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Text 2657, 204 rader
Skriven 2005-09-27 00:33:58 av Greg Sears (3:633/104)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: Book
================
 GS>    > Mum. He'd give me a $20 bill and tell me to take a hike!"
   >
   >      -=> George Pope wrote a message to Greg Sears <=-
   >
   >  GP> "...And, actually, the bike was $2,000!"
   >
   > The words were ""hike"" not "bike" CyberPope..........

     -=> George Pope replied in a message to Greg Sears <=-

 GP> Yes, and he got paid $20 per "hike" until he could afford a $2,000
   > "bike" -- you can do the math, I'm sure!

   G-day Mate,

   The joker-kid in the joke already had a bike, you see he wanted a car
   and that's the reason he was screwin with his mum's rich visitor! ;-)


> OBJokes: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

"Why are you so sad, Bill?"

"My wife said she wouldn't talk to me for 30 days."

"Why should that make you sad?"

"Today is her last day!"

--------------------------------------- then

Customer:  Waitress, why is my doughnut all smashed?
Waitress:  You said you wanted a cup of coffee and a doughnut,
           and step on it.

--------------------------------------- after

Last Words.

"You can make it easy...that train isn't coming fast."

"Gimmee a match.  I think my gas tank is empty."

"Wife, these biscuits are tough."

"Let's see if it's loaded."

"Step on her, boy, we're only going 75."

"Just watch me dive from that bridge."

"If you knew anything, you wouldn't be a traffic cop."

"Lemme have that bottle;  I'll try it."

"What?  Your mother is going to stay another month?"

"Say, who's boss of this joint, anyhow?"


> MOREObJokes: for Mr. <+]::-{(} ("Cyberpope")

  It is said that P. T. Barnum, the famed circus magnate,
hung a large sign over one of the exits of his museum which read, "This
way to the egress."  Many people in the crowds, eager to see what an
egress looked like, passed through the door and found themselves out on
the street.

--------------------------------------- then

  Supposedly this story took place in the late 80's when the
gentleman drove his car from Lombard, Illinois to visit his wife who was
visiting her family in Montana.  When he got there, he was told that his
wife was in the hospital and dying.   When he reached the room, he found
his dear helpmate gasping for breath.  Well, he used good Illinois
judgment, ran outside to where his car was parked, removed a tire, ran
with it up to his wife's room, pressed down on the valve and all that
good Illinois air flooded the room and went into his wife's lungs.  And,
do you know, that she revived and was able to leave the hospital the
next morning.  Of course, he had to add air from a second tire to heal
her that quickly.  Hmmmmmmm.

--------------------------------------- after

"What kind of work do you do?"
"I work for the Bureau of Internal Revenue."
"Doesn't everybody?"

--------------------------------------- because

  A businessman who was near death asked that his remains be
cremated and the ashes be mailed to the Internal Revenue Service with
the following note attached:  "Now You Have It All."

--------------------------------------- so

 My girlfriend always seemed to enjoy seeing how much she could
 get away with doing some form of bondage stuff in public. She
 does this partly because she finds it fun, mostly because she
 knows it drives me out of my tree. Usually, I's able to fast-
 talk my way out of potentially embarrassing situations with
 Mundanes, but yesterday she very nearly got me fired.

 Yesterday afternoon we had lunch together. Afterward, she
 accompanied me back to work. I thought this slightly unusual,
 since she had never before expressed in interest in my work
 (electronic engineering), but it didn't occur to me that she
 had something planned.

 We arrived at my workbench, where I currently trying to figure
 why the $&#%@^$ board on which I am working is not performing
 the way it is designed. "Is this where you work?" she asked.

 "At the moment," I replied.
 I reached over to turn on the scope, thereby completely
 failing to notice the huge black studded collar she had
 produced from her purse. Before I could blink (it's amazing
 the speed at which she can do this), she had locked the collar
 snugly around my neck, and locked the end of the 6 foot jack


 chain to the center of the bench ( where there just happened
 to be a mounting hole, dammit). I turned to her in utter
 disbelief, mouth agape.

 "I'll be back for you at five," she said.
 "HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY WACKO!??!?!", I yelled in a hushed
 voice. "How the hell am I going to explain this!?!?!"
 "You'll think of something", she said, dropping the keys into
 her cleavage, "you always do".
 "But suppose I have to go to the bathroom", I countered.
 "Don't give me that", she hissed, "I've seen you go a whole
 day without visiting the bathroom"
 "But....," I tried to say.
 "SHHH! The subject is closed. I'll be back at five. Bye"

 She turned around and left, against my hushed protests. I sat in panic
and tried to think out my situation. I tried to think of who might
visit. Most of my co-workers were friends who knew that my girlfriend
and I were a bit odd, so this shouldn't surprise them. But I had *no*
idea what I was going to do if one of my bosses came in. I checked my
watch to see how long I would have to endure this ignominy. 13:30 (I'm a
military time weenie).  "Three and a half hours," I thought. I heaved a
heavy sigh, and got to work, such as I could.

 As it happened, three of my co-workers visited for what-not. All of
them immediately noticed the collar (it would be hard not to) and asked
if it was my girlfriend's idea. I said yes. They asked what I would do
if my supervisor saw it. I told them I hadn't the faintest idea.

 One of the aforementioned colleagues took the bench next to me, and
after a few remarks (and a question as to where he could get such a
collar), settled down to work in silence.

 After some time, I checked my watch. 16:40. "Gee, I just might make it
through this after all," I thought. I was even beginning to get a handle
on the problem with the $#%&&$# board on which I was working. Murphy
must have been standing right behind me, reading my thoughts, for not
two minutes later one of my bosses entered the room. And not just any
boss. Noooooooo.  This was Mr. Narrowminded himself. This was the guy
who took Lifespring *and* became a born-again fundamentalist. How he
came to have the power of hire-and-fire over us is one of the Great
Mysteries of The Universe. We avoided this guy at all costs.

 His eyes fell upon me immediately. A few picoseconds later, he saw the
collar around my neck in all it's splendor. "My life is over," I
thought. I still hadn't thought of a plausible explanation for this. Mr
Solderbrain (the name we called him behind his back; a corruption of his
real name) started to walk slowly and deliberately over to me, his eyes
fixed on the collar. Fifteen agonizing seconds later, he was standing
next to me. I thought the guy sitting next to me was going to have
seizures stifling all his giggles. I continued to work, acting as though
there were nothing the least bit unusual about my predicament.

 Finally, he spoke.

 "What. the. HELL! is. THAT!?!?!" he said.

 I don't know how I thought of what I said. In fact, I'm pretty sure I
didn't know what I was going to say until I was saying it. I'm even more
amazed that Solderbrain actually bought it and didn't fire me on the
spot.

 I turned to face him calmly, with total nonchalance, exuding complete
confidence in what I was about to say, even though I didn't know what it
was yet. I didn't even miss a beat.

 "Grounding strap," I said, and returned to work.

 The guy next to me fell off his chair and nearly died laughing.




Salutations from --Christchurch-+
  ICE-man in      /\            |          \ | /   Mountains, Sunshine
 New Zealand     /  \/\         |  /\     -- O --   Forestry, Farming
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^/      \!!ii,,..@-/==\---^-^-^-^-^ Beaches and Surfing


... I C E-man.. I'm a mere dabbler compared to some of the wizards in here.

--- EzyBlueWave V2.01b006 00F90257
 * Origin: Afraid of the competition? We ARE the Competition! (3:633/104)