Wednesday, December 28, 2005

hUMOR For Dec. 28th!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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"Waist Deep"
While driving through Buffalo after a heavy snow storm, a motorist noted a cop, apparently waist deep in snow, directing traffic. Feeling sorry for him, the motorist called out "I'm sorry you have to work half buried in the snow."
The cop called back "Don't feel sorry for me, feel sorry for my horse!"
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Today's CleanQuote
"I was watching the Superbowl with my 92 year old grandfather. The team scored a touchdown. They showed the instant replay. He thought they scored another one. I was gonna tell him, but I figured the game *he* was watching was better."
- Steven Wright
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Today's Illustration. - "Self Control "
Flying to San Francisco from San Diego the other day, a passenger noticed that the "Fasten Seat Belts" sign was kept lit during the whole journey although the flight was a particularly smooth one.
Just before landing, he asked the stewardess about it.
"Well," she explained, up front there are 17 University of San Diego girls going to San Francisco for the weekend.
In back, there are 25 Navy recruits out on weekend liberty.
"What would you do?"
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Murphy and his wife, a middle-aged couple, went for a stroll in the park. They sit down on a bench to rest for awhile. Soon they overhear voices coming from a secluded spot nearby. Suddenly Mrs. Murphy realizes that a young man is about to propose.
Not wanting to be eavesdropping during such an intimate moment, she gently nudges her husband and whispers, "Whistle to let that young couple know that someone can hear them."
To which Murphy replies, "Whistle? Why should I whistle? Nobody whistled to warn me?"
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G.K. Chesterton and several other literary figures
were once asked what book they would prefer to have
with them if they were stranded on a desert island.

"The complete works of Shakespeare," said one writer
without hesitation.

"I choose the Bible," said another.

"How about you?" they asked Chesterton.

"I would choose Thomas' Guide to Practical
Shipbuilding," replied Chesterton.
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The rules for the Internet Detox Center are as
follows:

All words written must be in full form. (No shorthand)

Group Therapy is not to be mistaken as a chat room.

The words LOL, Bling, A/S/L, and Pic, Are forbidden.

When a person stalls, its not to be considered as
"Lagging."

The shakes that come in forms of an "Air Keyboard" are
to be treated ASAP.

Going to sleep is not to be mistaken as signing off.

One on One therapy is not to be mistaken as an
"Instant Message," "Personnel Massage," "Paging," Or
"Lofting."

All records must be file on paper using black ink. (No
computers allowed -- period.)

No "nicknames" allowed because of the "screen name"
factor.

When your treatment is over and you leave you are NOT
considered to have been "Booted."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A little kid's starting in kindergarten. The teacher
says, "Every day you have to put on a clean pair of
underwear." By Saturday, he couldn't get his pants on.
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A woman walks in a store to return a pair of
eyeglasses that she had purchased for her husband a
week before. "What seems to be the problem, madam?"

"I'm returning these glasses I bought for my husband.
He's still not seeing things my way."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Miss Simons agreed to be interviewed by Alec for the
school magazine.

"How old are you, Miss Simons?" asked Alec. "I'm not
going to tell you that."

"But Mr. Hill the technical teacher and Mrs. Hill the
math teacher told me how old they were."

"Oh well" said Miss Simon.

"I'm a year older than them."

The poor teacher was not happy when she read what Alec
had wrote. 'Miss Simons, our English teacher, is older
than the Hills.'
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More for the kids...

"When did you get your husband?"

"On Manday."

"And when did he select you for his bride?"

"On Chooseday."

"And you got married?"

"On Wedsday."

"And when the children came, when were they the
happiest?'

"On Toysday."

"But you finally had to consult a psychologist?"

"On Freuday."

"Because you found yourself feeling low?"

"On Sadderday."

"And were avoiding everybody?"

"On Shunday."
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I spent all my money on a limousine and have nothing
to chauffeur it.
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I just read that last year 4,153,237 people got
married. I don't want to start any trouble, but
shouldn't that be an even number?
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Why did the Siamese twins go to a shrink? They were
co-dependent.
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Thanks to Marti -- Crabby Old Woman

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small
hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that
she had nothing left of any value. Later, when the
nurses were going through her meager possessions, they
found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed
the staff that copies were made and distributed to
every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's
sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the
Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North
Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide
presentation has also been made based on her simple,
but eloquent, poem. And this little old Scottish lady,
with nothing left to give to the world, is now the
author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the
Internet:

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food
And makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
"I do wish you'd try!"

Who seems not to notice
The things that you do,
And forever is losing
A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not,
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen
With wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows
That I promised to keep

At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide
And a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other
With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me
To see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing
Young of their own,
And I think of the years
And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman
And nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age
Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.

I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.

I think of the years
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer . . . see ME!!

Rmember this poem when you next meet an old person.
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I'm Tired!

Christmas was finally over and the Pastor's wife dropped into an easy
chair saying, "Boy! Am I ever tried."

Her husband looked over at her and said, "I had to conduct two
special services last night, three today, and give a total of five
sermons. Why are you so tired?"

"Dear," she replied, "I had to listen to all of them."