<?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-2825291655157682804</id><updated>2011-12-27T10:44:45.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Jokes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>117</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8506348521261292219</id><published>2011-12-27T10:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T10:44:45.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE  OSTRICH</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him.&lt;br /&gt;The waitress asks them for their orders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man says, "A hamburger, fries and a coke," and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;turns to the ostrich, "What's yours?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll have the same," says the ostrich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time later the waitress returns with the order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That will be $9.40 please." The man reaches into his pocket and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pulls out the exact change for payment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the man says, "A hamburger, fries and a coke."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ostrich says, "I'll have the same."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This becomes routine until the two enter again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The usual asks the waitress?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and a salad," says the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Same," says the ostrich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly the waitress brings the order and says, "That will be $32.62."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;places it on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you manage to always come up with the exact change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in your pocket every time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the man, "several years ago I was cleaning the attic and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;would always be there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's brilliant!" says the waitress. "Most people would ask for a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for as long as you live!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right…Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the exact money is always there," says the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress asks, "What's with the ostrich?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man sighs, pauses and answers, "My second wish was for a tall chick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with a big ass and long legs who agrees with everything I say.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8506348521261292219?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8506348521261292219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/ostrich.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8506348521261292219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8506348521261292219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/ostrich.html' title='THE  OSTRICH'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2998063376636351704</id><published>2011-10-01T15:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T15:46:17.441-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dying Husband</title><content type='html'>Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside.&lt;br /&gt;  He looked up and said weakly, "I have something I must confess."&lt;br /&gt;"There's no need to, " his wife replied.&lt;br /&gt;"No," he insisted, "I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!"&lt;br /&gt;"I know," she replied, "now just rest and let the poison work."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2998063376636351704?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2998063376636351704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/10/dying-husband.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2998063376636351704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2998063376636351704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/10/dying-husband.html' title='Dying Husband'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6352781829080131350</id><published>2011-09-28T19:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T19:58:23.144-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); " &gt;&lt;blockquote type="cite"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care of. He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head; he then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Curious I pinned a note to his collar: 'I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: 'He lives in a home with 6 children, 2 under the age of 3. He's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6352781829080131350?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6352781829080131350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/tired-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6352781829080131350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6352781829080131350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/tired-dog.html' title='Tired Dog'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7039522902632199098</id><published>2011-09-04T15:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T15:13:58.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Manners</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;During a good manners and etiquette class being held for young children, the teacher says to her students:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you were courting a well educated young girl from a prominent family and during a dinner for two you needed to go to the toilet, what would you say to her?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mike replies: "Wait a minute, I'm going for a piss."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The teacher says: "That would be very rude and improper on your part."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charlie replies: "I'm sorry I need to go to the toilet, I'll be back in a minute."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The teacher says: "That's much better but to mention the word ''toilet'' during a meal, is unpleasant."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Little Johnny says: "My dear, please excuse me for a moment. I have to go shake hands with a personal friend, whom, I hope to be able to introduce to you after dinner."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7039522902632199098?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7039522902632199098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/good-manners.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7039522902632199098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7039522902632199098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/good-manners.html' title='Good Manners'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1837860031237721487</id><published>2011-09-03T22:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T22:39:24.129-04:00</updated><title type='text'>nude statues in a park</title><content type='html'>&lt;span &gt;There were these two nude statues in a park, male     and female, who always stared at each other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span &gt;One day, a     wizard came up to them and said, "this is your 200th anniversary so I am going to     give you just 30 minutes of humanity so spend it well." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;span &gt;The wizard waved his wand and the two statues went behind one of     the big trees and the wizard heard giggles laughs and saw a little hanky panky but nothing     much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;span &gt;After fifteen minutes they came out exhausted and the wizard asked     why don't they do it again so as not to waste their 15 minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;span &gt;The male statue said to the female statue "Ok, but this time     you hold the pigeon and I crap on it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1837860031237721487?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1837860031237721487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/nude-statues-in-park.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1837860031237721487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1837860031237721487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/nude-statues-in-park.html' title='nude statues in a park'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4123549291844313517</id><published>2011-09-01T17:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T17:18:27.569-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Alzheimer's Test for Modern Seniors</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;blockquote type="cite"&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;div bg style="margin-top: 5px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 10px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="100%" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; direction: ltr; font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: black; font-size: 24pt; font-weight: bold; "&gt;Alzheimer's Test for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" style="margin-left: 10.5pt; "&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: black; font-size: 24pt; font-weight: bold; "&gt;Modern Seniors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 7.5pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 7.5pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: bold; "&gt;How fast can you guess these words?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 7.5pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;1. F_ _K&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;2.  PU_S_&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;3. S_X&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;4. P_N_S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;5. BOO_S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;6. _  _NDOM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;wbr&gt;------------------------------&lt;wbr&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;Answers:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;1. FORK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;2. PULSE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;3. SIX&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;4. PANTS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;5. BOOKS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;6. RANDOM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;You got all 6 wrong....didn't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;Don't worry. You don't have Alzheimer's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span   &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt; "&gt;You are just a pervert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4123549291844313517?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4123549291844313517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/alzheimers-test-for-modern-seniors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4123549291844313517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4123549291844313517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/alzheimers-test-for-modern-seniors.html' title='Alzheimer&apos;s Test for Modern Seniors'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3453540870376810209</id><published>2011-08-12T05:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T05:14:49.622-04:00</updated><title type='text'>32 Reasons why Cookie Dough is better than men.</title><content type='html'>1.  It's enjoyable hard or soft.&lt;br /&gt;2.  It makes a mess too, but it tastes better.&lt;br /&gt;3.  It doesn't mind if you take your anger out on it.&lt;br /&gt;4.  You always want to swallow.&lt;br /&gt;5.  It won't complain if you share it with friends.&lt;br /&gt;6.  It's "quick and convenient".&lt;br /&gt;7.  You can enjoy it more than once.&lt;br /&gt;8.  It comes already protectively wrapped.&lt;br /&gt;9.  You can make it as large as you want.&lt;br /&gt;10. If you don't finish it you can save it for later.&lt;br /&gt;11. It's easier to get the kind you want.&lt;br /&gt;12. You can comparison shop.&lt;br /&gt;13. It's easier to find in a grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;14. You can put it away when you've had enough.&lt;br /&gt;15. You know yours has never been eaten before.&lt;br /&gt;16. It won't complain if you chew on it.&lt;br /&gt;17. It comes chocolate flavored.&lt;br /&gt;18. You always know when to get rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;19. You can return it--satisfaction is guaranteed.&lt;br /&gt;20. It's always ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;21. You won't get arrested if you eat it in public.&lt;br /&gt;22. You don't have to change the sheets if you eat it in bed.&lt;br /&gt;23. It won't wake you up because it's hard.&lt;br /&gt;24. You don't have to find an excuse not to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;25. You can tell your friends how much you've eaten without sounding like&lt;br /&gt;    you're bragging.&lt;br /&gt;26. It won't take up room in your bed.&lt;br /&gt;27. It's easy to pick up.&lt;br /&gt;28. You never have unwanted cookie dough chasing you around.&lt;br /&gt;29. You know what the extra weight is from.&lt;br /&gt;30. It won't get jealous if you pick up another one.&lt;br /&gt;31. It never has an insecurity problem with its size.&lt;br /&gt;32. It is very pliable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3453540870376810209?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3453540870376810209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/08/32-reasons-why-cookie-dough-is-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3453540870376810209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3453540870376810209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/08/32-reasons-why-cookie-dough-is-better.html' title='32 Reasons why Cookie Dough is better than men.'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8547485595911892774</id><published>2011-07-26T08:40:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T08:40:43.654-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TENDER MOMENTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A woman's husband had been slipping in and out of a coma for several months, yet she had stayed by his bedside every single day.  One day when he came to, he motioned for her to come nearer. As she sat by him, he whispered, eyes full of tears, 'You know what? You have been with me all through the bad times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; When I got fired, you were there to support me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; When my business failed, you were there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; When I got shot, you were by my side. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; When we lost the house, you stayed right here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; When my health started failing, you were still by my side...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; You know what Martha?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; 'What dear?' she gently asked, smiling as her heart began to fill with warmth.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; 'I'm beginning to think you're just friggin' bad luck!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8547485595911892774?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8547485595911892774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/tender-moments.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8547485595911892774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8547485595911892774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/tender-moments.html' title='TENDER MOMENTS'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1472444744991084463</id><published>2011-07-16T13:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T13:43:01.529-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Underwear Is Important</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Always wear clean underwear in public, especially when working under your vehicle...From the Northwest Florida Daily Newscomes this story of a Crestview couple who drove their car to Wal-Mart, only to have their car break down in the parking lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man told his wife to carry on with the shopping while he fixed the car in the lot. The wife returned later to see a small group of people near the car. On closer inspection, she saw a pair of male legs protruding from under the chassis.  Although the man was in shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts into glaringly public ones.  Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward, quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She took a deep breath and stood up boldly to face the crowd. She looked across the hood and found herself staring at herhusband, who had been standing idly by. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1472444744991084463?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1472444744991084463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/underwear-is-important.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1472444744991084463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1472444744991084463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/underwear-is-important.html' title='Underwear Is Important'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5464709013357780159</id><published>2011-07-11T22:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T22:16:11.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Dogs Are Better Than Wives</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't cry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs love it when your friends come over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't care if you use their shampoo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs think you sing great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A dog's time in the bathroom is limited to a quick drink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't expect you to call them when you're running late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The later you are, the more excited dogs are to see you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs will forgive you for playing with other dogs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dogs name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs are excited by rough play.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't mind if you give their offspring away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs can appreciate excess body hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyone can get a good looking dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a dog is gorgeous, other dogs don't hate it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't shop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs like it when you leave lots of things on the floor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs never need to examine the relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A dog's parents never come to visit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs love long car trips.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs understand that instincts are better than asking for directions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't hate their bodies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No dog ever bought a Kenny G. album.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No dog ever put on a hundred pounds after reaching adulthood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs never criticize.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs never expect gifts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't worry about germs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't let magazine articles guide their life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs would rather you buy them a hamburger than a lobster dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You never have to wait for a dog, they're ready 24 hours a day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs have no use for flowers, cards, or jewelry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs don't borrow your shirts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs never want a foot rub.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs can't talk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs aren't catty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dogs seldom outlive you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5464709013357780159?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5464709013357780159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-dogs-are-better-than-wives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5464709013357780159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5464709013357780159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-dogs-are-better-than-wives.html' title='Why Dogs Are Better Than Wives'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7421934926789350118</id><published>2011-06-12T21:22:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T21:25:21.475-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Bra</title><content type='html'>Dr. Calvin Rickson, a scientist from Texas A&amp;amp;M University has invented a bra that keeps women's breasts from jiggling, bouncing up and down, and prevents the nipples from pushing through the fabric when cold weather sets in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a news conference, after announcing the invention, a large group of men took Dr. Rickson outside and kicked the crap out of him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7421934926789350118?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7421934926789350118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-bra.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7421934926789350118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7421934926789350118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-bra.html' title='New Bra'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6624769229757802223</id><published>2011-06-06T10:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T10:39:45.208-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Prison vs Work</title><content type='html'>IN PRISON . . . you spend the majority of your time in an 8X10 cell. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you spend the majority of your time in a 6X8 cubicle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you get three meals a day. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you only get a break for one meal and you have to pay for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you get time off for good behavior. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you get more work for good behavior. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you must carry around a security card and open all the &lt;br /&gt;doors for yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you can watch TV and play games. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you get fired for watching TV and playing games. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you get your own toilet. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you have to share with some idiot who pees on the seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . they allow your family and friends to visit. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you can't even speak to your family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . all expenses are paid by the taxpayer with no work required. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you get to pay all the expenses to go to work and then &lt;br /&gt;they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN PRISON . . . you must deal with sadistic wardens. &lt;br /&gt;AT WORK . . . they are called managers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6624769229757802223?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6624769229757802223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/prison-vs-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6624769229757802223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6624769229757802223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/prison-vs-work.html' title='Prison vs Work'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3639020736322118469</id><published>2011-05-22T10:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T10:01:09.455-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Skinny Dipping</title><content type='html'>An elderly man in Louisiana had owned a large farm for several years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a large pond in the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and looks it over. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the women shouted to him, 'We're not coming out until you leave!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man frowned, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding the bucket up he said, 'I'm here to feed the alligator.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3639020736322118469?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3639020736322118469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/skinny-dipping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3639020736322118469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3639020736322118469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/skinny-dipping.html' title='Skinny Dipping'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4885279956768376677</id><published>2011-05-13T20:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T20:16:52.964-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Problem Gambling</title><content type='html'>During an IRS audit, the auditor looked at the tax payer and exclaimed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... "Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it," says Ralph. "How about a demonstration?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor thinks for a moment and said, "Okay. Go ahead."&lt;br /&gt;Ralph says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor thinks a moment and says, "No way! It's a bet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph says, "Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor can tell Ralph isn't blind, so he takes the bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph removes his dentures and bites his good eye. The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Ralph's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Want to go double or nothing?" Ralph asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this guy can manage that stunt, so he agrees again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, and urinates all over the desk.&lt;br /&gt;The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Ralph's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you okay?" the auditor asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Ralph told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4885279956768376677?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4885279956768376677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/problem-gambling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4885279956768376677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4885279956768376677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/problem-gambling.html' title='Problem Gambling'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6766546154173806118</id><published>2011-02-14T12:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T12:09:00.399-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 reasons computers must be male</title><content type='html'>10. They have a lot of data but are still clueless.&lt;br /&gt;9. A better model is always just around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;8. They look nice and shiny until you bring them home.&lt;br /&gt;7. It is always necessary to have a backup.&lt;br /&gt;6. They'll do whatever you say if you push the right buttons.&lt;br /&gt;5. The best part of having either one is the games you can play.&lt;br /&gt;4. In order to get their attention, you have to turn them on.&lt;br /&gt;3. The lights are on but nobody's home.&lt;br /&gt;2. Big power surges knock them out for the night.&lt;br /&gt;1. Size does matter&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6766546154173806118?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6766546154173806118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/02/top-10-reasons-computers-must-be-male.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6766546154173806118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6766546154173806118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/02/top-10-reasons-computers-must-be-male.html' title='Top 10 reasons computers must be male'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4440449017301422282</id><published>2011-02-12T12:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T12:00:19.369-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ACTUAL HEADLINES...</title><content type='html'>POLICE BEGIN CAMPAIGN TO RUN DOWN JAYWALKERS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    SAFETY EXPERTS SAY SCHOOL BUS PASSENGERS SHOULD BE BELTED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    DRUNK GETS NINE MONTHS IN VIOLIN CASE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    SURVIVOR OF SIAMESE TWINS JOINS PARENTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    FARMER BILL DIES IN HOUSE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    IRAQI HEAD SEEKS ARMS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    PROSTITUTES APPEAL TO POPE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    BRITISH LEFT WAFFLES ON FALKLAND ISLANDS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    EYE DROPS OFF SHELF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    TEACHER STRIKES IDLE KIDS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    SQUAD HELPS DOG BITE VICTIM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    ENRAGED COW INJURES FARMER WITH AX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    PLANE TOO CLOSE TO GROUND, CRASH PROBE TOLD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    MINERS REFUSE TO WORK AFTER DEATH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    JUVENILE COURT TO TRY SHOOTING DEFENDANT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    STOLEN PAINTING FOUND BY TREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    TWO SOVIET SHIPS COLLIDE, ONE DIES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    2 SISTERS REUNITED AFTER 18 YEARS IN CHECKOUT COUNTER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    KILLER SENTENCED TO DIE FOR SECOND TIME IN 10 YEARS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    DRUNKEN DRIVERS PAID $1000 IN '84&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    WAR DIMS HOPE FOR PEACE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    IF STRIKE ISN'T SETTLED QUICKLY, IT MAY LAST A WHILE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    COLD WAVE LINKED TO TEMPERATURES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    ENFIELD COUPLE SLAIN; POLICE SUSPECT HOMICIDE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4440449017301422282?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4440449017301422282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/02/actual-headlines.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4440449017301422282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4440449017301422282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2011/02/actual-headlines.html' title='ACTUAL HEADLINES...'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2382661771767948737</id><published>2010-12-05T21:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T21:58:17.421-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Actual Letters to Landlords</title><content type='html'>"The toilet is blocked and we cannot bathe the children until it is cleared."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you please send someone to mend our cracked sidewalk. Yesterday my wife tripped on it and is now pregnant."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want some repairs done to my stove as it has backfired and burnt my nob off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is to let you know that there is a smell coming from the man next door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is running away from the wall."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I request your permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Our lavatory seat is broken in half and is now in three pieces."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When the workmen were here they put their tools in my wife's new drawers and made a mess. Please send men with clean tools to finish the job and keep my wife happy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2382661771767948737?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2382661771767948737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/actual-letters-to-landlords.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2382661771767948737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2382661771767948737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/actual-letters-to-landlords.html' title='Actual Letters to Landlords'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8226290851772499807</id><published>2010-11-24T19:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T19:15:39.724-05:00</updated><title type='text'>AN ITALIAN BOY’S CONFESSION</title><content type='html'>Bless me Father, for I have sinned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been with a loose girl’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest asks, ‘Is that you, little Joey Pagano ?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Yes, Father, it is.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘And who was the girl you were with?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I can’t tell you, Father. I don’t want to ruin her reputation’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, Joey, I’m sure to find out her name sooner or later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I cannot say.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I’ll never tell.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Was it Nina Capelli?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I’m sorry, but I cannot name her.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Was it Cathy Piriano?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘My lips are sealed.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Please, Father, I cannot tell you.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest sighs in frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘You’re very tight lipped, and I admire that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you’ve sinned and have to atone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you go and behave yourself.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joey walks back to his pew,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and his friend Franco slides over and whispers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘What’d you get?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Four months vacation and five good leads.’&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8226290851772499807?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8226290851772499807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/italian-boys-confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8226290851772499807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8226290851772499807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/italian-boys-confession.html' title='AN ITALIAN BOY’S CONFESSION'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2129904325513888285</id><published>2010-11-05T14:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T14:27:46.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IBirthday</title><content type='html'>March was when my son celebrated his 15th birthday,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I got him an iPhone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He just loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wouldn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I celebrated my birthday in July,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my wife made me very happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she bought me an iPad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter's birthday was in August&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got her an iPod Touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September came by so for my wife's birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got her an iRon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around then that the fight started......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What my wife failed to recognize is that the iRon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can be integrated into the home network with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The iWash, iCook and iClean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This inevitably activates the iNag reminder service.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2129904325513888285?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2129904325513888285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/ibirthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2129904325513888285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2129904325513888285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/ibirthday.html' title='IBirthday'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6128052272138110456</id><published>2010-10-31T22:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T22:26:49.813-04:00</updated><title type='text'>26 Signs You're An Adult</title><content type='html'>a.  Your potted plants stay alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b.  Having sex in a twin sized bed is absurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c.  You keep more food than beer in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;d.  6:00am is when you get up, not when you go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e.  You hear your favorite song on an elevator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;f.  You carry an umbrella. You watch the Weather Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;g.  Your friends marry and divorce instead of hookup and&lt;br /&gt; breakup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;h.  You go from 130 days of vacation time to 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i.  Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as 'dressed up'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;j.  You're the one calling the police because those darn&lt;br /&gt; kids next door don't know how to turn down the&lt;br /&gt; stereo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k.  Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes&lt;br /&gt; around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;l.  You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;m.  Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n.  You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o.  Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.  You no longer take naps from noon to 6 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;q.  Dinner and a movie - The whole date instead of the&lt;br /&gt; beginning of one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;r.  MTV News is no longer your primary source for information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s.  You go to the drugstore for Ibuprofen and antacids, not&lt;br /&gt; condoms and pregnancy test kits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;t.  A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer 'pretty good stuff.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;u.  You actually eat breakfast foods at breakfast time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;v.  Grocery lists are longer than macaroni &amp; cheese, Pepsi&lt;br /&gt; &amp; Ding Dongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;w.  "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm&lt;br /&gt; never going to drink that much again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x.  Over 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is&lt;br /&gt; for real work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;y.  You don't drink at home to save money before going to&lt;br /&gt; a bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;z.  You read this entire list looking for one sign that&lt;br /&gt; doesn't apply to you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6128052272138110456?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6128052272138110456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/10/26-signs-youre-adult.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6128052272138110456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6128052272138110456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/10/26-signs-youre-adult.html' title='26 Signs You&apos;re An Adult'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3049437988917050827</id><published>2010-10-21T21:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T21:59:38.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex Toy Shop Order</title><content type='html'>DEAR MADAM:&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANK YOU FOR YOUR RECENT ORDER FROM OUR SEX TOYS SHOP.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU ASKED FOR THE LARGE RED VIBRATOR AS FEATURED ON OUR WALL DISPLAY.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE SELECT ANOTHER ITEM BECAUSE THAT IS OUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3049437988917050827?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3049437988917050827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/10/sex-toy-shop-order.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3049437988917050827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3049437988917050827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/10/sex-toy-shop-order.html' title='Sex Toy Shop Order'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7702387324560322741</id><published>2010-09-22T20:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T20:44:19.308-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Condom Packs</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; A man walks into a drug store with his 8-year old son. &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;They happen to walk by the condom display, and the boy asks,"What are these, Dad?"&lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt; To which  the man matter-of-factly replies, "Those are called condoms, son. Men use them to have safe sex."&lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;"Oh I see," replied the boy pensively.  Yes, I've  heard of that in health class at school."  He looks over the display and  picks up a package of 3 and asks, "Why  are there 3 in this package? " &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;The dad replies,"Those are for high school boys, ONE for Friday, ONE for Saturday, and ONE for Sunday." &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;"Cool" says the boy.  He notices a 6 pack and asks, "Then who are these for?" &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;"Those are for  college men," the dad answers, TWO for Friday, TWO for Saturday, and  TWO for Sunday." &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;"WOW!" exclaimed the boy, "then who uses THESE?" he asks, picking up a   12 pack!"  &lt;/p&gt;                 &lt;p&gt;With a sigh and a tear in his eye, the dad replied,  "Those are for the married men. ONE for January, ONE for February, ONE  for March....etc."                  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7702387324560322741?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7702387324560322741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/condom-packs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7702387324560322741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7702387324560322741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/condom-packs.html' title='Condom Packs'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-193679999847934702</id><published>2010-09-08T20:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T20:49:47.018-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Period</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A kindergarten class had a homework assignment to find out something exciting and relate it to the class the next day. When the time came to present what they'd found, the first little boy called upon walked up to the front of the class, and with a piece of chalk, made a small white dot on the blackboard and sat back down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Puzzled the teacher asked him just what it was. "It's a period," said the little boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well, I can see that," she said, "but what is so exciting about a period?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Darned if I know," said the little boy, "But this morning my sister was missing one, Daddy had a heart attack, Mommy fainted and the man next door shot himself." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-193679999847934702?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/193679999847934702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/missing-period.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/193679999847934702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/193679999847934702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/missing-period.html' title='Missing Period'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7807351396836449659</id><published>2010-09-07T22:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T22:09:35.551-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband &amp; Wife At Breakfast</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The wife and I were sitting around the breakfast table one lazy Sunday morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I said to her, “If I were to die suddenly, I want you to immediately sell all my stuff.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;“Now why would you want me to do something like that?” she asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;“I figure that you would eventually remarry and I don’t want some asshole using my stuff.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She looked at me and said: “What makes you think I’d marry another asshole?”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7807351396836449659?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7807351396836449659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/husband-wife-at-breakfast.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7807351396836449659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7807351396836449659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/husband-wife-at-breakfast.html' title='Husband &amp; Wife At Breakfast'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6552822012551661460</id><published>2010-08-29T21:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T21:24:28.334-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Men and Difficult Woman</title><content type='html'>A brand new store has just opened in New York City that sells Husbands. When women go to choose a husband, they have to follow the instructions at the entrance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may visit this store ONLY ONCE!" There are 6 floors and the value of the products increase as you ascend the flights. You may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you CANNOT go back down except to exit the building! So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 1st floor the sign on the door reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 1 - These men have jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2nd floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 2 - These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 3rd floor sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;Floor 3 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids and are extremely good looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow," she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She goes to the 4th floor and the sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;Floor 4 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help with Housework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, mercy me!" she exclaims, "I can hardly stand it!" Still, she goes to the 5th floor and sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor 5 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, help with Housework and Have A Strong Romantic Streak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the 6th floor and the sign reads:&lt;br /&gt;Floor 6 - You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not over yet, To avoid gender bias charges, the store's owner opens a New Wives store just across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 1st floor has wives that love sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2nd floor has wives that love sex and have money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 3rd through 6th floors have never been visited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6552822012551661460?