<?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-34237121</id><updated>2011-12-14T16:43:02.888-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Jokes and More</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>107</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-7227947238224224600</id><published>2007-09-27T10:10:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T10:12:30.452-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;A middle aged woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital.While on the operating table, she had a near death experience. Seeing God,she asked," Is my time up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said, "No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have aface-lift, brow lift, lip enhancement, boob job, liposuction, and atummy tuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After her last operation, she was released from the hospital.While crossing the street on her way home, she was hit and killed by a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving in front of God, she demanded, "I thought you said I hadanother 40 years? Why didn't you pull me out of the path of the car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God replied,"Giiirrrlllllll, I didn't even recognize you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-7227947238224224600?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7227947238224224600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=7227947238224224600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7227947238224224600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7227947238224224600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/middle-aged-woman-had-heart-attack-and.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-8272073019983004367</id><published>2007-09-26T11:07:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T11:07:53.765-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;There once was a blind man who decided to visit Texas. When he arrived on the plane, he felt the seats and said, "Wow, these seats are big!" The person next to him answered, "Everything is big in Texas." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he finally arrived in Texas, he decided to visit a bar. Upon arriving in the bar, he ordered a beer and got a mug placed between his hands. He exclaimed, "Wow these mugs are big!" The bartender replied, "Everything is big in Texas." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;After a couple of beers, the blind man asked the bartender where the bathroom was located. The bartender replied, "Second door to the right." The blind man headed for the bathroom, but accidentally tripped over and skipped the second door. Instead, he entered the third door, which lead to the swimming pool and fell into the pool by accident. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Scared to death, the blind man started shouting,&lt;br /&gt;"Don't flush, don't flush!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-8272073019983004367?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8272073019983004367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=8272073019983004367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8272073019983004367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8272073019983004367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/there-once-was-blind-man-who-decided-to.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4876650896080816437</id><published>2007-09-25T09:52:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:53:16.585-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wink, Wink...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man with a winking problem is applying for a position as a sales representative for a large firm. The interviewer looks over his papers and says, "This is phenomenal. You've graduated from the best schools; your recommendations are wonderful, and your experience is unparalleled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Normally, we'd hire you without a second thought. However, a sales representative has a highly visible position, and we're afraid that your constant winking will scare off potential customers. I'm sorry....we can't hire you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But wait," he said. "If I take two aspirin, I'll stop winking!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really? Great! Show me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the applicant reaches into his jacket pocket and begins pulling out all sorts of condoms: red condoms, blue condoms, ribbed condoms, flavored condoms; finally, at the bottom, he finds a packet of aspirin. He tears it open, swallows the pills, and stops winking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the interviewer, "that's all well and good, but this is a respectable company, and we will not have our employees womanizing all over, the country!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Womanizing? What do you mean? I'm a happily married man!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well then, how do you explain all these condoms?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that," he sighed. "Have you ever walked into a pharmacy, winking, and asked for aspirin?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4876650896080816437?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4876650896080816437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4876650896080816437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4876650896080816437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4876650896080816437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/wink-wink.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-8938157988665239166</id><published>2007-09-24T06:34:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T06:38:21.189-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;One Liners That Make You Smile - Part Two...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?&lt;br /&gt;16. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!&lt;br /&gt;17. Wrinkled was not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up.&lt;br /&gt;18. Procrastinate now!&lt;br /&gt;19. I have a degree in liberal arts; do you want fries with that?20. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.&lt;br /&gt;21. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance&lt;br /&gt;22. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!&lt;br /&gt;23. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.&lt;br /&gt;24. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.&lt;br /&gt;25. Ham and eggs...A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.&lt;br /&gt;26. The trouble with life is there's no background music.&lt;br /&gt;27. The original point and click interface was a Smith &amp;amp; Wesson.&lt;br /&gt;28. I smile because I don't know what the heck is going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-8938157988665239166?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8938157988665239166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=8938157988665239166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8938157988665239166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8938157988665239166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-liners-that-make-you-smile-part-two.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-3789931221153914569</id><published>2007-09-20T09:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:32:17.683-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Things You Would Like To Say Out Loud At Work&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.&lt;br /&gt;Do I look like a people person?&lt;br /&gt;Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.&lt;br /&gt;How about never? Is never good for you?&lt;br /&gt;How do I set a laser printer to stun?&lt;br /&gt;I can see your point, but I still think you're nuts.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.&lt;br /&gt;I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a darn.&lt;br /&gt;I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.&lt;br /&gt;I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted a salary.&lt;br /&gt;I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.&lt;br /&gt;If I throw a stick, will you leave?&lt;br /&gt;I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.&lt;br /&gt;I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like English, but I can't understand a word you're saying.&lt;br /&gt;Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?&lt;br /&gt;Oh I get it... like humor... but different.&lt;br /&gt;Sarcasm is just one more service I offer.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.&lt;br /&gt;This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.&lt;br /&gt;Too many freaks, not enough circuses!&lt;br /&gt;Whatever kind of look you were going for you obviously missed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-3789931221153914569?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3789931221153914569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=3789931221153914569' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3789931221153914569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3789931221153914569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-you-would-like-to-say-out-loud.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4981271594035510167</id><published>2007-09-18T10:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T06:41:58.414-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;One Liners That Make You Smile - Part One...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;1. My husband and I divorced over religious differences. He thought he was God and I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. God must love stupid people; He made so many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4981271594035510167?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4981271594035510167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4981271594035510167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4981271594035510167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4981271594035510167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/1.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4590470535304574004</id><published>2007-09-12T11:17:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T11:18:05.261-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A little old lady answered a knock on the door one day, only to be confronted by a well-dressed young man carrying a vacuum cleaner.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Good morning,' said the young man. 'If I could take a couple of minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in &lt;br /&gt;High-Powered vacuum cleaners.' &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Go away!' said the old lady. 'I haven't got any money!' and she proceeded to close the door.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed wide open. 'Don't be too hasty!' he said. 'Not until you have at least seen my demonstration.' And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse shit onto her hallway carpet. 'If this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse shit from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.' &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The old lady stepped back and said, 'Well I hope you've got a damn good appetite, because they cut off my electricity this morning.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4590470535304574004?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4590470535304574004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4590470535304574004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4590470535304574004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4590470535304574004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/little-old-lady-answered-knock-on-door.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-3462869876722259970</id><published>2007-09-04T11:08:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T11:09:48.692-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Funny Company Slogans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Septic Tank Truck sign:&lt;br /&gt;"We're #1 in the #2 business."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;Sign over a Gynecologist's Office:&lt;br /&gt;"Dr. Jones, at your cervix."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At a Proctologist's door&lt;br /&gt;"To expedite your visit please back in."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Plumber's truck:&lt;br /&gt;"We repair what your husband fixed."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Plumber's truck:&lt;br /&gt;"Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;Pizza Shop Slogan:&lt;br /&gt;"7 days without pizza makes one weak."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At a Tire Shop in Milwaukee:&lt;br /&gt;"Invite us to your next blowout."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Plastic Surgeon's Office door:&lt;br /&gt;"Hello. Can we pick your nose?"&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At a Towing company:&lt;br /&gt;"We don't charge an arm and a leg. We want tows."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On an Electrician's truck:&lt;br /&gt;"Let us remove your shorts."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;In a Nonsmoking Area:&lt;br /&gt;"If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Maternity Room door:&lt;br /&gt;"Push. Push. Push."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At an Optometrist's Office&lt;br /&gt;"If you don't see what you're looking for, you've come to the right place."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Taxidermist's window:&lt;br /&gt;"We really know our stuff."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;In a Podiatrist's office:&lt;br /&gt;"Time wounds all heels."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;On a Fence:&lt;br /&gt;"Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At a Car Dealership:&lt;br /&gt;"The best way to get back on your feet - miss a car payment."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;Outside a Muffler Shop:&lt;br /&gt;"No appointment necessary. We hear you coming."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;In a Veterinarian's waiting room:&lt;br /&gt;"Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!"&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At the Electric Company:&lt;br /&gt;"We would be delighted if you send in your payment.&lt;br /&gt;However, if you don't, you will be."&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;In a Restaurant window:&lt;br /&gt;"Don't stand there and be hungry, Come on in and get fed up."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;In the front yard of a Funeral Home:&lt;br /&gt;"Drive carefully. We'll wait.."&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;br /&gt;At a Propane Filling Station,&lt;br /&gt;"Tank heaven for little grills."&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;And don't forget the sign at a Chicago Radiator Shop:&lt;br /&gt;"Best place in town to take a leak."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-3462869876722259970?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3462869876722259970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=3462869876722259970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3462869876722259970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3462869876722259970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/09/funny-company-slogans-on-septic-tank.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4884832203165021324</id><published>2007-08-29T12:20:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T12:21:48.371-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Do YOU Know Your State Motto?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alabama: Heck Yes, We Have Electricity&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Alaska: 11,623 Eskimos Can't Be Wrong!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Arizona: But It's A Dry Heat&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Arkansas: Literacy Ain't Everything&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;California: By 30, Our Women Have More Plastic Than Your Honda&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Colorado: If You Don't Ski, Don't Bother&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Connecticut: Like Massachusetts, Only The Kennedy's Don't Own It Yet&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Delaware: We Really Do Like The Chemicals In Our Water&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Florida: Ask Us About Our Grandkids&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Georgia: We Put The "Fun" In Fundamentalist Extremism&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Hawaii: Haka Tiki Mou Sha'ami Leeki Toru (Death To Mainland Scum, Leave Your Money)&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Idaho: More Than Just Potatoes ... Well Okay, We're Not, But The Potatoes Are Real Good&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Illinois: Please Don't Pronounce the "S"&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Indiana: 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Iowa: We Do Amazing Things With Corn&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Kansas: First Of The Rectangle States&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Kentucky: Five Million People; Fifteen Last Names&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Louisiana: We're Not ALL Drunken Cajun Wackos, But That's Our Tourism Campaign&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Maine: We're Really Cold, But We Have Cheap Lobster&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Maryland: If You Can Dream It, We Can Tax It&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Massachusetts: Our Taxes Are Lower Than Sweden's (For Most Tax Brackets)&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Michigan: First Line Of Defense From The Canadians&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Minnesota: 10,000 Lakes... And 10,000,000,000,000 Mosquitoes&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Mississippi: Come And Feel Better About Your Own State&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Missouri: Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars At Work&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Montana: Land Of The Big Sky, The Unabomber, Right-wing Crazies, and Little Else&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Nebraska: Ask About Our State Motto Contest&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Nevada: Prostitutes and Poker!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;New Hampshire: Go Away And Leave Us Alone&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;New Jersey: You Want A ##$%##! Motto? I Got Yer ##$%##! Motto Right Here!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;New Mexico: Lizards Make Excellent Pets&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;New York: You Have The Right To Remain Silent; You Have The Right To an Attorney&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;North Carolina: Tobacco Is A Vegetable&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;North Dakota: We Really Are One Of The 50 States!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Ohio: At Least We're Not Michigan&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Oklahoma: Like The Play, Only No Singing&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Oregon: Spotted Owl... It's What's For Dinner...&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Pennsylvania: Cook With Coal&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Rhode Island: We're Not REALLY An Island&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;South Carolina: Remember The Civil War? We Didn’t Actually Surrender&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;South Dakota: Closer Than North Dakota&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Tennessee: The Educashun State&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Texas: Si' Hablo Ing'les (Yes, I Speak English)&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Utah: Our Jesus Is Better Than Your Jesus&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Vermont: Yep&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Virginia: Who Says Government Stiffs And Slack jaw Yokels Don't Mix?&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Washington: Help! Nerds And Slackers Overrun Us!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Washington, D.C.: Wanna Be Mayor?&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;West Virginia: One Big Happy Family... Really!&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Wisconsin: Come Cut The Cheese&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Wyoming: Where Men Are Men ... and The Sheep Are Scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4884832203165021324?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4884832203165021324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4884832203165021324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4884832203165021324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4884832203165021324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/08/do-you-know-your-state-motto-alabama.