<?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-29420538</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:18:55.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FUNNY FINGER</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>68</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-6695564106976881552</id><published>2007-05-02T21:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:29:34.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who gave you those black eyes?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A regular at Bob's Bar came in one evening sporting a matched pair of swollen black eyes that appeared extremely painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whoa, Sam!" said the bartender. "Who gave those beauties to you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nobody gave them to me," said Sam. "I had to fight like crazy for both of them."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-6695564106976881552?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/6695564106976881552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=6695564106976881552' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/6695564106976881552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/6695564106976881552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/05/who-gave-you-those-black-eyes-regular.html' title='Who gave you those black eyes?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-1548110711415837986</id><published>2007-05-02T21:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:30:03.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll trust you that you paid</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man walks into a bar and has a couple of beers. Once he is donem the bartender tells him he owes $9.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I paid, don't you remember?" says the customer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay," says the bartender, "If you said you paid, you did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man then goes outside and tells the first person he sees that the bartender can't keep track of whether his customers have paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man then rushes in, orders a beer and later pulls the same stunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barkeep replies, "If you say you paid, I'll take your word for it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon the customer goes into the street, sees an old friend, and tells him how to get free drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man hurries into the bar and begins to drink high-balls when, suddenly, the bartender leans over sand says, "You know, a funny thing happened in here tonight. Two men were drinking beer, neither paid and both claimed that they did. The next guy who tries that is going to get punched right in the nose."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't bother me with your troubles," the final patron responds. "Just give me my change and I'll be on my way."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-1548110711415837986?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/1548110711415837986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=1548110711415837986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/1548110711415837986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/1548110711415837986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/05/ill-trust-you-that-you-paid-man-walks.html' title='I&apos;ll trust you that you paid'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-2867250361110405994</id><published>2007-05-02T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:30:33.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Female hormones in beer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yesterday, scientists in the United States revealed that beer contains small traces of female hormones.To prove their theory, they fed one hundred men twelve pints of beer and observed that 100% of them started talking nonsense and couldn't drive.&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-2867250361110405994?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/2867250361110405994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=2867250361110405994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2867250361110405994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2867250361110405994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/05/female-hormones-in-beer-yesterday.html' title='Female hormones in beer'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-356902320301631703</id><published>2007-04-19T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:30:50.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving very odd excuses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;The General went out to find that none of his G.I.s were there. One finally ran up, panting heavily.&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, sir! I can explain, you see I had a date and it ran a little late. I ran to the bus but missed it, I hailed a cab but it broke down, found a farm, bought a horse but it dropped dead, ran 10 miles, and now I'm here."&lt;br /&gt;The General was very skeptical about this explanation but at least he was here so he let the G.I. go. Moments later, eight more G.I.s came up to the general panting, he asked them why they were late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, sir! I had a date and it ran a little late, I ran to the bus but missed it, I hailed a cab but it broke down, found a farm, bought a horse but it dropped dead, ran 10 miles, and now I'm here."&lt;br /&gt;The General eyed them, feeling very skeptical but since he let the first guy go, he let them go, too. A ninth G.I. jogged up to the General, panting heavily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, sir! I had a date and it ran a little late, I ran to the bus but missed it, I hailed a cab but..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me guess," the General interrupted, "it broke down."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the G.I., "there were so many dead horses in the road, it took forever to get around them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &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/29420538-356902320301631703?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/356902320301631703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=356902320301631703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/356902320301631703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/356902320301631703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/04/giving-very-odd-excuses-general-went.html' title='Giving very odd excuses'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-4764172273841221023</id><published>2007-04-19T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:57:42.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's on your back?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Three men are traveling in the Amazon, a German, an American, and a Mexican, and they get captured by some Amazons. The head of the tribe says to the German, "What do you want on your back for your whipping?"The German responds, "I will take oil!" So they put oil on his back, and a large Amazon whips him ten times. When he is finished the German has these huge welts on his back, and he can hardly move.The Amazons haul the German away, and say to the Mexican, "What do you want on your back?" "I will take nothing!" says the Mexican, and he stands there straight and takes his ten lashings without a single flinch."What will you take on your back?" the Amazons ask the American. He responds, "I'll take the Mexican."