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6552822012551661460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/men-and-difficult-woman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6552822012551661460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6552822012551661460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/men-and-difficult-woman.html' title='Men and Difficult Woman'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-9150514793388904840</id><published>2010-08-27T22:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T22:31:00.194-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Making A Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a  surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father  was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm  off now. The man should be here soon."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer  happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good  morning,Ma'am", he said, "I've come to..."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Oh, no need to explain," Mrs Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my speciality?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat".&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the  couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room  floor is fun. You can really spread out there."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if  we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles,  I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"My, that is a lot!", gasped Mrs Smith.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be  In and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with  that."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Don't I know it," said Mrs Smith quietly.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of  his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Oh, my God!" Mrs Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"She was difficult?" asked Mrs Smith.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the  job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a  good look"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Four and five deep?" said Mrs Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too.  The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly  concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots.  Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had  to pack it all in."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Mrs Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh...equipment?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"It's true, Ma'am, yes... Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Tripod?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Then Mrs Smith fainted.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-9150514793388904840?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9150514793388904840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9150514793388904840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9150514793388904840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-baby.html' title='Making A Baby'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8823208392784524826</id><published>2010-08-26T22:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T22:26:00.572-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sheep Or Pig</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A guy walks into his bedroom with a sheep under his arm and says  "Darling, this is the pig I have sex with when you have a headache."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;His wife is lying in bed and replies "I think you'll find that's a sheep, you idiot."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The man says "I think you'll find I wasn't talking to you."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8823208392784524826?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8823208392784524826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/sheep-or-pig.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8823208392784524826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8823208392784524826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/sheep-or-pig.html' title='Sheep Or Pig'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6447947587391421034</id><published>2010-08-25T22:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T22:25:14.167-04:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Nuns And A Father</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre style="text-align: left; text-decoration: none; color: black;"&gt;Three nuns were talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first nun said, "I was cleaning in Father's room the other day&lt;br /&gt;and do you know what I found? A bunch of pornographic magazines."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did you do?" the other nuns asked. "Well, of course I threw&lt;br /&gt;them in the trash."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second nun said, "Well, I can top that. I was in Father's room&lt;br /&gt;putting away the laundry and I found a bunch of condoms!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my!" gasped the other nuns. "What did you do?" they asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I poked holes in all of them!" she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third nun fainted.&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6447947587391421034?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6447947587391421034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/3-nuns-and-father.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6447947587391421034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6447947587391421034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/3-nuns-and-father.html' title='3 Nuns And A Father'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4497915367917206526</id><published>2010-08-18T18:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T18:32:57.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Garbage Bags</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;&lt;blockquote type="cite" style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;A little old lady is walking down the street dragging two large plastic garbage bags behind her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  One of the bags rips, and every once in a while a $20 bill falls out onto the sidewalk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Noticing this, a policeman stops her, and says, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;"Ma'am, there are $20 bills falling out of your bag." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; "Oh, really?   Darn," says the little old lady. "I'd better go back, and see if I can find them. Thanks for telling me..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  "Well, now, not so fast," says the cop. "How did you get all that money? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;      You didn't steal it, did you?"   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; "Oh, no,' says the little old lady. You see, my back yard is right next to the football stadium parking lot.   On game days, a lot of fans come and pee through the fence into my flower garden .  So, I stand behind the fence with my hedge clippers.  Each time some guy sticks his thing through the fence, I grab it and I say,  '$20 or off it comes!'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  "OK, that seems only fair," laughs the cop.  "So, good luck.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Oh, by the way, what's in the other bag?"   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; "Well, you know", says the little old lady, "not everybody pays."   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="100%" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4497915367917206526?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4497915367917206526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/two-garbage-bags.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4497915367917206526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4497915367917206526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/two-garbage-bags.html' title='Two Garbage Bags'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-573717655809127544</id><published>2010-08-14T22:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T22:00:18.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hooker</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A man is walking around New York with his wife. They find a&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;perfume shop, the wife goes in, and he waits outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A hooker comes along and says to him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Like to come home with me, buddy? "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"For how much?" asks the man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"One hundred dollars," the hooker answers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'll give you five bucks," he replies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hooker swears at him and walks away. A little later, the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;man's wife comes out of the shop and they continue their walk. As&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they round the corner, there stands the same hooker. She takes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;one look at the man and his wife and says,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"HA! see what you get for five bucks?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-573717655809127544?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/573717655809127544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/hooker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/573717655809127544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/573717655809127544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/hooker.html' title='Hooker'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8210768092869001722</id><published>2010-07-18T22:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T22:27:45.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I just want you to hold me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, the passion starts to heat up, and we were kissing and hugging etc, and just as I thought we were getting down to the nitty gritty, she says, "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I said, "WHAT??!! What was that?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, "Lets get a pair for each outfit."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you... she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, "WHAT?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I then said, "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8210768092869001722?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8210768092869001722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-just-want-you-to-hold-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8210768092869001722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8210768092869001722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-just-want-you-to-hold-me.html' title='I just want you to hold me'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4893985934772965743</id><published>2010-07-04T10:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T10:01:27.399-04:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Year Old Boy Custody Case</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A seven-year-old boy was at the center of a Boston&lt;br /&gt;courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who&lt;br /&gt;should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in  keeping&lt;br /&gt;with child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be&lt;br /&gt;maintained to the degree possible.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him&lt;br /&gt;more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When&lt;br /&gt;the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy&lt;br /&gt;cried out that they also beat him.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning&lt;br /&gt;that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the&lt;br /&gt;judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who&lt;br /&gt;should have custody of him. After two recesses to check legal references&lt;br /&gt;and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary&lt;br /&gt;custody to the Boston Red Sox, whom the boy firmly believes is not&lt;br /&gt;capable of beating anyone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4893985934772965743?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4893985934772965743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/7-year-old-boy-custody-case.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4893985934772965743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4893985934772965743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/7-year-old-boy-custody-case.html' title='7 Year Old Boy Custody Case'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1047084321106579591</id><published>2010-07-04T02:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T02:30:53.805-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Management Lesson</title><content type='html'>A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold, the bird froze and fell to the ground in a large field. While it was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on it. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, it began to realize how warm it was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Management Lessons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   1. Not everyone who drops shit on you is your enemy.&lt;br /&gt;   2. Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.&lt;br /&gt;   3. When you're in deep shit, keep your mouth shut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1047084321106579591?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1047084321106579591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/management-lesson.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1047084321106579591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1047084321106579591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/07/management-lesson.html' title='Management Lesson'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7944153863658763160</id><published>2010-06-20T18:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T18:40:30.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pillsbury Doughboy Died</title><content type='html'>Dear friends,&lt;br /&gt;It is with the saddest heart that I pass on the following.  Please join&lt;br /&gt;me in remembering a great icon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and&lt;br /&gt;complications from repeated pokes in the belly.  He was 71.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin.  Dozens of celebrities&lt;br /&gt;turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs.  Butterworth, Hungry&lt;br /&gt;Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and&lt;br /&gt;Cap'n Crunch.  The grave site was piled high with flours as long- time&lt;br /&gt;friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man&lt;br /&gt;who never knew how much he was kneaded.  Doughboy rose quickly in show&lt;br /&gt;business, but his later life was filled with turnovers.  He was not&lt;br /&gt;considered a very "smart" cookie, wasting much of his dough on&lt;br /&gt;half-baked schemes.  Despite being a little flaky at times, he -- even&lt;br /&gt;still, as a crusty old man -- was considered a roll model for millions. &lt;br /&gt;Toward the end, it was thought he would rise again, but alas, he was no&lt;br /&gt;tart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough; two children, John Dough&lt;br /&gt;and Jane Dough; plus they had one in the oven.  He is also survived by&lt;br /&gt;his elderly father, Pop Tart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twenty minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7944153863658763160?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7944153863658763160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/pillsbury-doughboy-died.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7944153863658763160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7944153863658763160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/pillsbury-doughboy-died.html' title='The Pillsbury Doughboy Died'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-933339604536492119</id><published>2010-06-20T11:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T11:30:26.533-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Deer Hunter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Original ad:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Looking for permission to deer hunt (bow, shotgun) on a property in Bucks County.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a very responsible hunter. Willing to compensate you for your permission.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to ************@**********.org&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will let you hunt in my backyard. I live in an area that is infested with deer. You are more than welcome to kill as many of those white-tailed bastards from hell as you want.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I only have one small favor to ask - let me know if you are interested.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Dennis ********* to Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mike,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you. I only plan on bagging one or two deer. Is your property available this weekend? What is your favor?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dennis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to Dennis *********:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dennis,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you are concerned about not having enough room in your truck to bring the deer back, don't worry about it. You can just leave the pile of carcases in my backyard and I'll take care of them. I'll probably just drop them down my neighbor's well, or put them in my wood burner. Burning dead deer makes my house smell nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The one favor I am asking of you shouldn't be that much of a problem. My neighbor has this goddamn cat that always wanders into my yard at night and meows. It wakes me up and I am unable to fall back asleep. Also, I can't tell you how many times I have stepped in cat shit on my patio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I ask of you is that if you see my neighbor's cat wander into my yard, please blow that son-of-a-bitch straight to hell. Shotgun or crossbow, I don't care how you do it. Try to make it look like an accident though if my neighbor sees it happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend is fine for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Dennis ********* to Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How close is your neighbor's house? I was under the impression that you had a large plot of land.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel uncomfortable with the idea of killing your neighbor's cat. Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to Dennis *********:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My neighbor's house is about 50 yards from my house. Why won't you kill the cat? Just pretend it is a deer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Dennis ********* to Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The cat is someone's pet that they love. I won't kill it. I am willing to compensate you some other way. Have you had a talk with your neighbor about your problems with their cat?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to Dennis *********:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't believe this. A hunter that loves animals. Now I've seen everything. I can't talk to my neighbor - she has a restraining order on me from when I went over there and punted her cat like a football.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, if you kill the cat, my neighbor will have no idea. I was thinking - you said you had a bow and arrow, right? Would you be able to get those arrows with the explosive tip, like the ones Rambo uses? That would surely blow the cat into unrecognizable pieces and my neighbor would never even be able to find it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Dennis ********* to Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm fairly certain that those arrows are fictional. That is beyond the point because I am not shooting a cat. End of discussion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to Dennis *********:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is this some kind of a joke? Are you from PETA? Just kill the goddamn cat and you can shoot all of the deer that you want. I'll even have the grill fired up so we can enjoy some freshly-killed venison.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, even if those arrows aren't real, they don't seem that hard to make. What about that thing that Arnold used in Predator? Didn't he just take grenade launcher rounds and tie them to an arrow? Try that. Do you have an M203? That would work even better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Dennis ********* to Me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll find somewhere else to hunt, thanks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Me to Dennis *********:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope that while you are hunting, you miss your shot and accidentally kill a cat anyway, you pussy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-933339604536492119?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/933339604536492119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/deer-hunter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/933339604536492119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/933339604536492119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/deer-hunter.html' title='Deer Hunter'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4231573788981897395</id><published>2010-06-14T21:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T21:27:27.298-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Owe My Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;1.    My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. My mother taught me RELIGION. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You better pray that will come out of the carpet."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. My mother taught me LOGIC.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Because,  I  said so, that's why."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. My  mother taught me FORESIGHT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. My mother taught me IRONY. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8..  My mother taught me about the  science of OSMOSIS .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Shut your mouth and eat your supper."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. My mother taught  me about CONTORTIONISM.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. My mother taught me about STAMINA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.  My mother taught me about  WEATHER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. My mother  taught me about HYPOCRISY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF  LIFE..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. My mother  taught me about BEHAVIOUR MODIFICATION .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Stop acting like your father!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. My  mother taught me about ENVY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. My mother  taught me about ANTICIPATION.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Just wait until we get home."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. My mother taught  me about RECEIVING .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You are going to get it when you get home!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to get stuck that way."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. My mother taught me ESP.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20.  My mother taught me HUMOUR.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. My mother taught me GENETICS. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You're just like your father."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. My mother taught me about my  ROOTS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Shut that door behind you.  Do you think you were born in a barn?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. My mother taught me WISDOM. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When you get to be my age, you'll understand."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my favorite: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25  My mother taught me about JUSTICE  .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4231573788981897395?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4231573788981897395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-owe-my-mother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4231573788981897395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4231573788981897395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-owe-my-mother.html' title='I Owe My Mother'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2348469186985090057</id><published>2010-06-01T13:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T13:34:48.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>funeral procession</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A man was leaving a convenience store with his morning coffee when he noticed a most unusual funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A long black hearse was followed by a second long black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one.  Behind the second hearse was a solitary man walking a dog on a leash.  Behind him, a short distance back, were about 200 men walking single file. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man couldn't stand the curiosity.  He respectfully approached the man walking the dog and said, "I am so sorry for your loss, and this may be a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen a funeral like this.  Whose funeral is it?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"My wife's." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What happened to her?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man replied, "My dog attacked and killed her." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He inquired further, "But who is in the second hearse?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man answered, "My mother-in-law.  She was trying to help my wife when the dog turned on her." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A poignant and thoughtful moment of silence passed between the two men. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Can I borrow the dog?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man replied, "Get in line."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2348469186985090057?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2348469186985090057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/funeral-procession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2348469186985090057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2348469186985090057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/funeral-procession.html' title='funeral procession'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5650379413993161075</id><published>2010-05-22T17:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T17:33:37.445-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Half-Chewed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;Grandchild: How do you know when it’s true love?&lt;br /&gt;Grandma: If you are willing to take his half-chewed food from his mouth and finish eating it, that’s true love.&lt;br /&gt;Grandchild: Eeeew!&lt;br /&gt;Grandma: It’s true! Why the first time I laid eyes on your grandfather, I told myself, ‘For that boy, I’d swallow’.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5650379413993161075?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5650379413993161075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/half-chewed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5650379413993161075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5650379413993161075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/half-chewed.html' title='Half-Chewed'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8482684007195870142</id><published>2010-05-11T21:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T21:27:10.777-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to Jesse James</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Jesse,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You Stupid Bastard!  You cheated on Sandra Bullock?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How in the world can you be so stupid?  You are married to one of the most beautiful women in the world. She has a body to die for and her current wealth shadowed only by Oprah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your wife, recently beat out Julia Roberts in the polls and is now named "America's Sweetheart."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You also remember, she just won an Oscar and praised you up and down in front of the world while you were porkin’ away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are really a piece of work!  You are the most hated asshole cheater on the planet!  How can you live with yourself! I only have one thing to say to the despicable, miserable, cheating piece of shit that you are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for taking the heat off of me. Let’s do lunch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; ~Tiger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8482684007195870142?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8482684007195870142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter-to-jesse-james.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8482684007195870142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8482684007195870142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter-to-jesse-james.html' title='Letter to Jesse James'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-9085093896354481855</id><published>2010-05-04T18:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T18:33:13.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>True Love</title><content type='html'>The wife and I  were sitting around the breakfast table one lazy  Sunday morning.  I said to her, "If I were to die suddenly, I want you to  immediately sell all my stuff.."....."Now why would you want me to do something like that?" she asked. "I figure that you would eventually remarry and I don't want some asshole using my stuff..." She looked at me and  said: "What makes you think I'd marry another asshole?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-9085093896354481855?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9085093896354481855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/true-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9085093896354481855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9085093896354481855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/true-love.html' title='True Love'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2128722020513493541</id><published>2010-05-03T19:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T19:11:06.953-04:00</updated><title type='text'>MORE EVIDENCE THAT THIS WORLD IS FULL OF COMPLETE IDIOTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Police in Wichita, Kansas, arrested a 22-year-old man at an airport hotel after he tried to pass two (counterfeit) $16 bills.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man in Johannesburg, South Africa, shot his 49-year-old  friend in the face, seriously wounding him, while the two practiced shooting beer cans off each other's head.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A company trying to continue its five-year perfect safety  record showed its workers a film aimed at encouraging the use of safety goggles on the job.  According to Industrial Machinery News, the film's depiction of gory industrial accidents was so graphic that twenty-five workers suffered minor injuries in their rush to leave the screening room.  Thirteen others fainted, and one man required seven stitches after he cut his head falling off a chair while watching the film.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Chico, California, City Council enacted a ban on nuclear weapons, setting a $500 fine for anyone detonating one within city limits.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A bus carrying five passengers was hit by a car in St. Louis,  but by the time police arrived on the scene, fourteen pedestrians had boarded the bus and had begun to complain of whiplash injuries and back pain.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A convict broke out of jail in Washington DC, then a few days later he accompanied his girlfriend to her trial for robbery.  At lunch, he went out for a sandwich.  She needed to see him, and thus had him paged. Police officers recognized his name and arrested him as he returned to the courthouse in a car he had stolen over the lunch hour.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Police in Radnor, Pennsylvania, interrogated a suspect by  placing a metal colander on his head and connecting it with wires to a photocopy machine.  The message "He's lying" was placed in the copier, and police pressed the copy button each time they thought the suspect wasn't telling the truth. Believing the "lie detector" was working, the suspect confessed.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When two service station attendants in Ionia, Michigan, refused  to hand over the cash to an intoxicated robber, the man threatened to call the police.  They still refused, so the robber called the police and was arrested.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Los Angeles man who later said he was "tired of walking,"  stole a steam-roller and led police on a 5 mph chase until an officer stepped aboard and brought the vehicle to a stop. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2128722020513493541?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2128722020513493541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-evidence-that-this-world-is-full.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2128722020513493541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2128722020513493541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-evidence-that-this-world-is-full.html' title='MORE EVIDENCE THAT THIS WORLD IS FULL OF COMPLETE IDIOTS'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8560406554812040101</id><published>2010-04-30T20:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T20:53:14.708-04:00</updated><title type='text'>EMBARRASSING MEDICAL EXAMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;1. A man comes into the ER and yells . . ....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'My wife's  going to have her baby in the cab.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady's&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;dress and began to take off her underwear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suddenly I noticed that there were several cabs - - -&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and I was in the wrong one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr. Mark MacDonald,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;San Francisco&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. At the beginning of my shift&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I placed a stethoscope on an elderly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and slightly deaf female patient's anterior chest wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Big breaths,'. . .  I instructed.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Yes, they used to be,'. ... .replied the patient.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr. Richard Byrnes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seattle , WA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.. One day I had to be the bearer of bad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;news when I told a wife that her husband had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;died of a massive myocardial infarct.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not more than five minutes later, I heard her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;reporting to the rest of the family that he had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;died of a 'massive internal fart.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr... Susan Steinberg&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. During a patient's two week follow-up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;appointment with his cardiologist, he informed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;one of his medications..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;' Which one ?'. . . I asked. 'The patch....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours and now I'm running out of places to put it !'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had him quickly undress and discovered what I hoped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, the instructions include removal of&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the old  patch before applying a new one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr. Rebecca St. Clair,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Norfolk , VA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked, 'How long have you been bedridden?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a look of complete confusion she answered . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;' Why, not for about twenty years - when  my husband was alive.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr. Steven Swanson-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Corvallis , OR&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. I was performing rounds at the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hospital one morning and while checking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;up on a man I asked . . .' So how's your&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;breakfast this morning?' ' It's very good&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can't seem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to get used to the taste.'. . ... Bob replied.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I then asked to see the jelly and Bob produced&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a foil packet labeled 'KY Jelly.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by Dr... Leonard Kransdorf,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Detroit ,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. A nurse was on duty in the Emergency Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when a young woman with purple hair styled&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;into a punk rocker Mohawk, sporting  a variety&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;of tattoos, and wearing strange clothing,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;entered . .. . It  was quickly determined that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;scheduled for immediate surgery.. When she was completely disrobed on the operating&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;been dyed green and above it there was a&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tattoo that read . . .' Keep off the grass.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once the surgery was completed, the surgeon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;wrote a short note on the patient's dressing,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;which said 'Sorry . . . had to  mow the lawn.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Submitted by RN no name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; AND FINALLY!! ! . . . .. . ... . ... . . . . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; 8. As a new, young MD doing his residency in OB.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was quite embarrassed when performing female&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;pelvic exams........... To cover my embarrassment&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The middle-aged lady upon whom I was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and further embarrassing me..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I looked up from my work and sheepishly said..  .. ....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;' I'm sorry. Was I tickling you?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She replied with tears running down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;her cheeks from laughing so hard . . ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;' No doctor  but the song you were whistling was . .... .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;' I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener.' '&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Dr. wouldn't submit his name....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8560406554812040101?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8560406554812040101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/embarrassing-medical-exams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8560406554812040101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8560406554812040101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/embarrassing-medical-exams.html' title='EMBARRASSING MEDICAL EXAMS'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6530726326408349205</id><published>2010-04-18T21:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T21:29:37.140-04:00</updated><title type='text'>true romance</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A man is dining in a fancy restaurant and there is a gorgeous redhead sitting at the next table. He has been checking her out since he sat down, but lacks the nerve to talk with her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suddenly she sneezes, and her glass eye comes flying out of its socket toward the man. He reflexively reaches out, grabs it out of the air, and hands it back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Oh my, I am so sorry,' the woman says as she pops her eye back in place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Let me buy your dinner to make it up to you,' she says.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They enjoy a wonderful dinner together, and afterwards they go to the theatre followed by drinks. They talk, they laugh, she shares her deepest dreams and he shares his. She listens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After paying for everything, she asks him if he would like to come to her place for a nightcap and stay for breakfast. They had a wonderful, wonderful time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next morning, she cooks a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. The guy is amazed. Everything had been SO incredible! 'You know,' he said, 'you are the perfect woman. Are you this nice to every guy you meet?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'No,' she replies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wait for it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's coming...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The suspense is killing you, isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'You just happened to catch my eye!!!!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6530726326408349205?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6530726326408349205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/true-romance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6530726326408349205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6530726326408349205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/true-romance.html' title='true romance'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5097767659264460618</id><published>2010-04-10T21:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T21:31:07.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Man &amp; A Woman On A Train</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A man and a woman who had never met before,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but who were both married to other people,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a trans-continental train.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,.......... 'Ma'am,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm awfully cold.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'I have a better idea,' she replied 'Just for tonight,...... let's pretend that we're married.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Wow!.................. .... That's a great idea!', he exclaimed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Good,' she replied. .............'Get your own fucking blanket.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a moment of silence, ...................... he farted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5097767659264460618?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5097767659264460618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/man-woman-on-train.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5097767659264460618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5097767659264460618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/man-woman-on-train.html' title='A Man &amp; A Woman On A Train'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1247925437162916401</id><published>2010-03-14T06:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T06:19:33.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Explosive Underwear</title><content type='html'>A bank robber in Virginia Beach got a nasty surprise when a dye pack designed to mark stolen money exploded in his Fruit-of-the- Looms. The robber apparently stuffed the loot down the front of his pants as he was running out the door. "He was seen hopping and jumping around," said police spokesman Mike Carey, "with an explosion taking place inside his pants." Police have the man's charred trousers in custody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1247925437162916401?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1247925437162916401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/explosive-underwear.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1247925437162916401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1247925437162916401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/explosive-underwear.html' title='Explosive Underwear'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8866353801374684520</id><published>2010-03-13T22:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T22:55:08.668-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cancel Your Credit Cards Before You Die</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "I am calling to tell you that she died in January."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Maybe you should turn it over to collections."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "So what will they do when they find out she is dead?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Either report her account to the frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Excuse me?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Supervisor gets on the phone:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you, she died in January."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Are you her lawyer?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Lawyer info given)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Sure." (fax number is given)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After they get the fax:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Our system just isn't set up for death. I don't know what more I can do to help."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. I don't think she will care."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "That might help."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Citibank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family Member: "What do you do with dead people on your planet?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8866353801374684520?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8866353801374684520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/cancel-your-credit-cards-before-you-die.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8866353801374684520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8866353801374684520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/cancel-your-credit-cards-before-you-die.html' title='Cancel Your Credit Cards Before You Die'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2931773322492219130</id><published>2010-03-11T20:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:34:17.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Day</title><content type='html'>A woman came home to find her husband in the kitchen shaking frantically, almost in a dancing frenzy, with some kind of wire running from his waist towards the electric kettle. Intending to jolt him away from the deadly current, she whacked him with a handy plank of wood, breaking his arm in two places. Up to that moment, he had been happily listening to his iPod.