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-8857064415913235888</id><published>2007-08-21T12:52:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T12:53:08.546-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This guy needs a job and decides to apply at the zoo. As it happened, their star attraction, a gorilla, had passed away the night before and they had carefully preserved his hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They tell this guy that they'll pay him well if he would dress up in the gorillas skin and pretend to be the gorilla so people will keep coming to the zoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the guy has his doubts, but hHe needs the money, so he puts on the skin and goes out into the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people all cheer to see him. He plays up to the audience and they just eat it up. This isn't so bad, he thinks, and he starts really putting on a show, jumping around, beating his chest and roaring, swinging around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one acrobatic attempt, though, he loses his balance and crashes through some safety netting, landing square in the middle of the lion cage! As he lies there stunned, the lion roars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's terrified and starts screaming, "Help, Help, Help!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lion races over to him, places his paws on his chest and hisses, "Shut up or we'll BOTH lose our jobs!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-8857064415913235888?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8857064415913235888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=8857064415913235888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8857064415913235888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8857064415913235888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/08/this-guy-needs-job-and-decides-to-apply.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-2009621357737442224</id><published>2007-08-09T10:47:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T10:49:44.096-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;The other night, I was invited out for a night with "the girls." I told my husband that I would be home by midnight. "I promise," were my last words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;The hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily and around 3 a.m. we piled into a cab and headed to our respective homes, quite inebriated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I walked through the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Realizing that my husband would probably wake up to this, I quickly cuckooed another 9 times. I was quit pleased with myself for coming up with such a quick witted solution to cover up my tardiness. Even with my impaired judgment, I could count 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos equaled 12 cuckoos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;The next morning, my husband asked me what time I got in, and confidently, I replied, "Midnight...like I promised." He didn't even raise and eyebrow and went on reading the morning paper! Phew! Got away with that one!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;After a moment, he then replied, "I think we might need a new cuckoo clock."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;A bit nervously, I asked him why, to which he responded:&lt;br /&gt;"Well, last night our clock cuckooed 3 times, then said, 'Oh, crap,' cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-2009621357737442224?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2009621357737442224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=2009621357737442224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2009621357737442224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2009621357737442224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/08/other-night-i-was-invited-out-for-night.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-5528452275693196703</id><published>2007-08-06T09:03:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T09:04:25.653-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, the Pope decides to kick all the Jews out of Italy. Obviously, there is a huge uproar. The Pope decides to quell them by having a debate: The Jews choose a representative, and if he beats the Pope in the debate, then the Jews can stay. After some deliberation, the Jews find a wisened old Rabbi named Moisha. There is only one problem: Moisha speaks not a word of Italian and the Pope speaks no Yiddish. So, it is decided that it will be a silent debate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the day of the debate, the two men face off and stare each other down for a good 5 minutes. Finally, the Pope raises three fingers. Moisha reponds by raising one. The Pope pauses for a moment, then waves his finger in a wide circle around his head. Moisha quickly responds by pointing to the ground. A longer pause, and finally the Pope brings out a chalice and wafer. Moisha produces an apple. The Pope stops the debate and declares Moisha the winner. The Jews can stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, the Pope is surrounded by the cardinals who want to understand what had happened. The Pope sighed: "He was just too clever for me, I could not beat him, so I had to give up. First, I held up three fingers to represent the trinity, then he put up one, to reperesent the one god our faiths share. Then, I pointed around to indicate that God is everywhere. He then pointed down to indicate that God was also with us right there at that moment. Finally I brought out the chalice and wafter to represent God's forgivness for our sins, but he took out an Apple, representing the original sin. At that point, I could see there was no point in continuing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other side of town, the Jews had gathered around Moisha. "What happened?" "How did you do it?" Moisha waved a hand to quiet them. "I really don't know exactly. First, he tells me that all the Jews have to be gone in three days. I tell him to go screw himself. Then, he tells me that all the Jews have to go. I tell him that we're staying right here." A young Jew asked excitedly "What happened next?" Moisha replied "I'm not sure. He took out his lunch, so I took out mine."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-5528452275693196703?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5528452275693196703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=5528452275693196703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5528452275693196703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5528452275693196703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/08/so-pope-decides-to-kick-all-jews-out-of.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-3207071002926282102</id><published>2007-07-30T11:11:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T11:13:26.881-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A blind man enters a Ladies Bar by mistake. He finds his way to a barstool and orders a drink. After sitting there for awhile, he yells to the bartender,"Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?" The bar immediately falls absolutely quiet. In a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, sir, I think it is just fair - giving that you are blind - that you should know five things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - The bartender is a blonde girl.&lt;br /&gt;2 - The bouncer is a blonde girl.&lt;br /&gt;3 - I'm a 6 feet tall, 160 LB. blonde woman with a black belt in karate.&lt;br /&gt;4 - The woman sitting next to me is blonde and is a professional weightlifter.&lt;br /&gt;5 - The lady to your right is a blonde and is a professional wrestler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now think about it seriously, Mister. Do you still wanna tell that joke?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blind man thinks for a second, shakes his head, and declares,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nah, ......................................................&lt;br /&gt;Not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-3207071002926282102?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3207071002926282102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=3207071002926282102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3207071002926282102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3207071002926282102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/blind-man-enters-ladies-bar-by-mistake.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-6295905444649981526</id><published>2007-07-25T07:30:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T07:31:43.099-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what the criterion was which defined whether or not a patient should be institutionalized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup, and a bucket to the patient, and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No." said the Director, "A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-6295905444649981526?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6295905444649981526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=6295905444649981526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6295905444649981526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6295905444649981526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/during-visit-to-mental-asylum-visitor.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4879289469240661675</id><published>2007-07-20T12:13:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T12:15:24.841-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Mr. Bean chatting with his friend...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Friend: How was the tape you borrowed from me, is it OK? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Mr. Bean: What do you mean OK? I thought it's a horror film, but I didn't see any picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Friend: What tape did you take anyway?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Mr. Bean: Head Cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4879289469240661675?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4879289469240661675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4879289469240661675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4879289469240661675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4879289469240661675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/mr.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-4521783540113511763</id><published>2007-07-19T07:35:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T07:38:26.956-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Sick of High Gas Prices?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sister Mary, who worked for a home health agency, was out making her rounds visiting homebound patients when she ran out of gas. As luck would have it, a gas station was just a block away. She walked to the station to borrow a gas can and buy some gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attendant told her that the only gas can he owned had been loaned out, but she could wait until it was returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the nun was on the way to see a patient, she decided not to wait and walked back to her car. She looked for something in the car that she could fill with gas and spotted the bedpan she was taking to the patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always resourceful, she carried the bedpan to the station, filled it with gas, and carried the full bedpan back to her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she was pouring the gas into her tank, two men watched from across the street. One of them turned to the other and said, "If it starts, I'm converting."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-4521783540113511763?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4521783540113511763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=4521783540113511763' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4521783540113511763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/4521783540113511763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/sick-of-high-gas-prices-sister-mary-who.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-3376215073430226060</id><published>2007-07-17T11:17:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T11:17:43.992-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Beauty and The Beast... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;When Bob found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening he went to a singles bar where he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Her natural beauty took his breath away. "I may look like just an ordinary man," he said as he walked up to her, "but in just a week or two my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 million dollars."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Three days later, she became his stepmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-3376215073430226060?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3376215073430226060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=3376215073430226060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3376215073430226060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3376215073430226060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/beauty-and-beast.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-2797221074992888697</id><published>2007-07-03T06:19:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T06:27:56.588-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Fourth of July Groaners&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed Jon with the English king in 1776?&lt;br /&gt;King George the Nerd!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What dance was very popular in 1776?&lt;br /&gt;Indepen-dance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which one of Washington's officers had the best sense of humour?&lt;br /&gt;Laughayette!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is a hungry boys favourite picnic event?&lt;br /&gt;The snack race!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How was the food at the Fourth of July picnic?&lt;br /&gt;"The hot dogs were bad and the brats were wurst!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did Washington say as he crossed the Delaware?&lt;br /&gt;"Next time I'm going to reserve a seat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: "Why did Washington chop down the cherry tree with his hatchet?"&lt;br /&gt;Student: "Because his mom wouldn't let him play with the chain saw!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: "The Declaration of Independence was written in Philadelphia. True or false?"&lt;br /&gt;Student: "False! It was written in ink!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did Washington win the battle of Trenton?&lt;br /&gt;Because the enemy soldiers were Hessian around!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed a monster with one of Washington's officers?&lt;br /&gt;Baron von Steupid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has four legs, a shiny nose, and fought for England?&lt;br /&gt;Rudolph the Redcoat Reindeer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What march would you play at a jungle parade?&lt;br /&gt;"Tarzan Stripes Forever"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed a monster with a redcoat?&lt;br /&gt;A bigger target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did the British soldiers wear red coats?&lt;br /&gt;So they could hide in the tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is the Liberty Bell like a dropped Easter egg?&lt;br /&gt;Because they're both cracked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: "Who wrote `Oh say, can you see?"'&lt;br /&gt;Student: "An eye doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is a healthy person like the United States?&lt;br /&gt;They both have good constitutions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed Patrick Henry with a hungry boy?&lt;br /&gt;A patriot who says, "Give me lasagne or give me death!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has feathers, webbed feet, and certain inalienable rights?&lt;br /&gt;The Ducklaration of Independence!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did the duck say "Bang!"?&lt;br /&gt;Because he was a firequacker!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What cat said, "The British are coming! The British are coming!"?&lt;br /&gt;Paw Revere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the craziest battle of the Revolutionary War?&lt;br /&gt;The Battle of Bonkers Hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was Thomas Jefferson's favourite dessert?&lt;br /&gt;Monti jello!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: "Which son of old Virginia wrote the Declaration of Independence?"&lt;br /&gt;Student: "I think it was Thomas Jeffer's son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did King George think of the American colonists?&lt;br /&gt;He thought they were revolting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why were the early American settlers like ants?&lt;br /&gt;Because they lived in colonies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What famous pig signed the Declaration of Independence?&lt;br /&gt;John Hamcock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did George Washington say to his army at Valley Forge?&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, men. The flights to Florida are all booked up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed the American national bird with Snoopy?&lt;br /&gt;A bald beagle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed a colonial hairpiece with a teepee?&lt;br /&gt;A powdered wigwam!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's red, white, blue, and green?&lt;br /&gt;A patriotic pickle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did the visitor say as he left the Statue of Liberty?&lt;br /&gt;"Keep in torch!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's big, cracked, and carries your luggage?&lt;br /&gt;The Liberty Bellhop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ghost haunted King George III?&lt;br /&gt;The spirit of '76!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you hear about the cartoonist in the Continental Army?&lt;br /&gt;He was a Yankee doodler!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you get if you crossed a monster with Yankee Doodle?&lt;br /&gt;Yankee Doofus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's red, white, blue and green?&lt;br /&gt;A seasick Uncle Sam!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-2797221074992888697?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2797221074992888697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=2797221074992888697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2797221074992888697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2797221074992888697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-would-you-get-if-you-crossed-jon.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-3776900721578030726</id><published>2007-06-21T10:37:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T10:39:15.113-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Giving Your Dad A Helping Hand...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A clergyman walking down a country lane and sees a young farmer struggling to load hay back onto a cart after it had fallen off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You look hot, my son," said the cleric. "why don't you rest a moment, and I'll give you a hand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No thanks," said the young man. "My father wouldn't like it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't be silly," the minister said. "Everyone is entitled to a break. Come and have a drink of water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the young man protested that his father would be upset. Losing his patience, the clergyman said, "Your father must be a real slave driver. Tell me where I can find him and I'll give him a piece of my mind!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," replied the young farmer, "he's under the load of hay."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-3776900721578030726?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3776900721578030726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=3776900721578030726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3776900721578030726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/3776900721578030726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/06/giving-your-dad-helping-hand.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-493137155863252928</id><published>2007-06-01T10:32:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T10:34:04.216-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;One should love animals. They are so tasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Save water. Shower with your girlfriend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Behind every successful man, there is a woman. And behind every unsuccessful man, there are two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Success is a relative term. It brings so many relatives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Love is photogenic. It needs darkness to develop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Children in backseats cause accidents. Accidents in backseats cause children.&lt;br /&gt;Your future depends on your dreams. So go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;″Hard work never killed anybody." But why take the risk？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;God made relatives； Thank God we can choose our friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;The more you learn, the more you know. The more you know, the more you forget. The more you forget, the less you know. So why bother to learn？&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-493137155863252928?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/493137155863252928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=493137155863252928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/493137155863252928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/493137155863252928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/06/one-should-love-animals.