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &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/29420538-4764172273841221023?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/4764172273841221023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=4764172273841221023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4764172273841221023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4764172273841221023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/04/whats-on-your-back-three-men-are.html' title='What&apos;s on your back?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-5222726995272812195</id><published>2007-03-04T22:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:31:32.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating the piece of fruit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two Polish guys were taking their first train trip to Warsaw on the train. A vendor came down the corridor selling bananas which they'd never seen before. Each bought one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one eagerly peeled the banana and bit into it just as the train went into a tunnel. When the train emerged from the tunnel, he looked across to his friend and said, "I wouldn't eat that if I were you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I took one bite and went blind for half a minute."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&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/29420538-5222726995272812195?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/5222726995272812195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=5222726995272812195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/5222726995272812195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/5222726995272812195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/03/eating-piece-of-fruit-two-polish-guys.html' title='Eating the piece of fruit'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-4175904417728318686</id><published>2007-03-04T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:31:49.411-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Using nails on a house</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;These two republicans are building a house. One of them is putting on the siding. He picks up a nail, hammers it in. Picks up another nail, throws it away. Picks up a nail, hammers it in. Picks up another, throws it away. This goes on for a while, and finally his friend comes over and asks him why he is throwing half of the nails away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replies, "Those ones were pointed on the wrong end." The buddy gets exasperated and says "You idiot, those nails are for the other side of the house!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-4175904417728318686?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/4175904417728318686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=4175904417728318686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4175904417728318686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4175904417728318686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/03/using-nails-on-house-these-two.html' title='Using nails on a house'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-7210537936219482074</id><published>2007-03-04T22:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:57:25.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bragging about Japan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There was a Japanese man who went to America for sightseeing. On the last day, he hailed a cab and told the driver to drive to the airport. During the journey, a Honda drove past the taxi. Thereupon, the man leaned out of the window excitedly and yelled, "Honda, very fast! Made in Japan!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, a Toyota sped past the taxi. Again, the Japanese man leaned out of the window and yelled, "Toyota, very fast! Made in Japan!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then a Mitsubishi sped past the taxi. For the third time, the Japanese leaned out of the window and yelled, "Mitsubishi, very fast! Made in Japan!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver was a little angry, but he kept quiet. And this went on for quite a number of cars. Finally, the taxi came to the airport. The fare was US$300.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese exclaimed, "Wah... so expensive!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There upon, the driver yelled back, "Meter, very fast! Made in Japan!"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&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/29420538-7210537936219482074?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/7210537936219482074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=7210537936219482074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/7210537936219482074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/7210537936219482074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/03/bragging-about-japan-there-was-japanese.html' title='Bragging about Japan'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-1797721749051193577</id><published>2007-03-04T22:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:32:28.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Will I live any longer?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patient: Doctor, if I give up wine, women, and clubs, will I live longer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: Not really. It will just seem longer.&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-1797721749051193577?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/1797721749051193577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=1797721749051193577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/1797721749051193577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/1797721749051193577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/03/will-i-live-any-longer-patient-doctor.html' title='Will I live any longer?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-2046870338503218540</id><published>2007-02-03T22:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:32:50.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diplomat wants water</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An Arab diplomat visiting the U.S. for the first time was being wined and dined by the State Department. The Grand Emir was unused to the salt in American foods (french fries, cheeses, salami, anchovies etc.) and was constantly sending his manservant Abdul to fetch him a glass of water. Time and again, Abdul would scamper off and return with a glass of water, but then came the time when he returned empty-handed. Abdul, you son of an ugly camel, where is my water? demanded the Grand Emir. A thousand pardons, O Illustrious One, stammered the wretched Abdul, white man sit on well.&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-2046870338503218540?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/2046870338503218540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=2046870338503218540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2046870338503218540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2046870338503218540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/02/diplomat-wants-water-arab-diplomat.html' title='Diplomat wants water'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-2581034850178788472</id><published>2007-02-03T22:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:55:58.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A drunk Irisihman falls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please, God," he implored, "let it be blood!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-2581034850178788472?