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2931773322492219130?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2931773322492219130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/bad-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2931773322492219130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2931773322492219130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/bad-day.html' title='Bad Day'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3626791674657961547</id><published>2010-03-10T20:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:35:54.022-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things got ya down?</title><content type='html'>&gt; Things got ya down? Well then, consider these...In a hospital's Intensive Care Unit, patients always died in the same bed, on Sunday morning, at about 11:00 a.m., regardless of their medical condition. This puzzled the doctors and some even thought it had something to do with the supernatural. No one could solve the mystery as to why the deaths occurred around 11:00 A.M. Sunday, so a worldwide team of experts was assembled to investigate the cause of the incidents. The next Sunday morning, a few minutes before 11:00 A.M. all of the doctors and nurses nervously waited outside the ward to see for themselves what the terrible phenomenon was all about. Some were holding wooden crosses, prayer books, and other holy objects to ward off the evil spirits.. Just when the clock struck 11:00, Pookie Johnson, the part-time Sunday sweeper, entered the ward and unplugged the life support system so he could use the vacuum cleaner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3626791674657961547?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3626791674657961547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-got-ya-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3626791674657961547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3626791674657961547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-got-ya-down.html' title='Things got ya down?'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7456739107045400913</id><published>2010-02-20T23:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T23:31:00.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bull</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A man takes his wife to the cattle  market. They come up to a bull, and his sign says, “This bull mated 50  times last year.” The wife turns to her husband and says, “He mated 50  times in a year; you could learn from him.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They proceed to the next bull, and his  sign says, “This bull mated 65 times last year.” The wife turns to her  husband and says, “This one mated 65 times last year. That’s over five  times a month! You could learn from this one, also.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They proceed to the last bull, and his  sign says, “This bull mated 365 times last year.” The wife’s mouth drops  open, and she says, “WOW! He mated 365 times last year. That’s once a  day! You could really learn from this one.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The man turns to his wife and says,  “I’ll bet it wasn’t 365 times with the same cow.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7456739107045400913?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7456739107045400913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/bull.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7456739107045400913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7456739107045400913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/bull.html' title='The Bull'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8202322121582788572</id><published>2010-02-19T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T23:21:02.267-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I need it to poison my husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A nice, calm and respectable lady went  into the pharmacy, right up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his  eyes, and said, “I would like to buy some cyanide.”The pharmacist asked,  “Why in the world do you need cyanide?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The lady replied, “I need it to poison  my husband.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The pharmacists eyes got big and he  exclaimed, “Lord have mercy!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I can’t give you cyanide to kill your  husband! That’s against the law!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I’ll lose my license! They’ll throw both  of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You  CANNOT have any cyanide!”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The lady reached into her purse and  pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The pharmacist looked at the picture and  replied, “Well now. That’s different. You didn’t tell me you had a  prescription.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8202322121582788572?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8202322121582788572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-it-to-poison-my-husband.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8202322121582788572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8202322121582788572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-it-to-poison-my-husband.html' title='I need it to poison my husband'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4471347360262026361</id><published>2010-02-16T09:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T09:40:00.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Like My Wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;A completely inebriated man walked into a bar and, after staring for some time at the only woman seated at the bar, walked over to her, placed his hand up&lt;br /&gt;her skirt and began fondling her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She jumped up and slapped him silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He immediately apologized and explained, "I'm sorry. I thought you were my wife. You look exactly like her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why you drunken, worthless, insufferable son of a BITCH!" she screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Funny," he muttered, "you even sound exactly like her."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4471347360262026361?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4471347360262026361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-like-my-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4471347360262026361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4471347360262026361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-like-my-wife.html' title='Just Like My Wife'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8016189945935546676</id><published>2010-02-06T21:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:36:24.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're In Trouble...</title><content type='html'>The population of this country is 300 million.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;160 million are retired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That leaves 140 million to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 85 million in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leaves 55 million to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of this there are 35 million employed by the federal government.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving 15 million to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.8 million are in the armed forces preoccupied with killing Osama Bin-Laden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leaves 12.2 million to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take from that total the 10.8 million people who work for state and city Governments. And that leaves 1.4 million to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving 1,212,000 to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That leaves just two people to do the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there you are,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting on your ass,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At your computer, reading jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice. Real nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8016189945935546676?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8016189945935546676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/were-in-trouble.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8016189945935546676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8016189945935546676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/were-in-trouble.html' title='We&apos;re In Trouble...'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8043284710990408730</id><published>2010-02-05T11:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:24:00.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tacocat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/S2WvGbs58TI/AAAAAAAAAI8/IafcrZFH13U/s1600-h/funny-pictures-taco-cat-is-a-palindrome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/S2WvGbs58TI/AAAAAAAAAI8/IafcrZFH13U/s320/funny-pictures-taco-cat-is-a-palindrome.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432941050542551346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/S2WvGbs58TI/AAAAAAAAAI8/IafcrZFH13U/s1600-h/funny-pictures-taco-cat-is-a-palindrome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/S2WvGbs58TI/AAAAAAAAAI8/IafcrZFH13U/s320/funny-pictures-taco-cat-is-a-palindrome.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432941050542551346" 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/2825291655157682804-8043284710990408730?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8043284710990408730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/tacocat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8043284710990408730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8043284710990408730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/tacocat.html' title='tacocat'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/S2WvGbs58TI/AAAAAAAAAI8/IafcrZFH13U/s72-c/funny-pictures-taco-cat-is-a-palindrome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-52327884147829047</id><published>2010-02-04T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T11:17:00.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to join this damn church!</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt; A grumpy old man  walks into a local First Baptist Church and says to the secretary, “I  wanna join this damn church.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;The astonished woman replies,  “I beg your pardon, sir. I must have misunderstood you. What did you  say?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;“Listen up, dammit. I said I  want to join this damn church!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;“I’m very sorry sir, but that  kind of language is not tolerated in this church.” The secretary leaves  her desk and goes into the pastor’s study to inform him of her  situation. The pastor agrees that the secretary does not have to listen  to that foul language. They both return to her office and the pastor  asks, “Sir, what seems to be the problem here?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;“There &lt;em&gt;IS &lt;/em&gt;no damn  problem!,” the man says. “Looky here, I just won $200 million bucks in  the damn lottery and I want to join this damn church to get rid of some  of this damn money.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;“I see,” said the pastor. “And  is this bitch giving you a hard time?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-52327884147829047?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/52327884147829047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-want-to-join-this-damn-church.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/52327884147829047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/52327884147829047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-want-to-join-this-damn-church.html' title='I want to join this damn church!'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3066541612713161682</id><published>2010-02-02T11:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T11:13:00.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christianity</title><content type='html'>The belief that some cosmic Jewish Zombi can make you life forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him that you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3066541612713161682?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3066541612713161682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/christianity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3066541612713161682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3066541612713161682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/christianity.html' title='Christianity'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1150617501309568093</id><published>2010-02-01T11:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T11:09:00.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>nerds vs. geeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A 'nerd' is someone with an extremely intense interest or fascination  in an academic field of study (often an obscure field). Being a nerd is  typically associated with intellect, as they often enjoy specialising  in complicated fields of study. Nerds may also have difficulties  socialising with others, as many tend towards being introverted. This  may cover a broad range of interests, from movies to games (video and  table-top), to more practical skills such as computer science. Nerds  often have gained a strong and diverse skill set from their studies and  experiences, which may at times, be unorthodox or impractical.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;A 'geek' is someone with an interest or lifestyle having to do with  very niche activities. It is not uncommon for a geek to be capable of  reciting large amounts of knowledge that are unintuitive, intriguing and  at times, just plain disturbing. Geeks can vary in their interests,  from fun and sometimes even frivolous things, to heavily technological  interests. Geeks often have gained vast amounts of knowledge and are  capable of reciting them in a very succinct (or long-winded) manner. The  knowledge could be anywhere from the mundane to 'living encyclopedia'  status.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1150617501309568093?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1150617501309568093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/nerds-vs-geeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1150617501309568093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1150617501309568093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/02/nerds-vs-geeks.html' title='nerds vs. geeks'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6863860488816815505</id><published>2010-01-31T13:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T13:41:00.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>home depot scam</title><content type='html'>A"heads up" for those men who may be regular Home Depot customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last month I became a victim of a clever scam while out  shopping. Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to be quite  traumatic. Don't be naive enough to think it couldn't happen to you or  your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how the scam works:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two seriously good-looking 20-21 year-old girls come over to your  car as you are packing your shopping into the trunk. They both start  wiping your windshield with a rag and Windex, with their breasts almost  falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say "No" and instead  ask you for a ride to another Home Depot. You agree and they get in the  backseat. On the way, they start undressing. Then one of them climbs  over into the front seat and starts crawling all over you, while the  other one steals your wallet. I had my wallet stolen November 4th,  9th,10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th, &amp;amp; 24th 29th. Also December  1st, 4th, twice on the 8th, 16th, 23rd, 26th, 30th, three times last  Saturday and very likely again this upcoming weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tell your friends to be careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Walmart has wallets on sale 2.99 each&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6863860488816815505?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6863860488816815505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/home-depot-scam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6863860488816815505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6863860488816815505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/home-depot-scam.html' title='home depot scam'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-37977000167366432</id><published>2010-01-30T20:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T20:39:26.451-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The truest definition of Globalization</title><content type='html'>Question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the truest definition of Globalization?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Princess Diana’s death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An english princess with an egyptian boyfriend crashes in a french tunnel, driving a german car with a dutch engine, driven by a belgian who was drunk on scottish whiskey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;followed closely by italian paparazzi on japanese motorcycles;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;treated by an american doctor, using brazilian medicines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is sent to you by an american, using Bill Gate’s technology and you are probably reading this on your computer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that uses taiwanese chips and a korean monitor, assembled by bangladeshi workers in a singapore plant; transported by indian lorry-drivers, hijacked by Indonesians, unloaded by sicilian longshoremen and trucked to you by mexican illegals…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That, my friend, is Globalization!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-37977000167366432?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/37977000167366432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/truest-definition-of-globalization.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/37977000167366432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/37977000167366432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/truest-definition-of-globalization.html' title='The truest definition of Globalization'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3063052792265915571</id><published>2010-01-27T19:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T19:42:28.981-05:00</updated><title type='text'>iPad</title><content type='html'>- iPad: You only need to plug it in once a month&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Wow - its the iPad. Wonder if it comes in 2 sizes (maxi and mini)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I guess it's Apple's "time of the month"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Apple iPad: for all your heavy flow days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Our little iPod has hit womanhood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- iPad? Didn't I have to run out and get some of those for my wife the other night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- And the professional version will be known as Max iPad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I hope the iPad has wings for extra nighttime protection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- How will people in Boston tell the difference between the iPad and iPod?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3063052792265915571?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3063052792265915571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/ipad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3063052792265915571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3063052792265915571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/ipad.html' title='iPad'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1686191957124458540</id><published>2010-01-09T22:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T22:48:34.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong Number?</title><content type='html'>"Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl's voice came over the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I speak to Ben, please?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live by myself, and my name definitely is not Ben. It was probably a wrong number. Of course, it was also a dull evening, even for Indiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, he's not in right now. Can I take a message?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know what time he'll be back?" she responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think he said he'd be home around 10:00."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence on the other end...a confused silence. I had a live one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this Steve?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name isn't Steve, either. This was definitely a wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, it is. Do you want to leave a message for Ben?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well...he said he would be home tonight and asked me to call him..." she said in a slightly irritated voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must have sounded a lot more like Steve than I had thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied, "Well, he went out with Karen about an hour ago, and said that he would be back at 10:00."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A shocked voice now: "Who's Karen?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The girl he went out with." (I've seen Fletch several times).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know that! I mean....who is she?" (She must have seen Fletch, too....Or is that Fletch Too? Whatever..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know her last name. Look, do you want me to leave a message for Ben?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes...please do. Tell him to call me when he gets home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was sounding pretty irate at this point, and I could hear her temper flaring. Now would be a good time to call an end to the charade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I sure will. Is this Jennifer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She exploded this time. "WHO'S JENNIFER?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently she wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well...he's going out with Jennifer at 10:00. I thought you were her. Sorry...it was an honest mistake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ben's the one that's made the mistake! Tell him that ALICE called him and that she's VERY UPSET and that I would LIKE HIM to CALL ME as SOON AS HE GETS HOME."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled and said, "Okay, I will...but Becky isn't going to like this..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"BECKY?!?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"*click*"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1686191957124458540?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1686191957124458540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/wrong-number.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1686191957124458540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1686191957124458540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/wrong-number.html' title='Wrong Number?'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2007026732106629521</id><published>2010-01-02T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:19:15.037-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Recent Order</title><content type='html'>EAR MADAM:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;THANK YOU FOR YOUR RECENT ORDER FROM OUR SEX TOYS SHOP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;YOU ASKED FOR THE LARGE RED VIBRATOR AS FEATURED ON OUR WALL DISPLAY.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;PLEASE SELECT ANOTHER ITEM BECAUSE THAT IS OUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2007026732106629521?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2007026732106629521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/your-recent-order.