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-5094028462204671255</id><published>2007-05-21T13:26:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T13:27:20.199-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_f5HvXyxBjHA/RlIqzSqV4II/AAAAAAAAAAw/ioJE6SntaLY/s1600-h/11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067159591416356994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_f5HvXyxBjHA/RlIqzSqV4II/AAAAAAAAAAw/ioJE6SntaLY/s400/11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hot Air Balloons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-5094028462204671255?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5094028462204671255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=5094028462204671255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5094028462204671255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5094028462204671255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/05/hot-air-balloons.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_f5HvXyxBjHA/RlIqzSqV4II/AAAAAAAAAAw/ioJE6SntaLY/s72-c/11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-8664963192907071054</id><published>2007-05-08T12:16:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T12:17:47.511-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How To Handle a Traffic Stop...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A police officer pulls a guy over for speeding and has the following exchange:&lt;br /&gt;Officer: May I see your driver's license?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: I don't have one. I had it suspended when I got my 5th DUI.&lt;br /&gt;Officer: May I see the registration for this vehicle?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: It's not my car. I stole it.&lt;br /&gt;Officer: This car is stolen?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: That's right. But come to think of it, I think I saw the owner's card in the glove box when I was putting my gun in there.&lt;br /&gt;Officer: There's a gun in the glove box?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: Yes sir, that's where I put it after I shot the owner of this car and stuffed his body in thetrunk.&lt;br /&gt;Officer: There's a BODY in the TRUNK?!?!&lt;br /&gt;Driver: Yes sir.&lt;br /&gt;Hearing this, the officer immediately called his captain. The car was quickly surrounded by police, and the captain approached the driver to handle the tense situation. The Captain slowly approached the driver...&lt;br /&gt;Captain: Sir, can I see you license? Driver: Sure, here it is. It was valid.&lt;br /&gt;Captain: Who's car is this?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: It's mine, officer. Here's the registration card.&lt;br /&gt;Captain: Could you slowly open the glove box so I can see if there's a gun in there?&lt;br /&gt;Driver: Yes sir, but there's no gun in it.&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough, there was nothing in the glove box.&lt;br /&gt;Captain: Would you mind opening your trunk? I was told there was a body in it.&lt;br /&gt;Driver: No problem.&lt;br /&gt;The trunk is opened: no body.&lt;br /&gt;Captain: I don't understand. The officer who stopped you said you told him you didn't have a license, stole the car, had a gun in the glovebox, and that there was a body in the trunk.&lt;br /&gt;Driver: Yeah, and I'll bet he told you that I was speeding, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-8664963192907071054?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8664963192907071054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=8664963192907071054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8664963192907071054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8664963192907071054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-to-handle-traffic-stop.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-261396055978483736</id><published>2007-04-26T12:27:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T12:27:28.188-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A woman goes to the doctor for her yearly physical. The nurse starts with certain basic items.&lt;br /&gt;"How much do you weigh?" she asks.&lt;br /&gt;"115," she says.&lt;br /&gt;The nurse puts her on the scale.&lt;br /&gt;It turns out her weight is 140.&lt;br /&gt;The nurse asks, "Your height?"&lt;br /&gt;"5 foot 8," she says.&lt;br /&gt;The nurse checks and sees that she only measures 5' 5".&lt;br /&gt;She then takes her blood pressure.&lt;br /&gt;And tells the woman it is very high.&lt;br /&gt;"Of course it's high!" she screams: "When I came in here I was tall and slender!&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm short and fat!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-261396055978483736?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/261396055978483736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=261396055978483736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/261396055978483736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/261396055978483736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/04/woman-goes-to-doctor-for-her-yearly.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-8840853171691574833</id><published>2007-04-16T12:02:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T12:03:10.322-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If all tax advisers were laid end to end, they would not reach an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In tax rules, miscellaneous is always the largest category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where there's a will there's a tax shelter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A penny saved is bound to be taxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a tax solution, but I admire the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the chance of getting a tax audit is 1000 to 1, why is it 50/50 that it will be you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A detailed analysis of tax strategy usually reveals that the best time to take positive tax action is last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being sent tax returns by pessimistic tax inspectors--they never expect to get them back&lt;br /&gt;A tax inspector is someone who persists in holding his own view even after we've enlightened him with ours.&lt;br /&gt;There are two sides to a debate on tax: until you take one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For every tax problem there is a solution which is straightforward, uncomplicated and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Due to taxation, politicians find it increasingly difficult to reconcile their net incomes with their gross habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Golf is a lot like taxes -- you drive hard to get to the green and then wind up in the hole.&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it appropriate that the month of the tax begins with April Fool's Day, and ends with cries of "May Day!"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do your tax return before breakfast and nothing worse will happen to you all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fool and his money are soon parted. The rest of us wait until income tax time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Washington never told a lie, but then he never had to file a Form 1040.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-8840853171691574833?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8840853171691574833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=8840853171691574833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8840853171691574833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/8840853171691574833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/04/if-all-tax-advisers-were-laid-end-to.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-2490086764481798675</id><published>2007-04-06T12:40:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T12:42:08.351-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;A blonde decides to try horseback riding, despite having had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion. It gallops along at a steady rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seemingly oblivious to its slipping rider. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try and throw herself tosafety. Unfortunately for the blonde, her foot becomes entangled in the stirrup and is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground again and again. Her head is battered against the ground, mere moments away from unconsciousness when...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Stan the Walmart manager runs out to shut the horse off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-2490086764481798675?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2490086764481798675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=2490086764481798675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2490086764481798675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2490086764481798675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/04/blonde-decides-to-try-horseback-riding.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-5509859099018081323</id><published>2007-04-02T13:10:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T13:11:53.899-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;A passenger in a taxi leaned over to ask the driver a question and tapped him on the shoulder. The driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up over the curb, and stopped just inches from a large plate glass window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few moments everything was silent in the cab, when then the still shaking driver said, "I'm sorry but you scared the daylights out of me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frightened passenger apologized to the driver and said he didn't realize a mere tap on the shoulder could frighten him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver replied, "No, no, I'm sorry, it's entirely my fault. Today is my first day driving a cab. I've been driving a hearse for the last 25 years."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-5509859099018081323?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5509859099018081323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=5509859099018081323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5509859099018081323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/5509859099018081323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/04/passenger-in-taxi-leaned-over-to-ask.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-1664839306828952120</id><published>2007-03-27T13:14:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T13:14:42.602-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>An engineer died and came to Heaven. At St. Peter's gate, the engineer said, "St. Peter, Please let me go into Heaven."St Peter checked through his list and replied, "Sorry, you are not on the list." "but, I am suppose to be in heaven!" The engineer disappointed."You are not on the list." St Peter shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the engineer came to the hell. Satan said, "So they don't want you, then come on in."Not long after the engineer got in hell, he helped the hell get electricity, air conditioning and running water. God makes his regular monthly call to the hell, he asks Satan,"How is everything down there?"Satan said, " Really good. Thanks for the engineer, we have electricity, air conditioning and running water now.'God said, 'Then he belongs to heaven. I want him in heaven"Satan said, "You didn't take him, now you can't have him."God said, "I will sue you!"Satan laughed: " Where can you find a lawyer in heaven?!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-1664839306828952120?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1664839306828952120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=1664839306828952120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/1664839306828952120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/1664839306828952120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/03/engineer-died-and-came-to-heaven.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-6519697314063078168</id><published>2007-03-20T13:25:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T13:25:55.522-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Do you want to go to heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Murphy walked into a pub in Donegal, and said to the first man he meets, "Do you want to go to heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;The man said, "I do Father."&lt;br /&gt;The priest said, "Then leave this pub right now!" and approached a second man. "Do you want to got to heaven?""Certainly, Father," was the man's reply.&lt;br /&gt;"Then leave this den of Satan," said the priest, as he walked up to O'Toole.&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want to go to heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, I don't Father," O'Toole replied.&lt;br /&gt;The priest looked him right in the eye, and said, "You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;O'Toole smiled, "Oh, when I die, yes, Father. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-6519697314063078168?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6519697314063078168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=6519697314063078168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6519697314063078168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6519697314063078168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/03/do-you-want-to-go-to-heaven-father.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-7995537920047459152</id><published>2007-03-16T13:35:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T13:35:56.201-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Take note…     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a virus being passed around electronically, orally, and by  hand. This virus is called Worm-Overload-Recreational-Killer (WORK).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you receive WORK from any of your colleagues, your boss, or anyone  else via any means DO NOT TOUCH IT. This virus will wipe out your  private life completely. If you should come into contact with WORK put  your jacket on and take two good friends to the nearest grocery store.  Purchase the antidote known as Work-Isolating-Neutralizer-Extract  (WINE) or Bothersome-Employer-Elimination-Rebooter (BEER). Take the antidote repeatedly until WORK has been completely eliminated from your system.  You should forward this warning to 5 friends. If you do not have 5  friends, you have already been infected and WORK is controlling your  life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to the stores!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-7995537920047459152?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7995537920047459152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=7995537920047459152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7995537920047459152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7995537920047459152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/03/take-note-there-is-virus-being-passed.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-6073058036746189438</id><published>2007-02-27T14:38:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T14:39:32.585-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Outside a local neighborhood bar, a police patrol routinely parked outside on the weekends for the obvious reason that several of its patrons had the unfortunate habit of driving home inebriated. On this particular night, the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes with the officer quietly observing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his own car which he fell into. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a dry night), flicked the hazard flasher on and off, tooted the horn, and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little, and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as more patrons left in their vehicles. At last he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive slowly down the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a breathalyzer test. To his amazement, the breathalyzer indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all!Dumbfounded, the officer said, "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the Police Station. This breathalyzer equipment must be broken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I doubt it," said the man, "Tonight, I'm the designated decoy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-6073058036746189438?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6073058036746189438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=6073058036746189438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6073058036746189438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/6073058036746189438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/02/outside-local-neighborhood-bar-police.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-1050861808731978114</id><published>2007-02-23T13:51:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T13:52:57.866-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;This man was sitting quietly reading his paper one morning, peacefully enjoying himself, when his wife sneaks up behind him and whacks him on the back of his head with a huge frying pan.&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "What was that for?"&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "What was that piece of paper in your pants pocket with the name Barbara Ann written on it?"&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "Oh honey, remember two weeks ago when I went to the horse races? Barbara Ann was the name of one of the horses I bet on."&lt;br /&gt;The wife looked all satisfied, apologizes, and goes off do work around the house.&lt;br /&gt;Three days later he is once again sitting in his chair reading and she repeats the frying pan swatting.&lt;br /&gt;MAN: "What the heck was that for this time?"&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "Your horse called."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-1050861808731978114?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1050861808731978114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=1050861808731978114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/1050861808731978114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/1050861808731978114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/02/this-man-was-sitting-quietly-reading.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-2567827762584090331</id><published>2007-02-21T12:46:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T12:46:38.161-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The phone rings and the lady of the house answers, "Hello."&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Ward, please." "Speaking"&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Ward, this is Doctor Jones at the Medical Testing Laboratory.&lt;br /&gt;When your doctor sent your husband's biopsy to the lab yesterday, a biopsy from another Mr. Ward arrived as well, and we are now uncertain which one is your husband's. Frankly the results are either bad or terrible."&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean?" Mrs. Ward asks nervously.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for AIDS. We can't tell which your husband's is."&lt;br /&gt;"That's dreadful! Can't you do the test again?" questioned Mrs. Ward.&lt;br /&gt;"Normally we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what am I supposed to do now?"&lt;br /&gt;"The people at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-2567827762584090331?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2567827762584090331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=2567827762584090331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2567827762584090331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/2567827762584090331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/02/phone-rings-and-lady-of-house-answers.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-7209779654182486142</id><published>2007-02-15T14:36:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T14:38:50.003-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A new supermarket opened near my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has an automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before it goes on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of fresh rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you approach the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and experience the scent of fresh hay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The veggie department features the smell of fresh buttered corn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't buy toilet paper there any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-7209779654182486142?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7209779654182486142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=7209779654182486142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7209779654182486142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/7209779654182486142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/02/new-supermarket-opened-near-my-house.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-117009499570436746</id><published>2007-01-29T08:22:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T08:27:59.470-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Now that's training...