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/2581034850178788472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=2581034850178788472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2581034850178788472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/2581034850178788472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/02/drunk-irisihman-falls-oconnell-was.html' title='A drunk Irisihman falls'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-8828008014505314517</id><published>2007-02-03T22:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:33:28.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The punishments in hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man dies, and he's looking in the gates of hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There he sees John Kennedy with an incredibly ugly girl. The man turns to the Devil and asks why John Kennedy is with this hideous looking person. The Devil replies, "Well, John has done some bad things in his life and that's his punishment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man looks around a little more and sees George Bush with a beautiful model. The stunned guy asks "What's Bush doing with that model?" The devil replied, "Well, that model did some pretty bad things in her life."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-8828008014505314517?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/8828008014505314517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=8828008014505314517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/8828008014505314517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/8828008014505314517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/02/punishments-in-hell-man-dies-and-hes.html' title='The punishments in hell'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-4175892957796363850</id><published>2007-02-03T22:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:33:59.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blondes to the moon</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;At a press conference &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;the Brunettes announce they are going to make a trip to the Moon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Redheads speak up "That's been done before, we're going to go to Mars". &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Blondes speak up "That's nothing, we're going to be the first people to go to the Sun". &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One of the reporters says "Don't you idiots know that you'll burn up?" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Blondes say "NO WE WON'T; WE'RE GOING TO GO AT NIGHT!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-4175892957796363850?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/4175892957796363850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=4175892957796363850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4175892957796363850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/4175892957796363850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/02/blondes-to-moon-at-press-conference.html' title='Blondes to the moon'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116866550617584355</id><published>2007-01-12T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:34:16.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Misunderstanding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Freddie said to Little Johnny, "My dad's tougher than your dad!""Oh yeah?" said Little Johnny, "My dad is so tough, he has lightbulbs fordinner!""Really?"Yeah, the other night I heard him tell my mom, 'Turn out the light, I wanna eat it!'"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116866550617584355?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116866550617584355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116866550617584355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866550617584355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866550617584355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/misunderstanding.html' title='Misunderstanding'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116866541191122519</id><published>2007-01-12T21:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:34:32.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'>3 man at the Bar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Three men were drinking at a bar -- a doctor, an attorney and a biker. As the doctor was drinking his white wine he said, "For her birthday, I'm going to buy my wife a fur coat and a diamond ring. This way, if she doesn't like the fur coat she will still love me because she got a diamond ring." As the attorney was drinking his martini he said, "For my wife's birthday, I'm going to buy her a designer dress and a gold bracelet. This way, if she doesn't like the dress she will still love me because she got the gold bracelet." As the biker was drinking his shots of whiskey he said, "I'm going to buy my wife a T-shirt and a vibrator. This way, if she doesn't like the T-shirt she can go fuck herself!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116866541191122519?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116866541191122519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116866541191122519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866541191122519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866541191122519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/3-man-at-bar.html' title='3 man at the Bar'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116866528788140927</id><published>2007-01-12T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:34:48.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A nun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A nun is walking down the street, when suddenly a punk jumps out of thebushes and hits her over the head, proceeds to kick her in the groin andbreak her nose with a massive left hook. As the nun is lying bleeding onthe floor, the guy looks down and says:You're getting slow in your old age, Batman.&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116866528788140927?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116866528788140927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116866528788140927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866528788140927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116866528788140927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/nun.html' title='A nun'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116770558485157322</id><published>2007-01-01T18:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:35:16.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RedNeck Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Poor Clyde died in a fire and was burnt pretty badly. The morgue needed someone to identify the body. So his two best friends, Clem and Zeke, were sent for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clem went in and the mortician pulled back the sheet. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Clem said "Yup, he's burnt pretty bad. Roll him over." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So the mortician rolled him over &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Clem looked and said "Nope, ain't Clyde." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The mortician thought that was rather strange. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then he brought Zeke to identify the body &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Zeke took a look at him and said "Yup, he's burnt real bad, roll him over."