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2007026732106629521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2007026732106629521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2010/01/your-recent-order.html' title='Your Recent Order'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5085981890761448917</id><published>2009-12-27T11:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T11:33:00.154-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pay Raise</title><content type='html'>A maid asked for a pay increase. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife was very upset about this and asked: "Now Maria, why do you  want a pay increase?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "Well Senora, there are three reasons why I want an  increase. The first is that I iron better than you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife: "Who said you iron better than me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "Your husband said so." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife: "Oh." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "The second reason is that I am a better cook than you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife: "Nonsense, who said you were a better cook than me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "Your husband did." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife: "Oh." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "My third reason is that I am a better lover than you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife (really furious now): "Did my husband say that as well?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria: "No Senora, the gardener did." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHE GOT THE RAISE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5085981890761448917?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5085981890761448917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/pay-raise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5085981890761448917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5085981890761448917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/pay-raise.html' title='Pay Raise'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8482339164907006279</id><published>2009-12-26T11:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T11:29:28.877-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The female dormitory</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;On the first day of college, the Dean addressed the students,  pointing out some of the rules:&lt;br /&gt;“The female dormitory will be out-of-bounds for all male students, and  the male dormitory to the female students.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Anybody caught breaking this rule will be fined $20 the first time.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;He continued, “Anybody caught breaking this rule the second time will  be fined $60. Being caught a third time will cost you a fine of $180.  Are there any questions?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;At this point, a male student in the crowd inquired: “How much for a  season pass?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8482339164907006279?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8482339164907006279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/female-dormitory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8482339164907006279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8482339164907006279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/female-dormitory.html' title='The female dormitory'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4269026272357422768</id><published>2009-12-25T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T21:13:00.477-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Attainable New Year's Resolutions This year, I resolve to...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4em;"&gt;Attainable New Year's Resolutions This year, I resolve to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Gain weight. At least 30 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;- Stop exercising. Waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;- Read less. Makes you think.&lt;br /&gt;- Watch more TV. I've been missing some good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;- Procrastinate more. Starting tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;- Spend more time at work, surfing with the T1.&lt;br /&gt;- Take a vacation to someplace important: like, to see the largest ball of twine.&lt;br /&gt;- Not jump off a cliff just because everyone else did.&lt;br /&gt;- Stop bringing lunch from home: I should eat out more.&lt;br /&gt;- Not have eight children at once.&lt;br /&gt;- Get in a whole NEW rut!&lt;br /&gt;- Start being superstitious.&lt;br /&gt;- Personal goal: bring back disco.&lt;br /&gt;- Not bet against the Minnesota Vikings.&lt;br /&gt;- Buy an '83 Eldorado and invest in a really loud stereo system.&lt;br /&gt;- Get the windows tinted. Buy some fur for the dash.&lt;br /&gt;- Speak in a monotone voice and only use monosyllabicwords.&lt;br /&gt;- Only wear jeans that are 2 sizes too small and use a chain or rope for a belt.&lt;br /&gt;- Spend my summer vacation in Cyberspace.&lt;br /&gt;- Not eat cloned meat.&lt;br /&gt;- Create loose ends.&lt;br /&gt;- Get more toys.&lt;br /&gt;- Get further in debt.&lt;br /&gt;- Not believe politicians.&lt;br /&gt;- Not drive a motorized vehicle across thin ice.&lt;br /&gt;- Avoid transmission of inter-species diseases.&lt;br /&gt;- Avoid airplanes that spontaneously drop 1000 feet.&lt;br /&gt;- Stay off the International Space Station.&lt;br /&gt;- Not swim with pirhanas or sharks.&lt;br /&gt;- Associate with even worse business clients.&lt;br /&gt;- Spread out priorities beyond my ability to keep track of them.&lt;br /&gt;- Wait around for opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;- Focus on the faults of others.&lt;br /&gt;- Mope about my faults.&lt;br /&gt;- Never make New Year's resolutions again.&lt;br /&gt;&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/2825291655157682804-4269026272357422768?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4269026272357422768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/attainable-new-years-resolutions-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4269026272357422768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4269026272357422768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/attainable-new-years-resolutions-this.html' title='Attainable New Year&apos;s Resolutions This year, I resolve to...'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6626117094402694671</id><published>2009-12-23T19:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T19:48:29.931-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DUI</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a bar in&lt;br /&gt;Austin, Texas after last call the officer noticed a man leaving the&lt;br /&gt;bar so apparently intoxicated that he could barely walk.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the&lt;br /&gt;officer quietly observing.  After what seemed an eternity in which he&lt;br /&gt;tried his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his&lt;br /&gt;car and fall into it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;He sat there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the&lt;br /&gt;bar and drove off.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off–it was a&lt;br /&gt;fine, dry summer night–, flicked the blinkers on and off a couple of&lt;br /&gt;times, honked the horn and then switched on the lights.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little and then&lt;br /&gt;remained still for a few more minutes as some more of the other&lt;br /&gt;patrons’ vehicles left.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;At last, when his was the only car left in the parking lot, he pulled&lt;br /&gt;out and drove slowly down the road.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The police officer, having waited patiently all this time, now  started&lt;br /&gt;up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man&lt;br /&gt;over and administered a Breathalyzer test.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To his amazement, the Breathalyzer indicated no evidence that the man&lt;br /&gt;had consumed any alcohol at all!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dumbfounded, the officer said, I’ll have to ask you to accompany me  to&lt;br /&gt;the police station.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This Breathalyzer equipment must be broken.’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;‘I doubt it,’ said the truly proud Redneck.  ‘Tonight I’m the&lt;br /&gt;designated decoy.’&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6626117094402694671?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6626117094402694671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/dui.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6626117094402694671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6626117094402694671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/dui.html' title='DUI'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3035903079957078668</id><published>2009-12-22T00:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T00:14:00.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Australian Tourism</title><content type='html'>These were posted on an Australian Tourism Website and the answers are the actual responses by the website officials, who obviously have a great  sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Does it ever get windy in Australia ? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? ( UK ).&lt;br /&gt;A:  We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A:  Depends how much you’ve been drinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  I want to walk from Perth to Sydney – can I follow the railroad tracks? ( Sweden)&lt;br /&gt;A:  Sure, it’s only three thousand miles, take lots of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia ? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane , Cairns, Townsville and Hervey Bay ? ( UK)&lt;br /&gt;A:  What did your last slave die of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia ? ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A:  A-Fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe . Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not … Oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Which direction is North in Australia ? ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A:  Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we’ll send the rest of the directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Can I bring cutlery into Australia ? ( UK )&lt;br /&gt;A:  Why? Just use your fingers like we do…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Can you send me the Vienna Boys’ Choir schedule? ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is Oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in &gt; Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Can I wear high heels in Australia ? ( UK )&lt;br /&gt;A:  You are a British politician, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? ( Germany )&lt;br /&gt;A:  No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers.  Milk is illegal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can Dispense rattlesnake serum. ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A:  Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and &gt; make good pets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  I have a question about a famous animal in Australia , but I forget its name. It’s a kind of bear and lives in trees. ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A:  It’s called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of Gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them.&lt;br /&gt;You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia ? ( USA)&lt;br /&gt;A:  Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia ? ( France )&lt;br /&gt;A:  Only at Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? ( USA )&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, but you’ll have to learn it first&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3035903079957078668?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3035903079957078668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/australian-tourism.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3035903079957078668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3035903079957078668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/australian-tourism.html' title='Australian Tourism'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1395054219400937077</id><published>2009-12-20T15:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T15:12:00.349-05:00</updated><title type='text'>two guys looking for their wives</title><content type='html'>Two guys, one old and one young, are pushing their carts around Home Depot when they collide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old guy says to the young guy, "Sorry about that. I'm looking for my wife, and I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young guy says, "That's OK. It's a coincidence. I'm looking for my wife, too. I can't find her and I'm getting a little desperate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old guy says, "Well, maybe we can help each other. What does your wife look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young guy says, "Well, she's a redhead with blue eyes, long legs, big boobs, and she's wearing a blue midriff tank-top and white shorts. What does your wife look like?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old guy says, "Doesn't matter --- let's look for yours."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1395054219400937077?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1395054219400937077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/two-guys-looking-for-their-wives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1395054219400937077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1395054219400937077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/two-guys-looking-for-their-wives.html' title='two guys looking for their wives'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5982319610416185247</id><published>2009-12-19T14:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T14:57:20.015-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiger Woods Holiday Poem</title><content type='html'>Twas the night of Thanksgiving and out of the house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiger Woods came a flyin', chased by his spouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wielded a nine iron and wasn't too merry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause a bimbo's phone number was in his Blackberry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'd been cheatin' on Elin, and the story progressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman after woman stepped up and confessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'd been cheatin' with Holly, and Jaimee, and Cori,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Joselyn, and Kalika. The world had the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the top of the Tour to the basement of blues,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiger's sad sordid tale was all over the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With hostesses, waitresses, he had lots of sex,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When not in their pants, he was sendin' them texts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all his cryin' and beggin' and pleadin',&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiger's wife went investin' -- a new home in Sweden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I heard her exclaim from her white Escalade,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you're gettin' laid then I'm gettin' paid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's not pouting, in fact, she is of jolly good cheer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her prenup made Christmas come early this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5982319610416185247?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5982319610416185247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/tiger-woods-holiday-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5982319610416185247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5982319610416185247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/tiger-woods-holiday-poem.html' title='Tiger Woods Holiday Poem'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-3181164935463000880</id><published>2009-12-07T16:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T16:27:21.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Constipated Elephant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Zookeeper Friedrich Riesfeldt fed his constipated elephant 22 doses of animal laxative and more than a bushel of berries, figs and prunes before the plugged-up pachyderm finally got relief.&lt;br /&gt;Investigators say ill-fated Friedrich, 46, was attempting to give the ailing elephant an olive oil enema when the relieved beast unloaded.&lt;br /&gt;The sheer force of the elephant's unexpected defecation knocked Mr. Riesfeldt to the ground where he struck his head on a rock as the elephant continued to evacuate 200 pounds of dung on top of him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-3181164935463000880?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3181164935463000880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/constipated-elephant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3181164935463000880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/3181164935463000880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/constipated-elephant.html' title='Constipated Elephant'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-574576793678707626</id><published>2009-12-07T00:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T00:22:00.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed Trap</title><content type='html'>Wexford Garda Traffic cops had a perfect spot to watch for speeders, but weren’t getting many. Then they discovered the problem - a 12 year old boy was standing up the road with a hand-painted sign, which read ‘SPEED TRAP AHEAD’. The cops also found that the little guy had an accomplice who was further down the road with a sign reading ‘TIPS’ and a bucket full of money. Very enterprising little fellows&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-574576793678707626?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/574576793678707626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/speed-trap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/574576793678707626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/574576793678707626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/speed-trap.html' title='Speed Trap'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7289259272124736920</id><published>2009-12-05T23:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T23:45:22.745-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Women Like</title><content type='html'>A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example: If she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating, or menopausal, she tends to prefer a man with scissors lodged in his temple and a bat jammed up his ass while he is on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Further studies in this area have been canceled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7289259272124736920?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7289259272124736920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-women-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7289259272124736920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7289259272124736920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-women-like.html' title='What Women Like'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4471929671949781420</id><published>2009-12-04T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T17:03:13.167-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Grip Sheet"</title><content type='html'>After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems; document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS ' pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers. By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.&lt;br /&gt;S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.&lt;br /&gt;&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;&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;&lt;br /&gt;P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.&lt;br /&gt;S: Evidence removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: DME volume unbelievably loud.&lt;br /&gt;S: DME volume set to more believable level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.&lt;br /&gt;S: That's what friction locks are for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.&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;&lt;br /&gt;P: Aircraft handles funny. (I love this one!)&lt;br /&gt;S: Aircraft warned to: straighten up, fly right, and be serious.&lt;br /&gt;&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;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4471929671949781420?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4471929671949781420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/grip-sheet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4471929671949781420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4471929671949781420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/12/grip-sheet.html' title='&quot;Grip Sheet&quot;'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4194483821670426656</id><published>2009-11-29T04:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T04:38:01.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No English</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A     bus stops and 2 Italian men get on. They sit down and&lt;br /&gt;Engage     in an animated conversation.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The lady sitting next to them ignores them at first, but&lt;br /&gt;Her     attention is galvanized when she hears one of them say the following:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;‘Emma come first.&lt;br /&gt;Den I come.&lt;br /&gt;Den two asses come together.&lt;br /&gt;I come once-a-more! .&lt;br /&gt;Two asses, they come together again.&lt;br /&gt;I come again and pee twice.&lt;br /&gt;Then I come one lasta time.’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The lady can’t take this any more,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;‘You foul-mouthed sex obsessed pig,’ she retorted&lt;br /&gt;Indignantly.     ‘In this country. We don’t speak aloud in Public places&lt;br /&gt;About     our sex lives.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;‘Hey, coola down lady,’ said the man. ‘Who talkin’&lt;br /&gt;Abouta sex?  I’m a justa tellin’ my frienda how to spell ‘&lt;br /&gt;Mississippi      ‘.’&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4194483821670426656?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4194483821670426656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-english.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4194483821670426656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4194483821670426656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-english.html' title='No English'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1159541470274870081</id><published>2009-11-26T20:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T20:16:39.197-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Divorce</title><content type='html'>A man in Phoenix calls his son in New York the day before Thanksgiving and says,"I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams. We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the father says. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they're getting divorced," she shouts, "I'll take care of this,"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at her father, "You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" and hangs up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "they're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1159541470274870081?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1159541470274870081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-divorce.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1159541470274870081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1159541470274870081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-divorce.html' title='Thanksgiving Divorce'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8177194561489125396</id><published>2009-11-15T21:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T21:15:27.504-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IRS Audit</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;... "Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;"I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it," says Ralph. "How about a demonstration?