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/638/3770/1600/714257/walkingdogs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/638/3770/320/697296/walkingdogs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-117009499570436746?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/117009499570436746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=117009499570436746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/117009499570436746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/117009499570436746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/now-thats-training.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-117009488117335787</id><published>2007-01-29T08:21:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T08:21:21.190-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Sermon I think this Mom will never forget.... this particular Sunday sermon..."Dear Lord," the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his upturned face. "Without you, we are but dust..." He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter who was listening leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little four year old girl voice, "Mom, what is butt dust?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-117009488117335787?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/117009488117335787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=117009488117335787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/117009488117335787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/117009488117335787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/sermon-i-think-this-mom-will-never.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116975512629954225</id><published>2007-01-25T09:58:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T09:58:46.310-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Horsing Around...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian and his two friends are hanging out at a bar. They're talking about life, sports and other guy things when the conversation finally gets around to to their marriages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first friend says: "I think my wife is having an affair with the electrician. The other day I came home and found wire cutters under our bed and they weren't mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His second friend says: "You know what? I think my wife is having an affair with the plummer the other day I found a wrench under the bed and it wasn't mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian, surprised by the candor of his friends, decides to come forth with his marital concerns: "I think my wife is having an affair with a horse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both his friends look at him, or course, with utter disbelief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No I'm serious. The other day I came home and found a jockey under our bed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116975512629954225?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116975512629954225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116975512629954225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116975512629954225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116975512629954225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/horsing-around.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116923818483075551</id><published>2007-01-19T10:22:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T10:23:04.846-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;Give a Man a Fish... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;One day, a rather inebriated ice fisherman drilled a hole in the ice and peered deeply into the hole examining it for fish. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed, "There are no fish down there."&lt;br /&gt;Surprised, but not discouraged, the fisherman continued on. He walked several yards away, drilled another hole and peered deeply into it. Again, out of nowhere, a voice suddenly boomed, "There's no fish down there."&lt;br /&gt;A bit nervous now, the fisherman managed to continue. He walked about 50 yards away and drilled yet another hole, peered long and deep into the hole, hoping for some fish. Suddenly, the voice boomed again, this time louder than ever, "There's no fish down there!!!"&lt;br /&gt;The fisherman, quite frightened at this point, looked up into the sky and asked, "God!? Is that you?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, you idiot," the voice said. "It's the rink manager."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116923818483075551?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116923818483075551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116923818483075551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116923818483075551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116923818483075551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/give-man-fish.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116829365583186488</id><published>2007-01-08T12:00:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T12:00:55.846-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A married couple was asleep when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. The wife (undoubtedly an airhead), picked up the phone, listened a moment and said, "How should I know, that's 200 miles from here!" and hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband said, "Who was that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife replied, "I don't know, some woman wanting to know if the coast is clear."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116829365583186488?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116829365583186488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116829365583186488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116829365583186488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116829365583186488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/married-couple-was-asleep-when-phone.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116804552897016960</id><published>2007-01-05T15:04:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T15:05:28.983-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mr. Bean about Marriage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend: How many women do you believe must a man marry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: 16&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend: Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: Because the priest says 4 richer, 4 poorer, 4 better and 4 worse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116804552897016960?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116804552897016960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116804552897016960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116804552897016960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116804552897016960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/mr.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116794997281523423</id><published>2007-01-04T12:32:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T12:32:52.826-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;You Can't Take It With You...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;There once was an old penny pincher who had no friends. Just before he died he asked his doctor, lawyer, and pastor to gather around him at bedside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;"I have always heard that you can't take it with you. But I want to disprove that theory," he said. "I have $90,000 under my mattress, and when I die, just before they throw the dirt on me at my burial, I want you each to toss in an envelope with $30,000 enclosed."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;The three attended the funeral and each threw his envelope in the grave. On the way back from the cemetery, the pastor said, "I must confess. I needed $10,000 for my new church, so I only threw in $20,000." The doctor then said, "I must confess too. I needed $20,000 for a new hospital I was opening up, so I only threw in $10,000."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;The lawyer looked at them both and shook his head. He then said, "Gentlemen, I'm surprised, shocked, and ashamed of you. I don't see how you could dare to go against that man's final wish. I mean, I threw in my personal check for the full amount?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116794997281523423?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116794997281523423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116794997281523423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116794997281523423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116794997281523423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/you-cant-take-it-with-you.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116786918589690736</id><published>2007-01-03T14:05:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T14:06:25.906-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Useful Perspective&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:There would be:57 Asians21 Europeans14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south8 Africans52 would be female48 would be male70 would be non-white30 would be white70 would be non-Christian30 would be Christian89 would be heterosexual11 would be homosexual6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealthand all 6 would be from the United States.80 would live in substandard housing70 would be unable to read50 would suffer from malnutrition1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth1(yes, only 1) would have a college education1 would own a computerWhen one considers our world from such a compressedperspective, the need for acceptance, understanding andeducation becomes glaringly apparent.The following is also something to ponder...If you woke up this morning with more health thanillness...you are more blessed than the million who willnot survive this week.If you have never experienced the danger of battle, theloneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or thepangs of starvation...you are ahead of 500 millionpeople in the world.If you can attend a church meeting without fear ofharassment, arrest, torture, or death...you are moreblessed than three billion people in the world.If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back,a roof overhead and a place to sleep...you are richer than75% of this world.If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and sparechange in a dish someplace...you are among the top 8%of the worlds wealthy.If your parents are still alive and still married...you arevery rare, even in the United States and Canada.If you can read this message, you just received a doubleblessing in that someone was thinking of you, andfurthermore, you are more blessed than over two billionpeople in the world that cannot read at all.Someone once said: What goes around comes around.Sooooo.............Work like you don't need the money.Love like you've never been hurt.Dance like nobody's watching.Sing like nobody’s listening.Live like it's Heaven on Earth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116786918589690736?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116786918589690736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116786918589690736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116786918589690736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116786918589690736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/useful-perspective-if-we-could-shrink.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116778423910940672</id><published>2007-01-02T14:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T14:30:39.120-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In a recent issue of Meat &amp;amp; Poultry magazine, editors quoted from ''Feathers,'' the publication of the California Poultry Industry Federation, telling the following story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems the US Federal Aviation Administration has a unique device for testing the strength of windshields on airplanes. The device is a gun that launches a dead chicken at a plane's windshield at approximately the speed the airplane flies. The theory is that if the windshield can withstand the carcass test impact, it'll survive a real collision with a bird during flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the British were very interested in this and wanted to test a windshield on a brand new, high-speed train they were developing. They borrowed the FAA's chicken launcher, loaded a chicken and fired. The ballistic chicken not only shattered the windshield, but went through the engineer's seat, broke an instrument panel, and was imbedded in the back wall of the engine cab. The British were stunned and asked the FAA to review the test to see if everything was done correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The FAA reviewed the data thoroughly and had one recommendation: ''Use a thawed chicken.''&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116778423910940672?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116778423910940672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116778423910940672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116778423910940672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116778423910940672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2007/01/in-recent-issue-of-meat-poultry.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116683134531193697</id><published>2006-12-22T13:48:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T13:49:05.336-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;It's Friday! Dinner and a Movie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;A man lay sprawled across three entire seats in a theater. When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to the man, ''Sorry, sir, but you're only allowed one seat.''&lt;br /&gt;The man groaned but didn't budge.&lt;br /&gt;The usher became impatient. ''Sir,'' the usher said, ''if you don't get up from there I'm going to have to call the manager.''&lt;br /&gt;Again, the man just groaned, which infuriated the usher who turned and marched briskly back up the aisle in search of his manager.&lt;br /&gt;In a few moments, both the usher and the manager returned and stood over the man. Together the two of them tried repeatedly to move him, but with no success. Finally, they summoned the police.&lt;br /&gt;The cop surveyed the situation briefly. ''All right buddy, what's your name?''&lt;br /&gt;''Sam,'' the man moaned.&lt;br /&gt;''Where ya from, Sam?'' the cop asked.&lt;br /&gt;''The balcony.''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116683134531193697?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116683134531193697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116683134531193697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116683134531193697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116683134531193697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/its-friday-dinner-and-movie-man-lay.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116674092777529037</id><published>2006-12-21T12:41:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T12:42:07.786-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blonde girl walks into the Salon wearing a pair of headphones and asks for a haircut. The hair stylist looks and says, "You'll need to take off the headphones first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If I take them off I'll die!" the girl exclaims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a while the stylist struggles around the headphones but it's no use. Again she asks the girl to remove the headphones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If I take them off I'll die!" the blonde responds again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stylist continues trying to cut around the headphones, but to no avail, the frustration builds. She decides to take the headphones off for her, gently so the girl doesn't notice. Sure enough, as soon as the headphones are removed the blonde girl drops to the floor and dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stylist can't believe it. Amazed, he picks up the headphones and holds them up to his ears, and listens:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Breathe in....breathe out....breathe in...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116674092777529037?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116674092777529037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116674092777529037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116674092777529037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116674092777529037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/hair-today-gone-tomorrow.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116656084306659255</id><published>2006-12-19T10:39:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T10:40:43.080-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;The Best James Bond Ever?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Sean Connery was sitting by the pool one morning when he got a call from his agent about a new role:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;"Hi Sean," says his agent. "Listen I want you to me up with this director tomorrow morning to discuss the part, about ten-ish."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;"Tenish?" asks Sean, "I don't even own a racket!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116656084306659255?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116656084306659255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116656084306659255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116656084306659255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116656084306659255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/best-james-bond-ever-sean-connery-was.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116622255109398934</id><published>2006-12-15T12:41:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T12:42:31.103-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Never Smelled So Good...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. There, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table, were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked hard with a spatula by his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"GET OUT OF HERE!" she shouted, "THEY'RE FOR THE FUNERAL!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116622255109398934?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116622255109398934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116622255109398934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116622255109398934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116622255109398934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/never-smelled-so-good.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116603338352830528</id><published>2006-12-13T08:09:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T08:09:43.550-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A man and a friend are playing golf one day at their local golf course. One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer.His friend says: "Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man."The man then replies: "Yeah, well we were married 35 years."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116603338352830528?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116603338352830528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116603338352830528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116603338352830528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116603338352830528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/man-and-friend-are-playing-golf-one.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116587378737396841</id><published>2006-12-11T11:48:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T11:49:47.383-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The church organist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room. She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a cut-glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water, and in the water floated, of all things, a condom! When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and He could no longer resist. "Miss Beatrice", he said, "I wonder if you would tell me about this?" pointing to the bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yes," she replied, "Isn't it wonderful? I was walking through the Park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it wouldprevent the spread of disease. And wouldn't you know, I haven't had the flu all winter."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116587378737396841?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116587378737396841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116587378737396841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116587378737396841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116587378737396841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/church-organist.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116561446778694042</id><published>2006-12-08T11:45:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T11:47:47.796-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A man died and was taken to his place of eternal torment by the devil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he passed sulphurous pits and shrieking sinners, he saw a man he recognized as a lawyer snuggling up to a beautiful woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's unfair!" he cried. "I have to roast for all eternity, and that lawyer gets to spend it with a beautiful woman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shut up", barked the devil, jabbing the man with his pitchfork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you to question that woman's punishment?