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The mortician rolled him over and Zeke looked down and said "No, it ain't Clyde."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mortician asked "How can you tell?" Zeke said, "Well, Clyde had two assholes." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What? He had two assholes?" said the mortician. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Zeke said, "Yup, everyone in town knew he had two assholes. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Every time we went to town, folks would say "Here comes Clyde with them two assholes."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116770558485157322?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116770558485157322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116770558485157322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770558485157322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770558485157322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/redneck-friends.html' title='RedNeck Friends'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116770550323260507</id><published>2007-01-01T18:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:35:34.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not so smart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In a courtroom, a pursesnatcher is on trial and the victim is stating what happened. She says, "Yes, that is him. I saw him clear as day. I'd remember his face anywhere." At which point, the defendant bursts out, "You couldn't see my face, lady. I was wearing a mask!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116770550323260507?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116770550323260507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116770550323260507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770550323260507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770550323260507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/not-so-smart-in-courtroom.html' title='Not so smart'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116770541947839451</id><published>2007-01-01T18:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:35:49.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Papa is OK</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The class assignment in composition was to write about something unusual that happened during the past week. Little Irving got up to read his. "Papa fell in the well last week - " he began. "Good heavens," shrieked Mrs. Kroop, the teacher. "Is he all right now?" "He must be," said little Irving. "He stopped yelling for help yesterday."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116770541947839451?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116770541947839451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116770541947839451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770541947839451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770541947839451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/papa-is-ok-class-assignment-in.html' title='Papa is OK'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116770525777657506</id><published>2007-01-01T18:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:36:07.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats Her name...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man was invited for dinner at a friend's house. Every time the host needed something, he preceded his request to his wife by calling her "My Love", "Darling", "Sweetheart", etc., etc. His friend looked at him and said, "That's really nice after all of these years you've been married to keep saying those little pet names." The host said, "Well, honestly, I've forgotten her name."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116770525777657506?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116770525777657506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116770525777657506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770525777657506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116770525777657506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2007/01/whats-her-name.html' title='Whats Her name...'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116745846440806449</id><published>2006-12-29T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:36:23.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired of Welfare</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A guy walks into the local welfare office, marches straight up to the counter and says to the social worker, "Hi... You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job." The social worker behind the counter says, "Sir your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur/bodyguard for his nymphomaniac daughter. You'll have to drive around in his Mercedes. All your clothing will be provided. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll be expected to escort the daughter on her overseas holiday trips. You will have to satisfy all her sexual urges. You'll be provided a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. Your starting salary will be $200,000 a year". The guy says, "You're bullsh*ttin' me!" The social worker says, "Yeah, well, you started it."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116745846440806449?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116745846440806449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116745846440806449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116745846440806449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116745846440806449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/tired-of-welfare.html' title='Tired of Welfare'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116745828989241554</id><published>2006-12-29T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:36:43.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Teacher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A new teacher was trying to make use of her psychology courses. She started her class by saying, "Everyone who thinks you're stupid, stand up!" After a few seconds, Little Johnny stood up. The teacher said, "Do you think you're stupid, Little Johnny?" "No, ma'am, but I hate to see you standing there all by yourself!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116745828989241554?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116745828989241554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116745828989241554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116745828989241554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116745828989241554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html' title='New Teacher'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116659503818092940</id><published>2006-12-19T22:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:37:01.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What a large crowd</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man was traveling down a country road when he saw a large group of people outside a house. He stopped and asked a person why the large crowd was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A farmer replied, "Joe's mule kicked his mother-in-law and she died."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," replied the man, "she must have had a lot of friends."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope," said the farmer, "we all just want to buy his mule."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116659503818092940?