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;The auditor thinks for a moment and said, "Okay. Go ahead."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ralph says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;The auditor thinks a moment and says, "No way! It's a bet."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ralph removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops. Ralph says, "Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;The auditor can tell Ralph isn't blind, so he takes the bet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ralph removes his dentures and bites his good eye. The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Ralph's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;"Want to go double or nothing?" Ralph asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this guy can manage that stunt, so he agrees again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ralph stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, and urinates all over the desk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Ralph's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;"Are you okay?" the auditor asks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;"Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Ralph told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8177194561489125396?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8177194561489125396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/irs-audit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8177194561489125396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8177194561489125396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/irs-audit.html' title='IRS Audit'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2856634010292612889</id><published>2009-11-14T09:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T09:49:21.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Is Norma?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="item-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;A sweet grandmother telephoned St. Joseph ’s Hospital. She timidly asked, “Is it possible to speak to someone who can tell me how a patient is doing?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The operator said,  ”I’ll be glad to help, dear. What’s the name and room number of the patient?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The grandmother in her weak, tremulous voice said, “Norma Findlay, Room 302.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The operator replied, “Let me put you on hold while I check with the nurse’s station for that room.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;After a few minutes, the operator returned to the phone and said, “I have good news. Her nurse just told me that Norma is doing well. Her blood pressure is fine; her blood work just came back normal and her physician, Dr. Cohen, has scheduled her to be discharged tomorrow.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The grandmother said, ”Thank you. That’s wonderful. I was so worried. God bless you for the good news.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The operator replied, ”You’re more than welcome. Is Norma your daughter?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The grandmother said, ”No, I’m Norma Findlay in Room 302. No one tells me shit.”&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/2825291655157682804-2856634010292612889?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2856634010292612889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-is-norma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2856634010292612889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2856634010292612889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-is-norma.html' title='How Is Norma?'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5545285577352646281</id><published>2009-11-11T11:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T11:28:20.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beauty of a Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;div id="entrygoogle1"&gt;       &lt;a name="more"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--       google_ad_client = "pub-3873347697860878";       google_ad_slot = "4315036318";       google_ad_width = 300;       google_ad_height = 250;       //--&gt;       &lt;/script&gt;       &lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"&gt;       &lt;/script&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;     &lt;p&gt;If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;A woman multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Why is this important for every man to know?&lt;/p&gt;  Because if you give her any crap, you need be ready to receive a &lt;i&gt;ton&lt;/i&gt; of shit in return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5545285577352646281?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5545285577352646281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/beauty-of-woman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5545285577352646281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5545285577352646281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/beauty-of-woman.html' title='The Beauty of a Woman'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-136796858939002929</id><published>2009-11-02T22:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T22:35:42.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Affair with Secretary</title><content type='html'>A married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day they went to her place and made love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep and woke up at 8 PM. The man hurriedly dressed and told his lover to take his shoes outside and rub them in the grass and dirt. He put on his shoes and drove home. "Where have you been?" his wife demanded. "I can't lie to you," he replied, "I'm having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon." "You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-136796858939002929?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/136796858939002929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/affair-with-secretary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/136796858939002929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/136796858939002929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/affair-with-secretary.html' title='Affair with Secretary'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6136088060125209899</id><published>2009-11-01T17:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T17:45:26.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Day</title><content type='html'>A guy walks into a bar and orders 6 shooters. The bartender says, "Looks like you are having a bad day."&lt;br /&gt;The guy says, "Am I ever! To start, I woke up late for work. On my way to work I got in an accident. When I got to work I was four hours late, so the boss fired me. Then to top everything off I came home to my wife screwing my best friend."&lt;br /&gt;The bartender says, "What did you say to your wife?"&lt;br /&gt;The guy says, "I told her to get out, and I never want to see her again."&lt;br /&gt;The bartender says, "What did you say to your best friend?"&lt;br /&gt;The guy says, "I said BAD DOG!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6136088060125209899?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6136088060125209899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/bad-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6136088060125209899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6136088060125209899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/11/bad-day.html' title='Bad Day'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8656028177871325239</id><published>2009-10-31T17:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T17:18:00.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Punctuation</title><content type='html'>A kindergarten class had a homework assignment to find out about something exciting and relate it to the class the next day. When the time came to present what they'd found, the first little boy walked up to the front of the class made a small white dot on the blackboard and sat back down. Puzzled, the teacher asked him just what it was.&lt;br /&gt;"It's a period,'' said the little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I can see that,'' she said, ''but what is so exciting about a period?''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Damned if I know,'' said the little boy, ''but this morning my sister was missing one, Daddy had a heart attack, Mommy fainted, and the man next door shot himself."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8656028177871325239?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8656028177871325239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/punctuation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8656028177871325239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8656028177871325239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/punctuation.html' title='Punctuation'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5241586205243986654</id><published>2009-10-30T17:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T17:16:48.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogs &amp; Wives</title><content type='html'>Two guys are driving along in a car when they see two dogs mating in someone's yard. The driver says: "That is great. Me and my wife do that every night."&lt;br /&gt;The passenger replies, "My wife is conservative, she likes the old fashioned way. But if you tell me how you get your wife to do this, I would like to try it."&lt;br /&gt;The driver says: "Give your wife two drinks and she will be all set."&lt;br /&gt;The next morning they're cruising along and the driver asks "How was it?"&lt;br /&gt;The passenger answer: "It was great, but it took my wife ten drinks."&lt;br /&gt;The driver looks at him funny and says "TEN DRINKS?"&lt;br /&gt;The passenger says "Yes. After two she was more than willing to make love that way, but it took her eight more to get her out on the front lawn!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5241586205243986654?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5241586205243986654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/dogs-wives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5241586205243986654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5241586205243986654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/dogs-wives.html' title='Dogs &amp; Wives'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-4008840078996458533</id><published>2009-10-26T09:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T09:34:17.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HOW TO INSTALL A HOME SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE SOUTH</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1. Go to a second-hand store and buy a pair of men's used size 14-16 work boots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;2. Place them on your front porch, along with a copy of Guns &amp;amp; Ammo magazine and your NRA magazines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  3. Put a few giant dog dishes next to the boots and magazine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;4. Leave a note on your door that reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Hey Bubba, Big Jim, Duke and Slim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I went for more ammunition. Back in an hour. Don't mess with the&lt;br /&gt;pit bulls - they attacked the mailman this morning and messed him up&lt;br /&gt;real bad. I don't think Killer took part in it but it was hard to tell&lt;br /&gt;from all the blood. Anyway, I locked all four of 'em in the house.&lt;br /&gt;Better wait outside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cooter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-4008840078996458533?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4008840078996458533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-to-install-home-security-system-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4008840078996458533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/4008840078996458533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-to-install-home-security-system-in.html' title='HOW TO INSTALL A HOME SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE SOUTH'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5151716232628347534</id><published>2009-10-25T17:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T17:51:00.465-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Ten Reasons Why Trick-or-Treating is Better Than Sex</title><content type='html'>10. You are guaranteed to get at least a little something in the sack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. If you get tired, wait ten minutes and go back at it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The stranger you look, the easier it is to get some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You don't have to compliment the person who gave it to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Person you are with doesn't fantasize you're someone else, you already are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If you get a stomach ache, it won't last nine months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If you wear leather and chains, no one thinks you're kinky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Doesn't matter if kids hear you moaning and groaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Less guilt the next morning from over-indulging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If you don't get what you want at one place, you can always go next door to get more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5151716232628347534?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5151716232628347534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-ten-reasons-why-trick-or-treating.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5151716232628347534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5151716232628347534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-ten-reasons-why-trick-or-treating.html' title='Top Ten Reasons Why Trick-or-Treating is Better Than Sex'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1588473462417089482</id><published>2009-10-24T12:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T12:29:00.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lie Detector</title><content type='html'>John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmick. His wife Marsha had long ago given up trying to get him to change. One day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector. It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 11 year old son, returned home from school. Tommy was over 2 hours late. "Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?" asked John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project," said Tommy. The robot then walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out of his chair. "Son," said John, "this robot is a lie detector. Now tell us where you really were after school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie." said Tommy. "What did you watch?" asked Marsha. "The Ten Commandments," answered Tommy. The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his chair once more. With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, "I am sorry I lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am ashamed of you son," said John. "When I was your age, I never lied to my parents."&lt;br /&gt;The robot then walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly knocked him out of his chair. Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, "Boy, did you ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!" With that the robot immediately walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1588473462417089482?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1588473462417089482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/lie-detector.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1588473462417089482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1588473462417089482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/lie-detector.html' title='The Lie Detector'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5386623110628418840</id><published>2009-10-22T22:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T22:58:00.338-04:00</updated><title type='text'>White Hair</title><content type='html'>One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do&lt;br /&gt;the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her&lt;br /&gt;mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast&lt;br /&gt;on her brunette head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, "Why are some&lt;br /&gt;of your hairs white, Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mother replied, "Well, every time that you do something wrong&lt;br /&gt;and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and&lt;br /&gt;then said, "Momma, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5386623110628418840?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5386623110628418840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/white-hair.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5386623110628418840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5386623110628418840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/white-hair.html' title='White Hair'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1928169668045695931</id><published>2009-10-21T22:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T22:57:00.659-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 things only women understand</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"&gt;10) Cats' facial expressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) The need for the same style of shoes in different colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Why bean sprouts aren't just weeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) “Fat” clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Taking a car trip without trying to beat your best time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) The difference between beige, off-white and eggshell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Cutting your bangs to make them grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Eyelash curlers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The inaccuracy of every bathroom scale ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Other women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-1928169668045695931?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1928169668045695931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-10-things-only-women-understand.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1928169668045695931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1928169668045695931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-10-things-only-women-understand.html' title='Top 10 things only women understand'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-2085234057387906148</id><published>2009-10-20T22:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T22:55:30.957-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tiger</title><content type='html'>A couple was on their honeymoon, lying in bed, about ready to consummate their marriage, when the new bride says to the husband, "I have a confession to make, I'm not a virgin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replies, "That's no big thing in this day and age."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife continues, "Yeah, I've been with one guy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah? Who was the guy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tiger Woods."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tiger Woods, the golfer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, he's rich, famous and handsome. I can see why you went to bed with him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband and wife then make passionate love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they are done, the husband gets up and walks to the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing?" asks the wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband says, "I'm hungry, I was going to call room service and get something to eat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tiger wouldn't do that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He'd come back to bed and do it a second time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband puts down the phone and goes back to bed to make love a second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they finish, he gets up and goes over to the phone. "Now what are you doing?" she asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband says, "I'm still hungry so I was going to get room service to get something to eat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tiger wouldn't do that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He'd come back to bed and do it again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy slams down the phone, goes back to bed, and makes love one more time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they finish he's tired and beat. He drags himself over to the phone and starts to dial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife asks, "Are you calling room service?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No! I'm calling Tiger Woods, to find out what the par is for this damn hole."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-2085234057387906148?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2085234057387906148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/tiger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2085234057387906148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/2085234057387906148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/tiger.html' title='The Tiger'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-9208803877813963239</id><published>2009-10-16T19:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T19:04:27.408-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Change for $100</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="storycontent"&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(A man comes to my register with a mint chocolate candy bar.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Anything else?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “Can you break a $100 bill?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Actually, I can’t. We just opened and I haven’t gone to the bank today.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “Oh, no! Do you know anywhere I can get change? I need this candy right away!”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(At this point I notice his panicked look. Coupled with the fact that he’s buying the most unappetizing candy in the store, I jump to a conclusion.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Sir, these aren’t for you, are they?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “No.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Did your pregnant wife send you out at 8 in the morning to buy this candy?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “Yes.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “For the love of God, man! Get these home to her before you’re in even more trouble! You can come back and pay me later!”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(The customer bolts out the door. He later came back, visibly calmer, and paid.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-9208803877813963239?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9208803877813963239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/change-for-100.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9208803877813963239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9208803877813963239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/change-for-100.html' title='Change for $100'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-9012991974579071371</id><published>2009-10-12T23:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T23:57:00.411-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Cannibals</title><content type='html'>Two cannibals, a father and son, were elected by the tribe to go out and get something to eat. They walked deep into the jungle and waited by a path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before long, along came this little old man. The son said, "Ooh dad, there's one." "No," said the father. "There's not enough meat on that one to even feed the dogs. We'll just wait."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, a little while later, along came this really fat man. The son said, "Hey dad, he's plenty big enough." "No," the father said. "We'd all die of a heart attack from the fat in that one. We'll just wait."