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116561446778694042?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116561446778694042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116561446778694042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116561446778694042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116561446778694042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/man-died-and-was-taken-to-his-place-of.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116553210505950187</id><published>2006-12-07T12:53:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T12:56:08.186-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ladies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A store that sells husbands has just opened where a woman may go tochoose a husband from among many men. The store is composed of 6 floors, and the men increase in positive attributes as the shopper ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch. As you open the door to any floor you may choose a man from that floor, but if you go up a floor, you cannot go back down except to exit the building. So a woman goes to the shopping center to find a husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first floor the sign on the door reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 1 - These men have jobs.The woman reads the sign and says to herself, "Well, that's better thanmy last boyfriend, but I wonder what's further up?" So up she goes.The second floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids.The woman remarks to herself, "That's great, but I wonderwhat's further up?" And up she goes again.The third floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids and are extremelygood looking. "Hmmm, better" she says. "But I wonder what'supstairs?"The fourth floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely goodlooking and help with the housework."Wow!" exclaims the woman, "very tempting. BUT, there must be more further up!" And again she heads up another flight.The fifth floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking,help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak."Oh, mercy me! But just think... what must be awaiting me further on?"So up to the sixth floor she goes.The sixth floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 6 - You are visitor 3,456,789,012 to this floor. There are no menon this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women areimpossible to please.Thank you for shopping at Husband Mart and have a nice day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116553210505950187?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116553210505950187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116553210505950187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116553210505950187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116553210505950187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/ladies-store-that-sells-husbands-has.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116543766957513857</id><published>2006-12-06T10:37:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T10:41:09.600-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A passenger jet is heading down the runway, when all of a sudden it abruptly comes to a stop, turns around and returns to the gate. Eventually, after an hour-long wait, the flight finally takes off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A concerned passenger asks a flight attendant, "What was the problem?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The pilot was bothered by a noise he heard in the engine," explained the flight attendant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope it?s all sorted now," replied the nervous passenger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes, it?s fine now, sir. It just took us a while to find a new pilot."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116543766957513857?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116543766957513857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116543766957513857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116543766957513857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116543766957513857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/12/passenger-jet-is-heading-down-runway.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116363108980743362</id><published>2006-11-15T12:50:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T12:51:29.813-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I'm the boss!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A boss was complaining in a staff meeting that he wasn't getting any respect. Later that morning he went to a local sign shop and bought a small sign that read, "I'm the Boss". He then taped it to his office door. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Later that day when he returned from lunch, he found that someone had taped a note to the sign that said. "Your wife called, she wants her sign back!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116363108980743362?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116363108980743362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116363108980743362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116363108980743362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116363108980743362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/11/im-boss-boss-was-complaining-in-staff.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116344343399153497</id><published>2006-11-13T08:40:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T08:43:54.000-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A plane was taking off from Kennedy Airport. After it reached a comfortable cruising altitude, the captain made an announcement over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to Flight Number 293, nonstop from New York to Los Angeles. The weather ahead is good and therefore we should have a smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax - OH MY GOD!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the captain came back on the intercom and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so sorry if I scared you earlier, but while I was talking, the flight-attendant brought me a cup of coffee and spilled the hot coffee in my lap. You should see the front of my pants!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A passenger in Coach said, "That's nothing. He should see the back of mine!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116344343399153497?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116344343399153497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116344343399153497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116344343399153497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116344343399153497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/11/plane-was-taking-off-from-kennedy.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116302754841871955</id><published>2006-11-08T13:08:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T13:12:28.576-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Pope had just finished a tour of the East Coast and was taking a limousine to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having never driven a limo, he asked the chauffeur if he could drive for awhile. Well, the chauffeur didn't have much of a choice, so the chauffeur climbs in the back of the limo and the Pope takes the wheel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope proceeds to hop on 95 and starts accelerating to see what the limo could do. Well he gets to about 90 mph and, WHAM !, there are the blue lights of our friendly State Patrol in his mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulls over and the trooper comes to his window. Well the trooper, seeing who it was, says "just a moment please I need to call in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trooper radio's in and asks for the chief. He tells the chief "I've got a REALLY important person pulled over and I need to know what to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chief replys "Who is it, not Ted again ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trooper says, "No, even more important."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chief replys, "It's the Governor, is it ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trooper replys "No, even more important."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's isn't the President is it ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, more important", replys the trooper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well WHO the HECK is it !", screams the chief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know " says the trooper. "But he's got the Pope as a chauffeur."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116302754841871955?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116302754841871955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116302754841871955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116302754841871955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116302754841871955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/11/pope-had-just-finished-tour-of-east.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116285478972096370</id><published>2006-11-06T13:12:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T13:13:09.730-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;WIFE VS. HUSBAND &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;A couple drove down a country road for several miles, not saying a word. An earlier discussion had led to an argument and Neither of them wanted to concede their position. As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats, and pigs, The husband asked sarcastically, "Relatives of yours?" "Yep," the wife replied, "in-laws."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116285478972096370?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116285478972096370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116285478972096370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116285478972096370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116285478972096370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/11/wife-vs.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116242177086097155</id><published>2006-11-01T12:55:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T12:56:10.876-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A man walked into a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Can you direct me to the self-help section?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure," she replied, "but wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116242177086097155?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116242177086097155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116242177086097155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116242177086097155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116242177086097155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/11/man-walked-into-bookstore-and-asked.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116233301120173729</id><published>2006-10-31T12:15:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T12:16:51.210-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Where they liked their wives to be during sex...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Three politicians in a bar were discussing where they liked their wives to be during sex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The Republican said, "On the bottom, of course, as God intended."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Independent said, "I see nothing wrong with the woman being on top."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Democrat said, "I prefer my wife to be out of  town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116233301120173729?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116233301120173729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116233301120173729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116233301120173729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116233301120173729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/where-they-liked-their-wives-to-be.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116224860297656949</id><published>2006-10-30T12:49:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T12:50:02.990-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mr. Bean at an ATM Machine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend: What are you looking at?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: I know your PIN #, hee, hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend: Alright, what is my PIN # if you saw it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: four asterisks (****)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116224860297656949?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116224860297656949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116224860297656949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116224860297656949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116224860297656949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/mr.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116196708112257182</id><published>2006-10-27T06:37:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T06:38:01.136-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know you're over 50 when…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elevator is playing your favorite song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner and a movie are the whole date, not just the warm-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look like the morning after and you haven't been anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You throw a party and the neighbors don't call the cops. In fact, they don't even realize you had a party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116196708112257182?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116196708112257182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116196708112257182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116196708112257182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116196708112257182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/you-know-youre-over-50-when-elevator.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116190229721979261</id><published>2006-10-26T12:37:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T12:38:17.230-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>EVER WONDER ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do drugstores make the sick walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet coke.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do banks leave both doors open and then chain the pens to the counters.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and put our useless junk in the garage.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do we buy hot dogs in packages of ten and buns in packages of eight.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America ......do we use the word 'politics' to describe the process so well: 'Poli' in Latin meaning 'many' and 'tics' meaning 'bloodsucking creatures'.&lt;br /&gt;Only in America......do they have drive-up ATM machines with Braille lettering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER WONDER ....&lt;br /&gt;Why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens our skin?&lt;br /&gt;Why women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed?&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you ever see the headline "Psychic Wins Lottery"?&lt;br /&gt;Why is "abbreviated" such a long word?&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that doctors call what they do "practice"?&lt;br /&gt;Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dishwashing liquid made with real lemons?&lt;br /&gt;Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?&lt;br /&gt;Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?&lt;br /&gt;Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?&lt;br /&gt;Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?&lt;br /&gt;You know that indestructible black box that is used on airplanes? Why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?!&lt;br /&gt;Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?&lt;br /&gt;Why are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?&lt;br /&gt;If con is the opposite of pro, is Congress the opposite of progress?&lt;br /&gt;If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the terminal?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116190229721979261?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116190229721979261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116190229721979261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116190229721979261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116190229721979261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/ever-wonder.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116172540025056893</id><published>2006-10-24T11:29:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T11:30:00.256-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Give me an excuse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;A guy bought a new sports car and was out on freeway for a nice evening drive. As the needle jumped up to 125 mph he suddenly saw a flashing red and blue light behind him.Confident he could outrun the police car, be began to drive faster. The needle hit 130, 140, 150 and finally 160 with the lights still behind him. "What am I doing?" he thought and pulled over.The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car. "I've had a tough shift and this is my last pull over. I don't feel like more paperwork, and I did enjoy chasing you like that, so if you can give me an excuse for your driving that I haven't heard before you can go.""Last week my wife ran off with a cop," the man said, "and I was afraid you were trying to give her back.""Have a nice night," said the officer and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116172540025056893?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116172540025056893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116172540025056893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116172540025056893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116172540025056893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/give-me-excuse.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116161998562551911</id><published>2006-10-23T06:12:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T06:13:05.633-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Doctor, the embarrassed man said, 'I have a sexual problem. I can't get it up for my wife anymore.' 'Mr. Thomas, bring her back with you tomorrow and let me see what I can do.' So, the worried fellow returned with his wife the following pad. The doctor greeted the coupled and then said, 'Please remove your clothes, Mrs. Thomas.' The woman obliged and removed her clothing. 'Okay, now turn all the way around... Now, lie down please... Uh-huh, I see. Alright, you can put your clothes back on.' While the woman was busy dressing herself again, the doctor took the husband aside. 'You're in perfect health,' he said to the man. 'Your wife didn't give me an erection either.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116161998562551911?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116161998562551911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116161998562551911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116161998562551911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116161998562551911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/doctor-embarrassed-man-said-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116136298949236000</id><published>2006-10-20T06:46:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T08:23:04.060-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The funniest blonde jokes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I knew a blonde that was so stupid that.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she called me to get my phone number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she spent 20 minutes looking at the orange juice box because it said "concentrate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she put lipstick on her forehead because she wanted to make up her mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tried to put M&amp;M's in alphabetical order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she sent me a fax with a stamp on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tried to drown a fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she thought a quarterback was a refund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she got locked in a grocery store and starved to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tripped over a cordless phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she took a ruler to bed to see how long she slept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she asked for a price check at the Dollar Store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she studied for a blood test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she thought Meow Mix was a CD for cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she heard that 90% of all crimes occur around the home, she moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she missed the 44 bus, she took the 22 bus twice instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she took you to the airport and saw a sign that said "Airport Left" she turned around and went home&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116136298949236000?