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116659503818092940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116659503818092940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116659503818092940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116659503818092940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-large-crowd-man-was-traveling.html' title='What a large crowd'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116659498516672805</id><published>2006-12-19T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:37:20.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to the office</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hubby - You always carry my photo in your handbag to the office. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife - When there is a problem, no matter how impossible, I look at your picture and the problem disappears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby - You see, how miraculous and powerful I am for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife - Yes, I see your picture and say to myself, "What other problem can there be greater than this one?"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116659498516672805?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116659498516672805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116659498516672805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116659498516672805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116659498516672805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/going-to-office-hubby-you-always-carry.html' title='Going to the office'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116530183579873243</id><published>2006-12-04T22:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:37:43.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Arriving home very drunk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man is in a bar and falling off his stool every couple of minutes. He is obviously drunk. So the bartender says to another half drunk man in the bar: "Why don't you be a good Samaritan and take him home."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The two drunks head out the door and to his car and they stumble at least ten times. They drive along and the drunk points out his house to the man. He stops the car and the drunk stumbles up the steps to his house with the man.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The drunk's wife greets them at the door: "Why thank you for bringing him home , but where's his wheel chair?"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116530183579873243?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116530183579873243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116530183579873243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116530183579873243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116530183579873243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/arriving-home-very-drunk.html' title='Arriving home very drunk'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116530165896159525</id><published>2006-12-04T22:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:01:07.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who can say this sentence?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Taco Bell Chihuahua, a Doberman and a Bulldog are in a bar having adrink when a great-looking female Collie comes up to them and says, "Whoever can say liver and cheese in a sentence can have me." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So the Doberman says, "I love liver and cheese." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Collie replies, "That's not good enough." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bulldog says, "I hate liver and cheese." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She says, "That's not creative enough."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Finally, the Chihuahua says, "Liver alone . . . cheese mine."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116530165896159525?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116530165896159525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116530165896159525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116530165896159525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116530165896159525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/12/who-can-say-this-sentence.html' title='Who can say this sentence?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116418323096799855</id><published>2006-11-22T00:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:00:30.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The real problem</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;A little old lady goes to the doctor and says, "Doctor I have this problem with gas, but it really doesn't bother me too much. They never smell and are always silent. As a matter of fact, I've farted at least 20 times since I've been here in your office. You didn't know I was farting, because they don't smell and are quite silent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor says, "I see. Please take two of these pills each day, and come back to see me next week."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next week the lady comes back. "Doctor, she says, I don't know what the hell you gave me, but now my farts - though still silent-really stink terribly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor replied, "Good!!! Now that we've cleared up your sinuses, lets work on your hearing... "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/29420538-116418323096799855?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116418323096799855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116418323096799855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116418323096799855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116418323096799855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/real-problem-little-old-lady-goes-to.html' title='The real problem'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116279342753183986</id><published>2006-11-05T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:00:08.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>where is that paper?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;A general noticed one of his soldiers behaving oddly. The soldier would pick up any piece of paper he found, frown and say, "That's not it" and put it down again. This went on for some time, until the general arranged to have the soldier psychologically tested. The psychologist concluded that the soldier was deranged, and wrote out his discharge from the army. The soldier picked it up, smiled and said, "That's it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&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/29420538-116279342753183986?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116279342753183986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116279342753183986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279342753183986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279342753183986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/where-is-that-paper-general-noticed.html' title='where is that paper?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116279334410831188</id><published>2006-11-05T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:59:50.057-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life after death</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A drill sergeant had just chewed out one of his cadets, and as he was walking away, he turned to the cadet and said, "I guess when I die you'll come and dance on my grave." The cadet replied, "Not me, Sarge...no sir! I promised myself that when I got out of the Army I'd never stand in another line!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116279334410831188?