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About an hour later, here comes this absolutely gorgeous woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The son said, "Now there's nothing wrong with that one dad. Let's eat her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the father. "We'll not eat her either."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not?" asked the son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because, we're going to take her back alive and eat your mother."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-9012991974579071371?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9012991974579071371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/two-cannibals.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9012991974579071371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/9012991974579071371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/two-cannibals.html' title='Two Cannibals'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7209745397676230457</id><published>2009-10-11T07:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T07:08:00.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Permission To Golf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="item-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four married guys go golfing. During the 4th hole the following conversation took place: &lt;p&gt;First Guy:&lt;br /&gt;‘You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out golfing this weekend.. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every room in the house next weekend.’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Second Guy:&lt;br /&gt;‘That’s nothing; I had to promise my wife that I will build her a new deck for the pool.’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Third Guy:&lt;br /&gt;‘Man, you both have it easy! I had to promise my wife that I will remodel the kitchen for her.’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;They continue to play the hole when they realized that the fourth guy has Not said a word.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So they ask him, ‘You haven’t said anything about what you had to do to be able to come golfing this weekend. What’s the deal?’&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Fourth guy:&lt;br /&gt;‘I just set my alarm for 5:30am. When it went off, I gave the wife a slap on the ass and said: ‘Golf course or intercourse?’ She said: ‘Wear sun-block' &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/2825291655157682804-7209745397676230457?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7209745397676230457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/permission-to-golf.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7209745397676230457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7209745397676230457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/permission-to-golf.html' title='Permission To Golf'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-1705512270765706211</id><published>2009-10-10T07:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T07:04:01.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Ring</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="item-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt; A man went to the hospital in Cooktown , Queensland to have his wedding ring cut off from his penis.&lt;br /&gt;According to the nurse attending the operation, the patient’s  girlfriend found the ring in his pants pocket.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;She didn’t know he was married and she was so mad she used petroleum jelly to slip the ring on his penis while he was asleep.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I don’t know what’s worse:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1) Having your girl friend find out you’re married.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2) Explaining to your wife how your wedding ring got on your penis.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; OR…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3) Finding out your penis fits through your wedding ring.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/2825291655157682804-1705512270765706211?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1705512270765706211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/wedding-ring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1705512270765706211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/1705512270765706211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/wedding-ring.html' title='Wedding Ring'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8567836289563657066</id><published>2009-10-04T17:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T17:20:12.851-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Actual Ad In Local Paper</title><content type='html'>This was in this weeks local penny saver...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free: Kittens Vicious toe biters, ugly leg climbers, fur balls with whiskers, one paw away from circus act. I'll pay you $1.00 each!&lt;br /&gt;Hermon area (315) XXX-XXXX.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-8567836289563657066?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8567836289563657066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/actual-ad-in-local-paper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8567836289563657066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8567836289563657066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/actual-ad-in-local-paper.html' title='Actual Ad In Local Paper'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5849903927457534256</id><published>2009-10-02T01:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T01:42:00.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Bad Names</title><content type='html'>Why these parents thought it was a good idea, I’ll never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   1. Rusty Pipes (Airway Heights, WA) – Rusty always felt his parents pressured him to take over the family plumbing business a little too early in life.&lt;br /&gt;   2. Mercedes Benz (Cypress, TX) – Who knew that the famous Janis Joplin song was actually about human trafficking?&lt;br /&gt;   3. Phil McCracken (Weed, CA) – How many wedgies a day do you think poor Phil got at school? 10? 20? Let’s just pray he never goes to jail.&lt;br /&gt;   4. Dusty Rhodes (Ada, OK) – In Oklahoma there are plenty of dusty roads but only one of ‘em is a person.&lt;br /&gt;   5. Anita Morehead (Garland, TX) – This should be considered child abuse. I’m not kidding.&lt;br /&gt;   6. Pierce E Paine (Columbia, MD) – The best thing Pierce can do is become a doctor or go by Mr.&lt;br /&gt;   7. Mary Christmas (Americus, GA) – There are actually quite a few Mary Christmas’s so all you parents who think you’re being funny &amp;amp; clever… you’re not. It’s been done. A LOT.&lt;br /&gt;   8. Dear Beloved (Placida, FL) – How badly do you hope their middle mane is Lee?&lt;br /&gt;   9. Candy Cain (Chicago, IL) – Do you suppose her parents were surprised when their precious little girl grew up to become a stripper?&lt;br /&gt;  10. Mary Juana (Ligonier, PA) – Please Mary, just one last dance? I’d almost be willing to pay for Mary to move next door to Phil from #3, or at least in the same town…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5849903927457534256?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5849903927457534256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/10-bad-names.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5849903927457534256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5849903927457534256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/10/10-bad-names.html' title='10 Bad Names'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-5971143027144168671</id><published>2009-10-01T01:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T01:35:30.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Nun At Hooters</title><content type='html'>A nun, badly needing to use the restroom, walked into a local Hooters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place was hopping with music and loud conversation and every once in a while ‘the lights would turn off.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each time the lights would go out, the place would erupt into cheers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when the revelers saw the nun, the room went dead silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She walked up to the bartender, and asked, ‘May I please use the restroom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender replied, ‘OK, but I should warn you that there is a statue of a naked man in there wearing only a fig leaf.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Well, in that case, I’ll just look the other way,’ said the nun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the bartender showed the nun to the back of the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, she came back out, and the whole place stopped just long enough to give the nun a loud round of applause. !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went to the bartender and said, ‘Sir, I don’t understand. Why did they applaud for me just because I went to the restroom?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Well, now they know you’re one of us,’ said the bartender, ‘Would you like a drink?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘No thank you, but, I still don’t understand,’ said the puzzled nun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘You see,’ laughed the bartender, ‘every time someone lifts the fig leaf on that statue, the lights go out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, how about that drink?’&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-5971143027144168671?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5971143027144168671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/nun-at-hooters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5971143027144168671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/5971143027144168671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/nun-at-hooters.html' title='A Nun At Hooters'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-8808135687657513575</id><published>2009-09-24T17:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T17:24:47.191-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That's How The Keyboard Crumbles</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="item-body"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer, over the phone:&lt;/b&gt; “Hi, could you check out my computer? I think something is wrong with the keyboard.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Okay, do you have any idea what it might be?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “No, I just know that it has to be the keyboard. Everything else seems fine.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Okay, I’ll be over later.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(I drive to the woman’s house. She lets me in and shows me her desk.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Well, first off, your space bar is upside-down.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “I…uh…wasn’t gonna tell you that. Didn’t know if it’d be important.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(I remove the upside-down space bar.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt;  “Your keyboard is full of crumbs. Have you been eating over it?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “Well, I wasn’t gonna tell you that either.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;(I grab a can of air and blow the crumbs out.)&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “That’s weird, they’re not coming out. It’s sticky inside. Did you recently spill soda into this?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “Oh, I wasn’t gonna tell you all of this. I thought you’d get mad and not come.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; “Listen, there’s really nothing I can do. I’m sorry, you’ll need a whole new keyboard.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer:&lt;/b&gt; “See! I told you you’d just up and leave if I told you!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/2825291655157682804-8808135687657513575?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8808135687657513575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/thats-how-keyboard-crumbles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8808135687657513575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/8808135687657513575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/thats-how-keyboard-crumbles.html' title='That&apos;s How The Keyboard Crumbles'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7008543065602693220</id><published>2009-09-18T21:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T21:49:50.289-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Insensitive Wife</title><content type='html'>Ralph returns from the doctor and tells his wife that the doctor has told him he has only 24 hours to live. Given this prognosis, Ralph asks his wife for sex. Naturally, she agrees, and they make love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About six hours later, the husband goes to his wife and says, "Honey,you know I now have only 18 hours to live. Could we please do it one more time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the wife agrees and they do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, as the man gets into bed, he looks at his watch and realizes he now has only 8 hours left. He touches his wife's shoulder and asks, "Honey,please .. just one more time before I die ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "Of course, dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they make love for the third time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this session, the wife rolls over falls asleep. Ralph, however,worried about his impending death, tosses turns until he's down to 4 more hours. He taps his wife, who rouses. "Honey, I have only 4 more hours. Do you think we could.....?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point the wife sits up and says, "Listen Ralph, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I have to get up in the morning ...you don't.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7008543065602693220?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7008543065602693220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/insensitive-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7008543065602693220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7008543065602693220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/insensitive-wife.html' title='Insensitive Wife'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6413499575039706465</id><published>2009-09-17T13:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T13:48:00.092-04:00</updated><title type='text'>GEOGRAPHY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="KonaBody"&gt;                   &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE GEOGRAPHY OF A WOMAN&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Between 18 and 22, a woman is like Africa , half discovered, half wild, fertile and naturally beautiful!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 23 and 30, a woman is like Europe , well developed and open to trade, especially for someone with cash.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 31 and 35, a woman is like Spain , very hot, relaxed and convinced of her own beauty.&lt;/p&gt;                    &lt;a name="more"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                        &lt;div class="adblock101"&gt; &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript" src="http://ads.pugetsoundsoftware.com/adx.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt; &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"&gt; &lt;!--    if (!document.phpAds_used) document.phpAds_used = ',';    phpAds_random = new String (Math.random()); phpAds_random = phpAds_random.substring(2,11);        document.write ("&lt;" + "script language='JavaScript' type='text/javascript' src='");    document.write ("http://ads.pugetsoundsoftware.com/adjs.php?n=" + phpAds_random + "&amp;amp;what=");    document.write ("adblock101,_entryid2111|adblock101,_pgrated|adblock101def");    document.write ("&amp;amp;exclude=" + document.phpAds_used);    if (document.referrer)       document.write ("&amp;amp;referer=" + escape(document.referrer));    document.write ("'&gt;&lt;" + "/script&gt;"); //--&gt; &lt;/script&gt;&lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript" src="http://ads.pugetsoundsoftware.com/adjs.php?n=145614982&amp;amp;what=adblock101,_entryid2111%7Cadblock101,_pgrated%7Cadblock101def&amp;amp;exclude=,&amp;amp;referer=http%3A//www.stumbleupon.com/refer.php%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.forwardedfunnies.com%252Fthe_geography_of_a_woman_002111.html"&gt;&lt;/script&gt; &lt;/div&gt;                                       &lt;p&gt;Between 36 and 40, a woman is like Greece , gently aging but still a warm and desirable place to visit.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Great Britain , with a glorious and all conquering past.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Israel , has been through war and doesn't make the same mistakes twice, takes care of business.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Canada , self-preserving, but open to meeting new people.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;After 70, she becomes Tibet , wildly beautiful, with a mysterious past and the wisdom of the ages...only those with an adventurous spirit and a thirst for spiritual knowledge visit there.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE GEOGRAPHY OF A MAN&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between 1 and 78, a man is like Iran , Ruled by Nuts.&lt;/p&gt;                  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6413499575039706465?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6413499575039706465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/geography.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6413499575039706465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6413499575039706465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/geography.html' title='GEOGRAPHY'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7341445989850326309</id><published>2009-09-15T11:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T11:30:00.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good, The Bad &amp; The Ugly</title><content type='html'>Good: Your wife is pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: She's having triplets.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: You had a vasectomy five years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: Your wife is not talking to you.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: She wants a divorce.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: She's a lawyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: Your son is finally maturing.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: He's involved with the woman next door.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: So are you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: Your son studies a lot in his room.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: You find several pornographic movies hidden there.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: You're in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: Your son understands fashion.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: He's a cross-dresser.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: He looks better than your wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: Your daughter got a new job.&lt;br /&gt;Bad: As a hooker.&lt;br /&gt;Ugly: Your co-workers are her best clients.&lt;br /&gt;Way Ugly: She makes more money than you do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7341445989850326309?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7341445989850326309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-bad-ugly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7341445989850326309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7341445989850326309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-bad-ugly.html' title='The Good, The Bad &amp; The Ugly'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-6543675363513698578</id><published>2009-09-13T11:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T11:18:00.827-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Company Policy</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote class="mainbody"&gt;         &lt;p&gt;Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage,            hang a banana on a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long,            a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana.            As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with            cold water. After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same            result; all the other monkeys are sprayed with cold water.          &lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p&gt;Pretty soon, when another monkey tries to climb the stairs, the other            monkeys will try to prevent it. Now, put away the cold water. Remove            one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one. The new monkey            sees the banana and wants to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror,            all of the other monkeys attack him. After another attempt and attack,            he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p&gt;Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with            a new one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous            newcomer takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace            a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth.            Every time the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked. Most            of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they are not permitted            to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating of            the newest monkey. &lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p&gt;After replacing all of the original monkeys, none of the remaining            monkeys have ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey            every again approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because            as far as they know that's the way it's always been done around here.            And that, my friends, is how a company policy begins.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-6543675363513698578?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6543675363513698578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/company-policy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6543675363513698578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/6543675363513698578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/company-policy.html' title='Company Policy'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2825291655157682804.post-7938047039210219050</id><published>2009-09-10T05:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T05:45:55.373-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lipstick In School</title><content type='html'>According to a news report, a certain school in Garden City, MI was recently faced with a unique problem. A number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the washroom.That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every night, the maintenance man would remove them and the next day the girls would put them back. Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. He called all the girls to the washroom and met them there with the maintenance man. He explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, he asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required. He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE MORAL OF THIS STORY..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are teachers, and then there are Educators.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2825291655157682804-7938047039210219050?l=someshortjokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7938047039210219050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/lipstick-in-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7938047039210219050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2825291655157682804/posts/default/7938047039210219050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://someshortjokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/lipstick-in-school.html' title='Lipstick In School'/><author><name>Rob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_VC3ci6TTdSU/SJPUolm5sEI/AAAAAAAAAFU/AyuBRIkwbmE/S220/rob2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