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116136298949236000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116136298949236000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116136298949236000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116136298949236000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/funniest-blonde-jokes-i-knew-blonde_20.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116136232905409883</id><published>2006-10-20T06:36:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T06:38:49.080-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The funniest blonde jokes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew a blonde that was so stupid that.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she called me to get my phone number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she spent 20 minutes looking at the orange juice box because it said "concentrate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* she put lipstick on her forehead because she wanted to make up her mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tried to put M&amp;M's in alphabetical order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she sent me a fax with a stamp on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tried to drown a fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she thought a quarterback was a refund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she got locked in a grocery store and starved to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she tripped over a cordless phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she took a ruler to bed to see how long she slept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she asked for a price check at the Dollar Store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she studied for a blood test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she thought Meow Mix was a CD for cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she heard that 90% of all crimes occur around the home, she moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she missed the 44 bus, she took the 22 bus twice instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*when she took you to the airport and saw a sign that said "Airport Left" she turned around and went home&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116136232905409883?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116136232905409883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116136232905409883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116136232905409883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116136232905409883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/funniest-blonde-jokes-i-knew-blonde.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116127524294701794</id><published>2006-10-19T06:25:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T06:27:22.960-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;A pianist was hired to play background music for a movie. When it was completed he asked when and where he could see the picture. The producer sheepishly confessed that it was actually a porno film and it was due out in a month.A month later, the musician went to a porno theatre to see it. With his collar up and dark glasses on, he took a seat in the back row, next to a couple whom also seemed to be in disguise.The movie was even raunchier than he had feared, featuring group sex, S/M and even a dog.After a while, the embarrassed pianist turned to the couple and said, "I'm only here to listen to the music.""Yeah?" replied the man. "We're only here to see our dog."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116127524294701794?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116127524294701794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116127524294701794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116127524294701794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116127524294701794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/pianist-was-hired-to-play-background.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116118795311890134</id><published>2006-10-18T06:12:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T06:12:33.236-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Tom Sawyer Moment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three friends die in a car accident, and upon their arrival to heaven, they are all asked one question&lt;br /&gt;"When you are in your casket and family and friends are mourning upon you, what would you like to hear them say about you?"&lt;br /&gt;The first man says, "I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor of my time, and a great family man."&lt;br /&gt;The second man says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and school teacher who made a huge difference in our children of tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;The last man replies:&lt;br /&gt;"I would like to hear them say: 'LOOK! HE'S MOVING!'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116118795311890134?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116118795311890134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116118795311890134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116118795311890134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116118795311890134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/tom-sawyer-moment.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116110300999368230</id><published>2006-10-17T06:35:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T06:36:50.003-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Words To Live By...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Notice! Take lettuce from the top of the stack, or heads will roll!&lt;br /&gt;Well, if Jerry Springer isn't educational TV, why does it make me feel so much smarter?&lt;br /&gt;A TV can insult your intelligence, but nothing rubs it in like a computer.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to get in touch with my inner child but he isn't allowed to talk to strangers.&lt;br /&gt;I have to take my paycheck to the bank. It's too little to go by itself.&lt;br /&gt;Mountaintop Glue-Ru: "Stick to it! Stick with it! Stick it out! Stick to your guns! Stick up for yourself!"&lt;br /&gt;I must be following my diet too closely. I keep gaining on it.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Megacomputer's 24-hour helpline. If you have been waiting LESS than 24 hours, please remain on the line.&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I'm in a mood to watch the world go by, I just keep to the posted speed limit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116110300999368230?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116110300999368230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116110300999368230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116110300999368230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116110300999368230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/words-to-live-by.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116101784807157774</id><published>2006-10-16T06:56:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T06:57:28.073-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A boy and his father were visiting a nearby mall. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny silver walls that moved apart and back together again by themselves.&lt;br /&gt;The lad asked, "What is this, father?"&lt;br /&gt;The father (having never seen an elevator) responded, "I have no idea what it is."&lt;br /&gt;While the boy and his father were watching wide-eyed, an old lady in a wheelchair rolled up to the moving walls and pressed a button. The walls opened and the lady rolled between them into a small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched as small circles lit up above the walls.&lt;br /&gt;The walls opened up again and a beautiful twenty-four-year-old woman stepped out.&lt;br /&gt;The father looked at his son anxiously and said, "Go get your mother."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116101784807157774?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116101784807157774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116101784807157774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116101784807157774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116101784807157774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/boy-and-his-father-were-visiting.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116076332026339745</id><published>2006-10-13T08:15:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T08:15:20.270-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;After months of ill heath, a man goes to his doctor for a full check-up. The doctor brings out the results and says 'I'm afraid I've got some very bad news. You're dying and you don't have much time left'. The man looks shocked. 'Oh that's terrible! How long have I got?' 'Ten' replies the doctor. 'Ten?' the man asks. 'Ten what? Months? Weeks? What on earth do you mean?' The doctor looks at him sadly. 'Nine... Eight...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116076332026339745?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116076332026339745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116076332026339745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116076332026339745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116076332026339745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/after-months-of-ill-heath-man-goes-to.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116068821044802432</id><published>2006-10-12T11:23:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T11:23:30.463-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Steve is shopping for a new motorcycle. He finally finds one for a great price, but it's missing a seal, so whenever it rains he has to smear vaseline over the spot where the seal should be.Anyway, his girlfriend is having him over for dinner to meet her parents. He drives his new bike to her house, where she is outside waiting for him."No matter what happens at dinner tonight, don't say a word." She tells him, "Our family had a fight a while ago about doing dishes. We haven't done any since, but the first person to speak at dinner has to do them."Steve sits down for dinner and it is just how she described it. Dishes are piled up to the ceiling in the kitchen, and nobody is saying a word. So Steve decides to have a little fun. He grabs his girlfriend, throws her on the table and has sex with her in front of her parents.His girlfriend is a little flustered, her dad is obviously livid, and her mom horrified when he sits back down, but no one says a word. A few minutes later he grabs her mom, throws her on the table and does a repeat performance. Now his girlfriend is furious, her dad is boiling, and her mother is a little happier.But still there is complete silence at the table. All of a sudden there is a loud clap of thunder, and it starts to rain. Steve remembers his motorcycle. He jumps up and grabs his jar of vaseline.Upon witnessing this, his girlfriend's father backs away from the table and screams, "OKAY, ENOUGH ALREADY, I'LL DO THE FUCKING DISHES"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116068821044802432?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116068821044802432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116068821044802432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116068821044802432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116068821044802432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/steve-is-shopping-for-new-motorcycle.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116058509108965160</id><published>2006-10-11T06:44:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T06:44:51.100-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Hot Diggity Dog...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Two Scottish nuns had just arrived to the US by boat when one said to the other, "I heard that the occupants of this country actually eat dogs.""Odd," her companion replied, "but if we shall live in America, we might as well do as the Americans do."Nodding emphatically, the mother superior pointed to a hot dog vendor and they both walked towards it."Two dogs, please," said one.The vendor was only too pleased to oblige and he wrapped both hot dogs in foil. Excited, the nuns hurried over to a bench and began to unwrap their 'dogs.'The mother superior was first to open hers, then, stared at it for a moment, leaned over to the other nun and whispered cautiously, "What part did you get?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116058509108965160?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116058509108965160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116058509108965160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116058509108965160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116058509108965160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/hot-diggity-dog.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116049784589405933</id><published>2006-10-10T06:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T06:30:45.900-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>And On The Sixth Day, He Created...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For decades, two heroic statues, one male and one female, faced each other in a city park, until one day an angel came down from heaven.&lt;br /&gt;"You've been such exemplary statues," he announced to them, "so I'm going to give you a special gift.I'm going to bring you both to life for thirty minutes, in which you can do anything you want."&lt;br /&gt;And with a clap of his hands, the angel brought the statues to life.&lt;br /&gt;The two approached each other a bit shyly , but soon dashed for the bushes, from which shortly emerged a good deal of giggling, laughter, and shaking of branches.&lt;br /&gt;Fifteen minutes later, the two statues emerged from the bushes, wide grins on their faces.&lt;br /&gt;"You still have fifteen more minutes," said the angel, winking knowingly.&lt;br /&gt;Grinning even more widely the female statue turned to the male statue and said, "Great!&lt;br /&gt;Only this time you hold the pigeon down and I'll poop on it's head."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116049784589405933?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116049784589405933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116049784589405933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116049784589405933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116049784589405933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/and-on-sixth-day-he-created.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116042948828652218</id><published>2006-10-09T11:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T11:31:28.293-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;A blonde walked into a gas station and said to the manager, "I locked my keys in my car. Do you have a coat hanger or something I can stick through the window to unlock the door?" "Why sure," said the manager, "we have something that works especially well for that." A couple minutes later, the manager walked outside to see how the blonde was doing and he heard another voice. "No, no! A little to the left," said the other blonde inside the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116042948828652218?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116042948828652218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116042948828652218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116042948828652218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116042948828652218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/blonde-walked-into-gas-station-and.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116041040375155241</id><published>2006-10-09T06:10:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T06:13:24.243-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/1600/250454.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/250454.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Speedy Seniors...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch speeding drivers, a State Police Officer sees a car puttering along at 22 MPH. He thinks to himself, "This driver is just as dangerous as a speeder!" So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over.Approaching the car, he notices that there are five old ladies -- two in the front seat and three in the back - eyes wide and white as ghosts.The driver, obviously confused, says to him, "Officer, I don't understand, I was doing exactly the speed limit! What seems to be the problem?""Ma'am," the officer replies, "You weren't speeding, but you should know that driving slower than the speed limit can also be a danger to other drivers.""Slower than the speed limit?" she asked. No sir, I was doing the speed limit exactly... Twenty-Two miles an hour!" the old woman says a bit proudly. The State Police officer, trying to contain a chuckle explains to her that "22" was the route number, not the speed limit. A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned and thanked the officer for pointing out her error."But before I let you go, Ma'am, I have to ask... Is everyone in this car ok? These women seem awfully shaken and they haven't muttered a single peep this whole time." the officer asks."Oh, they'll be alright in a minute officer. We just got off Route 119."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116041040375155241?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116041040375155241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116041040375155241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116041040375155241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116041040375155241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/speedy-seniors.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116015298020597338</id><published>2006-10-06T06:42:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T06:43:00.220-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Linguistic Evolution...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The European Union commissioners have announced that agreement has been reached to adopt English as the preferred language for European communications, rather than German, which was the other possibility. As part of the negotiations, Her Majesty's Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a five-year phased plan for what will be known as EuroEnglish (Euro for short). In the first year, "s" will be used instead of the soft "c". Sertainly, sivil servants will resieve this news with joy. Also, the hard "c" will be replaced with "k." Not only will this klear up konfusion, but typewriters kan have one less letter.There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 per sent shorter.In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent "e"s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" by "z" and "W" by "V". During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors; be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters. After zis fifz yer, ve vil hav a reli sensibl riten styl. Zer vil b no mor trubls or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech ozer. Ze drem vil finali kum tru.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116015298020597338?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116015298020597338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116015298020597338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116015298020597338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116015298020597338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/linguistic-evolution.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-116006623172966655</id><published>2006-10-05T06:36:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T06:37:11.743-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Father Knows Best...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;A young boy had just gotten his driver's license and inquired of his father, if they could discuss his use of the car. His father said he'd make a deal with his son. "You bring your grades up from a C to a B average, study your Bible a little, get your hair cut and we'll talk about the car."&lt;br /&gt;The boy thought about that for a moment, decided he'd settle for the offer and they agreed on it.After about six weeks his father said, "Son, I've been real proud. You  brought your grades up and I've observed that you have been studying your Bible, but I'm real disappointed you haven't gotten your hair cut."&lt;br /&gt;The young man paused a moment then said, "You know, Dad, I've been thinking about that, and I've noticed in my studies of the Bible that Samson had long hair, John the Baptist had long hair, Moses had long hair and there's even a strong argument that Jesus had long hair."&lt;br /&gt;To this his father replied, "Did you also notice they all walked  everywhere they went?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-116006623172966655?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/116006623172966655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=116006623172966655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116006623172966655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/116006623172966655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/father-knows-best.