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116279334410831188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116279334410831188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279334410831188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279334410831188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/life-after-death.html' title='Life after death'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116279310686583521</id><published>2006-11-05T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:58:18.792-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life saver</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two guys were roaring down a country road on a motorcycle when the driver slowed up and pulled over. His leather jacket had a broken zipper, and he told his friend, "I can't drive anymore with the air hitting me in the chest like that." "Just put the jacket on backwards," his friend advised. They continued down the road but around the next bend, they lost control and wiped out. Banta came upon the accident and ran to call the police. They asked him, "Are they showing any signs of life?" "Well," Banta explained, "the driver was until I turned his head around the right way!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116279310686583521?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116279310686583521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116279310686583521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279310686583521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279310686583521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/life-saver.html' title='Life saver'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116279302947598695</id><published>2006-11-05T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:58:39.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For good cause</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fred collected lots of money from trick-or-treating and he went to the candy store to buy some chocolate. "You should give that money to charity," said the sales girl.Fred thought for a moment and said, "No, I'll buy the chocolate. You give the money to charity."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116279302947598695?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116279302947598695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116279302947598695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279302947598695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279302947598695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/for-good-cause.html' title='For good cause'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116279290414557384</id><published>2006-11-05T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:59:09.629-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen to me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A business man got on an elevator in a building. When he entered the elevator, there was a blonde already inside and she greeted him by saying, "T-G-I-F" (letters only).&lt;br /&gt;He smiled at her and replied, "S-H-I-T" (letters only)."&lt;br /&gt;She looked at him, puzzled, and said, "T-G-I-F" again.&lt;br /&gt;He acknowledged her remark again by answering, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;The blond was trying to be friendly, so she smiled her biggest smile and said as sweetly as possibly "T-G-I-F" another time.&lt;br /&gt;The man smiled back to her and once again replied with a quizzical expression, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;The blond finally decided to explain things, and this time she said, "T-G-I-F, Thank Goodness It's Friday, get it?"&lt;br /&gt;The man answered, "Sorry, Honey, It's Thursday."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116279290414557384?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116279290414557384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116279290414557384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279290414557384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116279290414557384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/11/listen-to-me-business-man-got-on.html' title='Listen to me'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116150595772576425</id><published>2006-10-22T01:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:02:49.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Misunderstanding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two drunks had just gotten thrown out of the bar and are walking down the street when they come across this dog, sitting on the curb, licking his balls. They stand there watching and after a while one of them says, " I sure wish I could do that!"The other one looks at him and says, "Well, I think I'd pet him first".&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116150595772576425?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116150595772576425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116150595772576425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150595772576425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150595772576425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/misunderstanding.html' title='Misunderstanding'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116150569969819967</id><published>2006-10-22T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:59:30.097-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas for the president</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Marine was coming home from the Pentagon one day. He noticed that there was a lot more traffic than normal. As he got further up the road all of the traffic had come to a halt. He saw a policeman coming towards his car, so he asked the cop what was wrong. The cop said, "Man we are in a crisis situation. Mr. Bush is in the road very upset. He does not have the $338.5 Billion that he owes the world, and his Country hates him. He is threatening to douse himself in gasoline and start a fire." The marine asked the cop exactly what he was doing there." The cop said, " I feel sorry for the president so I am going car to car asking for donations." The marine asked, "How much do you have so far?" The cop replied, "Well as of right now only 33 gallons, but many people are still siphoning as we speak!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116150569969819967?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116150569969819967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116150569969819967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150569969819967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150569969819967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/gas-for-president.html' title='Gas for the president'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-116150535370356556</id><published>2006-10-22T01:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:48:05.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indian name</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One day an Indian boy asked his father why they have such long names? The dad answers, "Well son whenever a Indian baby is born the father would go outside and name the baby after the first thing he sees... Why do you ask Two Dogs Fucking."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-116150535370356556?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/116150535370356556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=116150535370356556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150535370356556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/116150535370356556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/indian-nameone-day-indian-boy-asked.html' title='Indian name'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115974564742544895</id><published>2006-10-01T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:46:07.