Those were great, Jaime! Thanks for sharing.

Yeah, thanks for those! I formatted them into a Word DOC and sent them to my wife at the hospital for her staff.... (insrt own joke here, Peter!)

Best of -- Chat rooms:

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<Sui88> 67% of girls are stupid
<V-girl> i belong with the other 13%

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SparTacus (rulimbaww@3B942731.dsl.stlsmo.swbell.net) has joined #santcuary
*SparTacus is now known as Betty_Guns
wacko Jacko (lbeedy@1C57684.dsl.stlsmo.swbell.net) has joined #santcuary
<wacko_Jacko>ok spartacus just came n here i know it. which one of you is that loser?
<hunney> I am spartacus
<ji_pper>no im spartacus
<Betty_Guns>I am spartacus
<mistr andersn>I’m spartacus
<wacko_Jacko>ur all freaks thats what u r

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<Locl-Yocl> I helped the EMTs at a car wreck and got blood all over my arms and shirt. It looked like I murdered 20 people with a fork... anyway, I walked into a convieniance store down the street and said my girlfriend needs a tampon. The guy at the counter was mortified.

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<link>once upon a midnight dreary, while i pron surfed, weak and weary, over many a strange and spurious site of ' hot xxx galore'. While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour, " 'Tis not possible!", i muttered, " give me back my free hardcore!"..... quoth the server, 404.
<hokage> *cries*, scary....

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<@David> Yay I get laid today! Been a month.... needing it by now
<@Sony> ...........
<@Sony> TMI TMI TMI
<@David> Only a few hundred pounds but its better than nothing
<Malpine> Thanks for the info
<@David> eh?
<@David> damn i meant PAID
<@David> I get PAID today
<@David> dammit

nice.

Ah, that's how you're 1300 posts ahead of me. I was wondering.

These aren't as slick as the ones at Despair.com, but they are some funny and sarcastic motivational posters nonetheless. And the last one will, no doubt, elicit hurrahs from those over in the beer thread.

The ONE day I decide to drink hot chocolate at work. . .

Thanks, J.P.


Correction--when I say "drink" I mean "drip out my nose."

Arthur is 90 years old. He's played golf every day
since his retirement 25 years ago. One day he arrives
home looking downcast.
"That's it", he tells his wife. "I'm giving up golf.
My eyesight has gotten so bad that once I'd hit the
ball I can't see where it went."
His wife sympathizes and makes him a cup of tea. As
they sit down she says, "Why don't you take my
brother Fred with you and give it one more try".

"That's no good" sighs Arthur. "Your brother's a
hundred and three. He can't help".
"He may be a hundred and three", says the wife, "but
his eyesight is perfect."
So the next day Arthur heads off to the golf course
with his brother-in-law Fred. He tees up, takes an
almighty swing and squints down the fairway. He turns
to Fred and asks, "Did you see the ball?"

"Of course I did barks Fred!"
"Where did it go?" says Arthur.
"I don' t remember".

An archaeologist had reached the edge of the Sahara Desert on his way to searching for the lost cities in the desert. Having no way to cross the desert he made his way to the camel stand located nearby. He started talking to the Arab who ran the stand about hiring a camel for the trip.

The Arab asked him, "Will you be needing a seven day camel or a fourteen day camel?"

The archaeologist was new at his job so he had to ask the Arab what the difference was. The man explained that the seven day camel could hold enough water for a seven day trip, while the fourteen day camel could hold enough water for a trip of fourteen days. The archaeologist said he would take the fourteen day camel.

The Arab asked him if he knew how to water his camel. Not wanting to appear inexperienced, the young archaeologist said that he did. So he loaded his gear on the camel, went to the water trough, watered the animal, and started on his way.

On their seventh day on the desert the camel keeled over and died of thirst. Naturally, this made the archaeologist very angry. He double-checked his contract and indeed he had hired a fourteen day camel. He grabbed the saddlebags from the camel and, still fuming with anger, started the long trek back to the camel stand.

When he finally arrived, he started cursing the Arab up and down. The man started shuffling through the contents of the saddle bags.

"Where are the two bricks that were in these bags?" said the Arab.

"What?! I removed them before I started the journey since I saw no reason to carry the extra weight," said the archaeologist.

"I asked you before you started if you knew how to water the camel and you said that you did. Those two bricks are the difference between a seven day camel and a fourteen day camel," said the Arab.

Seeing the obviously nonplussed look on the archaeologist's face, the Arab explained, "When a camel drinks water from the trough, he spreads his legs wide apart so his head can reach the water. In that position, the camel's genitals are exposed. You have to watch him closely and when it has drunk up all the water it can hold for seven days, you must sneak up behind him with a brick in each hand and slam them together on the camel's genitals. When you do that the camel puckers its mouth and goes 'OOOOOOOHHHHH' and sucks up enough water for seven more days."

The stunned archaeologist said, "Damn, doesn't that hurt?"

The Arab answered, "Not if you keep your thumbs out from between the bricks."

Ah yes, Peter; problems with our animal friends. Reminds me of the woman who walked into a pet shop and asked for a talking parrot. The shop owner told her that he had one left and could let her have it for only $5, but he warned her that a previous owner was a madam in a house of ill repute.

The woman replied that the price was a bargain and that the previous owner didn't matter to her, so she took it.

So she gets the cage home and uncovers it and the parrot immediately says "Ah; different brothel, different madam". The woman indignantly replies "This is no brothel and I am no madam!"

A short while later the woman's two adult daughters come to visit and the parrot comments "Ah; different brothel, different madam, different prostitutes". Even more indignantly, the woman tells him "This is no brothel, I am no madam, and these are my daughters!"

Just then the woman's husband, George, returns home from work and the parrot chirps "Ah; different brothel, different madam, different prostitutes. Oh hello, George, nice to see you again!"