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115997977433740570</id><published>2006-10-04T06:35:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T06:36:14.350-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Who's the Boss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody on earth dies and goes to heaven. (Don't ask why or how, it just happens...)God comes and says, "I want the men to make two lines. One line for the men that dominated their women on earth and the other line for the men that were dominated by their women. Also, I want all the women to go with St. Peter."With that said and done, the next time God looked, the women are gone and there are two lines. The line of the men that were dominated by their women was 100 miles long, and in the line of men that dominated their women, there was only one man.God got mad and said, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created you in my image and you were all whipped by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons that stood up and made me proud. Learn from him! Tell them my son, how did you manage to be the only one in this line?"And the man replied, "I don't know, my wife told me to stand here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115997977433740570?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115997977433740570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115997977433740570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115997977433740570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115997977433740570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/whos-boss-everybody-on-earth-dies-and.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115989460530357912</id><published>2006-10-03T06:56:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T06:58:44.133-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the transcript of an ACTUAL radio conversation of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Americans: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Canadians: Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Americans: This is the Captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Canadians: No. I say again, you divert YOUR course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Americans: THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES' ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH, THAT'S ONE FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER-MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Canadians: We are a lighthouse. Your call.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115989460530357912?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115989460530357912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115989460530357912' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115989460530357912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115989460530357912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/mayday-mayday-mayday-this-is.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115980953062833569</id><published>2006-10-02T07:18:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T07:18:50.636-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Legally Blonde...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lawyer and a blonde are sitting next to each other at the bar. The lawyer leans over to her and asks if she would like to play a fun game. The blonde, drunk and dozing, just wants to take a nap, so she politely declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks.The lawyer persists and explains that the game is really easy and a lot of fun. He explains: "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me $5, and visa-versa."Again, she politely declines and tries to get some sleep.The lawyer, now somewhat agitated, says, "Okay, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5, and if I don't know the answer, I will pay you $50," figuring that since she is a blonde that he will easily win the match.This catches the blonde's attention and, figuring that there will be no end to this torment unless she plays, she agrees to the game.The lawyer asks the first question: "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?"The blonde doesn't say a word, reaches into her purse, pulls out a five-dollar bill and hands it to the lawyer.Now, it's the blonde's turn. She asks the lawyer: "What goes up a hill with three legs, and comes down with four?"The lawyer looks at her with a puzzled look.He takes out his laptop computer and searches all his references. He taps into the digital cellphone via infra-red wireless connection to his modem port and searches the Net and the Library of Congress. Frustrated, he sends E-mail to all his co-workers, friends, clients, and suppliers that he knows. And then some. All to no avail. After over an hour, he wakes the blonde and hands her $50. The blonde politely takes the $50 and turns away to get back to sleep.The lawyer, who is more than a little miffed, wakes the blonde and asks, "Well, so what IS the answer?"Without a word, the blonde reaches into her purse, hands the lawyer $5, and goes back to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115980953062833569?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115980953062833569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115980953062833569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115980953062833569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115980953062833569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/10/legally-blonde.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115966334021720082</id><published>2006-09-30T14:40:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T14:45:53.513-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Proverbs From the First Grade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A first grade teacher collected well-known proverbs. She gave each kid in the class the first half of the proverb, and asked them to fill in the rest. Here's what the kids came up with:&lt;br /&gt;Better to be safe than... punch a 5th grader.&lt;br /&gt;Strike while the... bug is close.&lt;br /&gt;It's always darkest before... daylight savings time.&lt;br /&gt;Never underestimate the power of... termites.&lt;br /&gt;You can lead a horse to water but... how?&lt;br /&gt;Don't bite the hand that... looks dirty.&lt;br /&gt;No news is... impossible.&lt;br /&gt;A miss is as good as a... Mr.&lt;br /&gt;You can't teach an old dog... math.&lt;br /&gt;If you lie down with dogs, you... will stink in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;Love all, trust... me.&lt;br /&gt;The pen is mightier than... the pigs.&lt;br /&gt;An idle mind is... the best way to relax.&lt;br /&gt;Where there is smoke, there's... pollution.&lt;br /&gt;Happy is the bride who... gets all the presents.&lt;br /&gt;A penny saved is... not much.&lt;br /&gt;Two is company, three's... The Musketeers.&lt;br /&gt;None are so blind as... Helen Keller.&lt;br /&gt;Children should be seen and not... spanked or grounded.&lt;br /&gt;If at first you don't succeed... get new batteries.&lt;br /&gt;You get out of something what you... see pictured on the box.&lt;br /&gt;When the blind lead the blind... get out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;There is no fool like... Aunt Edie.&lt;br /&gt;Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and... you have to blow your nose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115966334021720082?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115966334021720082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115966334021720082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115966334021720082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115966334021720082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/proverbs-from-first-grade.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115954932084359978</id><published>2006-09-29T07:01:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T14:39:00.963-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;"Remember the Time When We...What Was I Saying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An 80 year old couple were having problems remembering things, so they decided to go to their doctor to get checked out to make sure nothing was wrong with them.When they arrived to the doctor's office, they explained to the doctor about the problems they were having with their memory. After checking the couple out, the doctor told them that they were physically okay but might want to start writing things down and make notes to help them remember things. The couple thanked the doctor and left.Later that night while watching TV, the man got up from his chair and his wife asked, "Where are you going?"He replied, "To the kitchen."She asked, "Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"He replied, "Sure."She then asked him, "Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?"He said, "No, I can remember that."She then said, "Well I would also like some strawberries on top. You had better write that down because I know you'll forget that."He said, "I can remember that, you want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries."She replied, "Well I also would like whipped cream on top. I know you will forget that so you better write it down."With irritation in his voice, he said, "I don't need to write that down! I can remember that." He then fumes into the kitchen.After about 20 minutes he returned from the kitchen and handed her a plate of bacon and eggs. She stared at the plate for a moment and said angrily:"I TOLD you to write it down! You forgot my toast!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115954932084359978?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115954932084359978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115954932084359978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115954932084359978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115954932084359978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/remember-time-when-we.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115948074062557710</id><published>2006-09-28T11:57:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T11:59:00.636-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>MR. BEAN IN A DRUG STORE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: I'd like some vitamins for my grandson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: Sir, vitamin A, B or C?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: Any will do, my grandson doesn't know the alphabet yet!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115948074062557710?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115948074062557710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115948074062557710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115948074062557710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115948074062557710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/mr.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115948031313718683</id><published>2006-09-28T11:50:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T11:51:53.146-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/1600/8787C.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115948031313718683?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115948031313718683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115948031313718683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115948031313718683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115948031313718683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115946331854684473</id><published>2006-09-28T07:02:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T07:08:38.880-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Humorous Helpful Hints...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff a miniature marshmallow in the bottom of a sugar cone to prevent ice cream drips.&lt;br /&gt;Use a meat baster to "squeeze" your pancake batter onto the hot griddle and you'll get perfectly shaped pancakes every time.&lt;br /&gt;To keep potatoes from budding, place an apple in the bag with the potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;Run your hands under cold water before pressing Rice Krispies treats in the pan and the marshmallow won't stick to your fingers.&lt;br /&gt;To get the most juice out of fresh lemons, bring them to room temperature and roll them under your palm against the kitchen counter before squeezing.&lt;br /&gt;To easily remove burnt on food from your skillet, simply add a drop or two of dish soap and enough water to cover bottom of pan, and bring to a boil on stove-top.&lt;br /&gt;Spray your Tupperware with nonstick cooking spray before pouring in tomato-based sauces and there won't be any stains.&lt;br /&gt;When a cake recipe calls for flouring the baking pan, use a bit of the dry cake mix instead and there won't be any white mess on the outside of the cake.&lt;br /&gt;If you accidentally over-salt a dish while it's still cooking, drop in a peeled potato and it will absorb the excess salt for an instant "fix me up."&lt;br /&gt;Wrap celery in aluminum foil when putting in the refrigerator and it will keep for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;Brush some beaten egg white over pie crust before baking to yield a beautiful glossy finish.&lt;br /&gt;To determine whether an egg is fresh place it in a pan of cool, salted water. If it sinks, it is fresh, but if it rises to the surface, throw it away.&lt;br /&gt;Don't throw out all that leftover wine: Freeze into ice cubes for future use in casseroles and sauces.&lt;br /&gt;If you have a problem opening jars: Try using latex dish washing gloves. They give a non-slip grip that makes opening jars easy.&lt;br /&gt;Potatoes will take food stains off your fingers. Just slice and rub raw potato on the stains and rinse with water.&lt;br /&gt;To get rid of itch from mosquito bites, try applying soap on the area and you will experience instant relief.&lt;br /&gt;Ants, ants, ants everywhere ... Well, they are said to never cross a chalk line. So get your chalk out and draw a line on the floor or wherever ants tend to march. See for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Use air-freshener to clean mirrors. It does a good job and better still, leaves a lovely smell to the shine.&lt;br /&gt;When you get a splinter, reach for the scotch tape before resorting to tweezers or a needle. Simply put the scotch tape splinter, then pull it off. Scotch tape removes most splinters painlessly and easily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115946331854684473?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115946331854684473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115946331854684473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115946331854684473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115946331854684473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/humorous-helpful-hints.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115939723499464626</id><published>2006-09-27T12:45:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T13:00:08.116-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cat: Dinner!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/1600/showdown.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/showdown.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mouse: Dinner!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115939723499464626?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115939723499464626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115939723499464626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115939723499464626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115939723499464626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/cat-dinner-mouse-dinner.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115939713430491874</id><published>2006-09-27T12:44:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T12:45:34.326-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After every flight, pilots fill out a form called a gripe sheet, which conveys to the mechanics problems encountered with the aircraft during the flight that need repair or correction. The mechanics read and correct the problem, and then respond in writing on the lower half of the form what remedial action was taken, and the pilot reviews the gripe sheets before the next flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never let it be said that ground crews and engineers lack a sense of humor.  Here are some actual logged maintenance complaints and problems as submitted by Qantas pilots and the solution recorded by maintenance engineers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P = The problem logged by the pilot.)&lt;br /&gt;(S = The solution and action taken by the mechanics.)&lt;br /&gt;P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.&lt;br /&gt;S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.&lt;br /&gt;P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.&lt;br /&gt;S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.&lt;br /&gt;P: Something loose in cockpit.&lt;br /&gt;S: Something tightened in cockpit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Dead bugs on windshield.&lt;br /&gt;S: Live bugs on back-order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.&lt;br /&gt;S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.&lt;br /&gt;P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.&lt;br /&gt;S: Evidence removed.&lt;br /&gt;P: DME volume unbelievably loud.&lt;br /&gt;S: DME volume set to more believable level.&lt;br /&gt;P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.&lt;br /&gt;S: That's what they're there for.&lt;br /&gt;P: IFF inoperative.&lt;br /&gt;S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Suspected crack in windshield.&lt;br /&gt;S: Suspect you're right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Number 3 engine missing.&lt;br /&gt;S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.&lt;br /&gt;P: Aircraft handles funny.&lt;br /&gt;S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.&lt;br /&gt;P: Target radar hums.&lt;br /&gt;S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Mouse in cockpit.&lt;br /&gt;S: Cat installed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.&lt;br /&gt;S: Took hammer away from midget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115939713430491874?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115939713430491874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115939713430491874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115939713430491874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115939713430491874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/after-every-flight-pilots-fill-out.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115937527695317507</id><published>2006-09-27T06:40:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T06:41:16.963-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;Why the Chicken Crossed the Road?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;John Locke: Because he was exercising his natural right to liberty.&lt;br /&gt;Machiavelli: The point is that the chicken crossed the road. Who cares why? The ends of crossing the road justify whatever motive there was.&lt;br /&gt;Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.&lt;br /&gt;The Bible: And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the Chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.&lt;br /&gt;Darwin #1: Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically predisposed to cross roads&lt;br /&gt;Darwin #2: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.&lt;br /&gt;Jerry Seinfeld: Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why doesn't anyone ever think to ask, "What the heck was this chicken doing walking around all over the place anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;Martin Luther King, Jr.: I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa: In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken had crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.&lt;br /&gt;Bill Gates: I have just released the new Chicken 2000, which will both cross roads AND balance your checkbook, though when it divides 3 by 2 it gets 1.4999999999.&lt;br /&gt;Colonel Sanders: I missed one?&lt;br /&gt;Plato: For the greater good.&lt;br /&gt;Aristotle: To actualize its potential.&lt;br /&gt;Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.&lt;br /&gt;Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.&lt;br /&gt;Joseph Stalin: I don't care. Catch it. I need its eggs to make my omelet.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Seuss: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes the chicken crossed the road, but why he crossed, I've not been told!&lt;br /&gt;OJ Simpson: It didn't. I was playing golf with it at the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115937527695317507?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115937527695317507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115937527695317507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115937527695317507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115937527695317507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/why-chicken-crossed-road-john-locke.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115931152366799944</id><published>2006-09-26T12:57:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T12:58:43.683-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cutting In Line&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was the day of the big sale. Rumors of the sale and some advertising in the local paper were the main reason for the long line that formed by 8:30, the store's opening time, in front of the store.  &lt;br /&gt;A small man pushed his way to the front of the line, only to be pushed back, amid loud and colorful curses.On the man's second attempt, he was punched square in the jaw, and knocked around a bit, and then thrown to the end of the line again. As he got up the second time, he said to the person at the end of the line:  &lt;br /&gt;"That does it! If they hit me one more time, I don't open the store!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115931152366799944?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115931152366799944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115931152366799944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115931152366799944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115931152366799944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/cutting-in-line-it-was-day-of-big-sale.