shorten your life.
Stop worrying about everyone else’s ass and
you will be a lot happier and live longer!

 

Drug Tests for Welfare/Disability Benefits

    

This is so true and should be required for ones (at least some) that receive welfare and/or disability checks.

I DO HAVE TO PASS A URINE TEST FOR MY JOB….. BUT I AGREE 100%Like a lot of folks in this state, I have a job. I work, they pay me.
I pay my taxes and the government distributes my taxes as it sees fit.
In order to get that paycheck, I am required to pass a random urine test with which I have no problem. What I do have a problem with is the distribution of my taxes to people who don’t have to pass a urine test.
Shouldn’t one have to pass a urine test to get a welfare check because I have to pass one to earn it for them? Please understand, I have no problem with helping people get back on their feet. I do, on the other hand, have a problem with helping someone sitting on their ASS, drinking and/or doing drugs, while I work. 

Can you imagine how much money the state would save if people had to pass a urine test to get a public assistance check ?

This is an email forward. I used to work at a liquor store.  On the 1st and 3rd of every month, many people that received welfare and/or disability checks would come in to cash their checks.  Many of these people didn’t seem disabled to me at all.  Then I found out that some get a disability check for being an alcoholic.  WOW~and they would come into a liquor store to cash their check AND purchase liquor-alcohol.  Some of the people were cashing their welfare checks (usually meaning they didn’t have a job).  These same people would come in and cash checks written directly to them for WORK they had done…Working without the IRS knowing~getting paid “cash”…benefiting them and their “employers”.  How convenient.  I believe these people should pass random urine drug tests and if the government really wanted to catch some at fraud~hire an employee to sit at any liquor store that cashes checks on the 1st and 3rd of any month. 

What are your thoughts?

An Interview With an 80 Year Old Woman

     

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Email Forward~This is too funny!

The local news station was interviewing an 80-year-old lady because she
had just gotten married — for the fourth time.
The interviewer asked her questions about her life, about what it felt
like to be marrying again at 80, and then about her new husband’s
occupation.
“He’s a funeral director,” she answered.“Interesting, ” the newsman thought. He then asked her if she wouldn’t
mind telling him a little about her first three husbands and what they
did for a living.
She paused for a few moments, needing time to reflect on all those
years. After a short time, a smile came to her face and she answered
proudly, explaining that she’d first married a banker when she was in
her early 20s, then a circus ringmaster when in her 40s, later on a
preacher when in her 60s, and now in her 80s, a funeral director.
The interviewer looked at her, quite astonished, and asked why she had
married four men with such diverse careers.
She smiled and explained, “I married one for the money, two for the
show, three to get ready, and four to go.”

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Why We Love Kids


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Questions to Ponder

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  1. Can you cry under water?
  2. How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered? 
  3. Why do you have to put your two cents in.. but it’s only a penny for your thoughts? Where’s that extra penny going to?
  4. Once you’re in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?
  5. Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
  6. What disease did cured ham actually have?
  7. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
  8. Why is it that people say they slept like a baby when babies wake up like every two hours?
  9. If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?
  10. Why are you IN a movie, but you’re ON TV?
  11. Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
  12. Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They’re going to see you naked anyway.
  13. Why is bra singular and panties plural?
  14. Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp,
    which no decent human being would eat?
  15. If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?
  16. Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane ?
  17. If the professor on Gilligan’s Island can make a radio out of a coconut, why can’t he fix a hole in a boat?
  18. Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They’re both dogs!
  19. If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn’t he just buy dinner?
  20. If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?
  21. If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
  22. Do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
  23. Why did you just try singing the two songs above?
  24. Why do they call it an asteroid when it’s outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it’s in your butt?
  25. Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog’s face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

Do you have any more questions to ponder?

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Teachers Get Paid Too Much

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“I’m fed up with teachers and their hefty salary schedules. What we need here is a little perspective.

If I had my way, I’d pay these teachers myself-I’d pay them baby-sitting wages. That’s right-I’d rather give them $3 an hour out of my own pocket than pay my outrageous taxes.  I’m only going to pay them for five hours, not lunch or coffee breaks. That would be $15.00 a day. Each parent should pay $15 a day for these teachers to babysit their child. Even if they have more than one child, it’s still a lot cheaper than private daycare.

Now, how many children do they teach every day-maybe 20?  That’s $15×20=$300 a day.  But remember they only work 180 days a year! I’m not going to pay them for vacations! $300×180=$54,000. (Just a minute, I think my calculator needs new batteries.)

I know you teachers will say-What about those who have  10 years experience and a Master’s Degree? Well, maybe (to be fair) they could get the minimum wage, and instead of just babysitting, they could read the kids a story. We could round that off to about $5 an hour, times five hours, times 20 children. That’s $500 a day times 180 days. That’s $90,000….HUH?

Wait a minute, let’s get a little perspective here. Babysitting wages are too good for these teachers. Has anyone seen a salary schedule around here?”

        ~Anonymous~

WOW!  I like the way this person thinks!  May I get Babysitting Wages please?  I have 15 students in my class and Babysitting Wages would pay me $40,500 a year?  Is this first year salary?  I won’t see this much for many years, unless of course I do finish up my Master’s Degree anytime soon.  And the difference I do receive for my Master’s won’t pay off that tuition for many many more years to come.  I vote YES to teachers receiving Babysitting Wages!  Please vote now!

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