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115928753448113655</id><published>2006-09-26T06:18:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T06:18:54.500-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How to Please Your I.T. Department...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When you call us to have your computer moved, be sure to leave it buried under half a ton of postcards, baby pictures, stuffed animals, dried flowers, bowling trophies and children's art. We don't have a life, and we find it deeply moving to catch a fleeting glimpse of yours.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't write anything down. Ever. We can play back the error messages from here.&lt;br /&gt;- When an I.T. person says he's coming right over, go for coffee. That way you won't be there when we need your password. It's nothing for us to remember 700 screen saver passwords.&lt;br /&gt;- When you call the help desk, state what you want, not what's keeping you from getting it. We don't need to know that you can't get into your mail because your computer won't power on at all.&lt;br /&gt;- When I.T. support sends you an E-Mail with high importance, delete it at once. We're just testing.&lt;br /&gt;- When an I.T. person is eating lunch at his desk, walk right in and spill your guts right out. We exist only to serve.&lt;br /&gt;- Send urgent email all in uppercase. The mail server picks it up and flags it as a rush delivery.&lt;br /&gt;- When the photocopier doesn't work, call computer support. There's electronics in it.&lt;br /&gt;- When something's wrong with your home PC, dump it on an I.T. person's chair with no name, no phone number and no description of the problem. We love a puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;- When an I.T. person tells you that computer screens don't have cartridges in them, argue. We love a good argument.&lt;br /&gt;- When an I.T. person tells you that he'll be there shortly, reply in a scathing tone of voice: "And just how many weeks do you mean by shortly?" That motivates us.&lt;br /&gt;- When the printer won't print, re-send the job at least 20 times. Print jobs frequently get sucked into black holes.&lt;br /&gt;- When the printer still won't print after 20 tries, send the job to all 68 printers in the company. One of them is bound to work.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't learn the proper term for anything technical. We know exactly what you mean by "My thingy blew up".&lt;br /&gt;- Don't use on-line help. On-line help is for wimps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115928753448113655?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115928753448113655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115928753448113655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115928753448113655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115928753448113655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/how-to-please-your-i.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115921755269399662</id><published>2006-09-25T10:51:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T10:52:32.716-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Wisdom For Your Cubicle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If you do a good job and work hard, you may get a job with a better company someday.&lt;br /&gt;2. The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off due to budget cuts.&lt;br /&gt;3. Sure, you may not like working here, but we pay your rent.&lt;br /&gt;4. Rome did not create a great empire by having meetings -- they did it by killing all those who opposed them.&lt;br /&gt;5. A person who smiles in the face of adversity probably has a scapegoat.&lt;br /&gt;6. If at first you don't succeed--try management.&lt;br /&gt;7. Never put off until tomorrow what you can avoid altogether.&lt;br /&gt;8. Never quit until you have another job.&lt;br /&gt;9. Hang in there: Retirement is only 30 years away!&lt;br /&gt;10. Go the extra mile--It makes your boss look like an incompetent slacker.&lt;br /&gt;11. Pride, commitment, teamwork--words we use to get you to work for free.&lt;br /&gt;12. Work: It isn't just for sleeping anymore.&lt;br /&gt;13. There are two kinds of people in life: people who like their jobs, and people who don't work here anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115921755269399662?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115921755269399662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115921755269399662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115921755269399662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115921755269399662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/wisdom-for-your-cubicle-1.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115920057701753513</id><published>2006-09-25T06:08:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T06:09:37.026-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;A Few Quotes Found While Surfing the Net... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;"A day without sunshine is like night"&lt;br /&gt;"I just got lost in thought. It was unfamiliar territory."&lt;br /&gt;"99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name."&lt;br /&gt;"Honk if you love peace and quiet."&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be without sponges."&lt;br /&gt;"Remember half the people you know are below average."&lt;br /&gt;"The early bird may get the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese."&lt;br /&gt;"He who laughs last thinks slowest.""&lt;br /&gt;"Eagles may soar but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing is foolproof to a talented fool."&lt;br /&gt;"Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115920057701753513?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115920057701753513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115920057701753513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115920057701753513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115920057701753513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/few-quotes-found-while-surfing-net.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115894198527497156</id><published>2006-09-22T06:18:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T06:19:45.283-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Today in the Stock Market&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helium was up, feathers were down.&lt;br /&gt;Paper was stationary.&lt;br /&gt;Fluorescent tubing was dimmed in light trading.&lt;br /&gt;Knives were up sharply.&lt;br /&gt;Cow steered into a bull market.&lt;br /&gt;Pencils lost a few points.&lt;br /&gt;Hiking equipment was trailing.&lt;br /&gt;Elevators rose, while escalators continued their slow decline.&lt;br /&gt;Weights were up in heavy trading.&lt;br /&gt;Light switches were off.&lt;br /&gt;Mining equipment hit rock bottom.&lt;br /&gt;Diapers remain unchanged.&lt;br /&gt;Shipping lines stayed at an even keel.&lt;br /&gt;The market for raisins dried up.&lt;br /&gt;Coca Cola fizzled.&lt;br /&gt;Caterpillar stock inched up a bit.&lt;br /&gt;Sun peaked at midday.&lt;br /&gt;Balloon prices were inflated.&lt;br /&gt;And batteries exploded in an attempt to recharge the market.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115894198527497156?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115894198527497156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115894198527497156' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115894198527497156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115894198527497156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/today-in-stock-market-helium-was-up.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115885560821361268</id><published>2006-09-21T06:16:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T06:26:26.843-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Water! Water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A traveler was stumbling through the desert, desperate for water, then he saw something, far off in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;Hoping to find water, he walked towards the image, only to find a little old peddler sitting at a card table with a bunch of neckties laid out.&lt;br /&gt;The parched wanderer asked, "Please, I'm dying of thirst, can I have some water?"&lt;br /&gt;The man replied "I don't have any water, but why don't you buy a tie? Here's one that goes nicely with your clothes."&lt;br /&gt;The desperate man shouted, "I don't want a tie, you idiot, I need water!"&lt;br /&gt;"OK, don't buy a tie. But to show you what a nice guy I am, I'll tell you that over that hill there, about 5 miles, is a nice restaurant. Walk that way, they'll give you all the water you want."&lt;br /&gt;The man thanked the peddler and walked away towards the hill and eventually disappeared out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;Three hours later he returned.&lt;br /&gt;The man at the card table asked, "I told you, about 5 miles over that hill. Couldn't you find it?"&lt;br /&gt;"I found it all right. They wouldn't let me in without a tie."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115885560821361268?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115885560821361268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115885560821361268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115885560821361268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115885560821361268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/water-water-traveler-was-stumbling.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115878553059549456</id><published>2006-09-20T10:51:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T10:52:10.606-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Teacher: What is 5 plus 4? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Mr. Bean: 9. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Teacher: What is 4 plus 5? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Mr. Bean: Are you trying to fool me? You've just twisted the figure, the answer is 6!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115878553059549456?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115878553059549456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115878553059549456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115878553059549456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115878553059549456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/teacher-what-is-5-plus-4-mr.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115876883882435861</id><published>2006-09-20T06:07:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T06:13:58.836-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;MY RESUME&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My first job was working in an orange juice factory, but I got canned ... couldn't concentrate.&lt;br /&gt;Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn't hack it, so they gave me the ax.&lt;br /&gt;After that I tried to be a tailor, but I just wasn't suited for it ... mainly because it was a so-so job.&lt;br /&gt;Next I tried working in a muffler factory but that was too exhausting.&lt;br /&gt;Then I tried to be a chef -- figured it would add a little spice too my life but I just didn't have the thyme.&lt;br /&gt;I attempted to be a deli worker, but any way I sliced it, I couldn't cut the mustard.&lt;br /&gt;My best job was being a musician, but eventually I found I wasn't noteworthy.&lt;br /&gt;I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn't have any patience.&lt;br /&gt;Next was a job in a shoe factory; I tried but I just didn't fit in.&lt;br /&gt;I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I couldn't live on my net income.&lt;br /&gt;I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company, but the work was just too draining.&lt;br /&gt;So then I got a job in a workout center, but they said I wasn't fit for the job.&lt;br /&gt;After many years of trying to find steady work I finally got a job as a historian until I realized there was no future in it.&lt;br /&gt;My last job was working at Starbucks, but I had to quit because it was always the same old grind.&lt;br /&gt;SO I RETIRED AND I FOUND I AM PERFECT FOR THE JOB! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115876883882435861?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115876883882435861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115876883882435861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115876883882435861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115876883882435861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-resume-my-first-job-was_115876883882435861.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115870575870565540</id><published>2006-09-19T12:41:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T12:42:38.716-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;The Best Dinner!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;A very traditional elderly woman was enjoying a good game of bridge with her girlfriends one evening. "Oh, no! I have to rush home and fix dinner for my husband! He's going to be really ticked if it's not ready on time!" she exclaimed suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;When she got home, she realized that she didn't have enough time to go to the supermarket, and all she had in the cupboard was a wilted lettuce leaf, an egg, and a can of cat food. In a panic, she opened the can of cat food, stirred in the egg, and garnished it with the lettuce leaf just as her husband pulled up.&lt;br /&gt;She greeted her husband and then watched in horror as he sat down to his dinner. To her surprise, the husband really enjoyed his dinner. "Darling, this is the best dinner you have made for me in forty years of marriage. You can make this for me any old day."&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, every bridge night from then on, the woman made her husband the same dish. She told her bridge cronies about it and they were all horrified. "You're going to kill him!" they exclaimed. Two months later, her husband died.&lt;br /&gt;The women were sitting around the table playing bridge when one of the cronies said, "You killed him! We told you that feeding him that cat food every week would do him in! How can you just sit there so calmly and play bridge knowing you murdered your husband?" The wife stoically replied, "I didn't kill him. He fell off the mantel while he was cleaning himself." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115870575870565540?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115870575870565540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115870575870565540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115870575870565540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115870575870565540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/best-dinner-very-traditional-elderly.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115868321760192979</id><published>2006-09-19T06:26:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T06:26:57.610-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Check Out These Funny Bumper Stickers!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have enough youth, how about a fountain of Smart?&lt;br /&gt;He who laughs last thinks slowest.&lt;br /&gt;Auntie Em, Hate you, hate Kansas, taking the dog... Dorothy.&lt;br /&gt;Time is what keeps everything from happening at once.&lt;br /&gt;I get enough exercise just pushing my luck.&lt;br /&gt;Where there's a will, I want to be in it.&lt;br /&gt;OK, who stopped payment on my reality check?&lt;br /&gt;Few women admit their age; Fewer men act it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.&lt;br /&gt;Hard work has a future payoff. Laziness pays off NOW..&lt;br /&gt;Pride is what we have. Vanity is what others have.&lt;br /&gt;A bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory.&lt;br /&gt;Warning: Dates in Calendar are closer than they appear.&lt;br /&gt;Give me ambiguity or give me something else.&lt;br /&gt;Always remember you're unique, just like everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.&lt;br /&gt;Be nice to your kids. They'll choose your nursing home.&lt;br /&gt;There are 3 kinds of people: those who can count &amp;amp; those who can't.&lt;br /&gt;Why is 'abbreviation' such a long word?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115868321760192979?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115868321760192979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115868321760192979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115868321760192979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115868321760192979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/check-out-these-funny-bumper-stickers.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115861647007264645</id><published>2006-09-18T11:52:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T11:54:30.083-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;A Funny Joke: Why Aren't You Running? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in the tiny town of Johnstown got up early and went to the local church. Before the services started, the townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking about their lives, their families, etc.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church. Everyone started screaming and running for the exit, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from this evil incarnate. Soon everyone was evacuated from the Church, except for one elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew, not moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the ultimate enemy was in his presence.&lt;br /&gt;Now this confused Satan a bit, so he walked up to the man and said, "Don't you know who I am?"&lt;br /&gt;The man replied "Yep, sure do."&lt;br /&gt;Satan asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.&lt;br /&gt;Satan was a little perturbed at this and queried, "Why aren't you afraid of me?"&lt;br /&gt;The man calmly replied, "Been married to your sister for 48 years..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115861647007264645?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115861647007264645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115861647007264645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115861647007264645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115861647007264645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/funny-joke-why-arent-you-running-one.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115859625071606335</id><published>2006-09-18T06:08:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T06:17:30.716-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Golf Joke....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this preacher who was an avid golfer. Every chance he could get, he could be found on the golf course swinging away. It was an obsession. One Sunday was a picture perfect day for golfing. The sun was out, no clouds in the sky, and the temperature was just right.The preacher was in a quandary as to what to do, and shortly, the urge to play golf overcame him. He called an assistant to tell him that he was sick and could not do church, packed the car up, and drove three hours to a golf course where no one would recognize him. Happily, he began to play the course.An angel up above was watching the preacher and was quite perturbed. He went to God and said, "Look at the preacher. He should be punished for what he is doing."God nodded in agreement. The preacher teed up on the first hole. He swung at the ball, and it sailed effortlessly through the air and landed right in the cup three hundred and fifty yards away. A picture perfect hole-in-one. He was amazed and excited.The angel was a little shocked. He turned to God and said, "Begging Your pardon, but I thought you were going to punish him?"God smiled. "Think about it -- who can he tell?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115859625071606335?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115859625071606335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115859625071606335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115859625071606335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115859625071606335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/golf-joke.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34237121.post-115836631082811413</id><published>2006-09-15T14:23:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T14:25:10.836-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Funny Joke: BRAIN TUMOR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: I regret to tell you that you have a brain tumor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: Yeeeessss!!! (Jumps in joy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: Did you understand what I just told you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: Yes of course, do you think I'm dumb?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: Then why are you so happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean: Because that proves that I have a brain!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34237121-115836631082811413?l=google-itguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/feeds/115836631082811413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34237121&amp;postID=115836631082811413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115836631082811413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34237121/posts/default/115836631082811413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://google-itguy.blogspot.com/2006/09/funny-joke-brain-tumor-doctor-i-regret.html' title=''/><author><name>itguy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15354959279737475231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/3770/320/8787C.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