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This pill allows you to fly</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man went into a bar in a high rise. He saw another man take a pill, take a drink, walk to the window and jump out. He flew around for a minute and zipped back into the bar.As the amazed newcomer watched, the man repeated this twice more. Finally the man asked if he could have a pill. The flier said it was his last one. The man offered five hundred dollars to no avail, so he made a final offer of a thousand dollars. The man said that it was all he had on him.The flier reluctantly gave in, took the cash, surrendered the pill, and turned back to the bar. The man took the pill, took a drink, went to the window, and jumped out only to fall to his death. The bartender walked over to the flier at the bar and, wiping a glass, said, "You sure are mean when you're drunk, Superman."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115974564742544895?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115974564742544895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115974564742544895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974564742544895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974564742544895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/this-pill-allows-you-to-fly-man-went.html' title='This pill allows you to fly'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115974518629446659</id><published>2006-10-01T16:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:46:26.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Caught stealing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;A shoplifter was caught red-handed trying to steal a watch from an exclusive jewelry store. "Listen," said the shoplifter, "I know you don't want any trouble either. What do you say I just buy the watch, and we forget about this?"The manager agreed and wrote up the sales slip. The crook looked at the slip and said, "This is a little more than I intended to spend. Can you show me something less expensive?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115974518629446659?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115974518629446659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115974518629446659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974518629446659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974518629446659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/caught-stealing-shoplifter-was-caught.html' title='Caught stealing'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115974513131873177</id><published>2006-10-01T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:46:49.488-08:00</updated><title type='text'>At a grocery store</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;A man observed a woman in the grocery store with a three year old girl in her basket. As they passed the cookie section, the little girl asked for cookies and her mother told her, "No." The little girl immediately began to whine and fuss, and the mother said quietly, "Now Monica, we just have half of the aisles left to go through - don't be upset. It won't be long now." Soon, they came to the candy aisle and the little girl began to shout for candy. When told she couldn't have any, she began to cry. The mother said, "There, there, Monica, don't cry - only two more aisles to go and then we'll be checking out." When they got to the checkout stand, the little girl immediately began to clamor for gum and burst into a terrible tantrum upon discovering there'd be no gum purchased. The mother said serenely, "Monica, we'll be through this check out stand in 5 minutes and then you can go home and have a nice nap." The man followed them out to the parking lot and stopped the woman to compliment her. "I couldn't help noticing how patient you were with little Monica," he began. The mother replied, "I'm Monica - my little girl's name is Tammy." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115974513131873177?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115974513131873177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115974513131873177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974513131873177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115974513131873177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/10/at-grocery-storea-man-observed-woman.html' title='At a grocery store'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115726782221081899</id><published>2006-09-03T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:47:05.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A drunk man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked," Say, Father, what causes arthritis?""My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, a contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of bath." "Well, I'll be damned," the drunk muttered, returning to his paper. The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?" "I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115726782221081899?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115726782221081899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115726782221081899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115726782221081899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115726782221081899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/09/drunk-man-drunk-man-who-smelled-like.html' title='Drunk man'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115726752800602615</id><published>2006-09-03T00:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:47:24.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not my Beer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;After the Great Britain Beer Festival, in London, all the brewery presidents decided to go out for a beer.&lt;br /&gt;The guy from Corona sits down and says, "Hey Senor, I would like the world's best beer, a Corona." The bartender dusts off a bottle from the shelf and gives it to him.&lt;br /&gt;The guy from Budweiser says, "I'd like the best beer in the world, give me 'The King Of Beers', a Budweiser." The bartender gives him one.&lt;br /&gt;The guy from Coors says, "I'd like the only beer made with Rocky Mountain spring water, give me a Coors." He gets it.&lt;br /&gt;The guy from Guinness sits down and says, "Give me a Coke." The bartender is a little taken aback, but gives him what he ordered.&lt;br /&gt;The other brewery presidents look over at him and ask "Why aren't you drinking a Guinness?" and the Guinness president replies, "Well, I figured if you guys aren't drinking beer, neither would I."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115726752800602615?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115726752800602615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115726752800602615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115726752800602615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115726752800602615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/09/not-my-beer-after-great-britain-beer.html' title='Not my Beer'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115545830673195912</id><published>2006-08-13T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:47:47.547-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Lunch</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;An Irishman, a Mexican and a redneck were doing construction work on the scaffolding of a tall building. They were eating lunch. The Irishman said, "Corned beef and cabbage! If I get corned beef and cabbage one more time for lunch, I'm going to jump off this building."The Mexican opened his lunch box and exclaimed, "Burritos again! If I get burritos one more time, I'm going to jump off too." The redneck opened his lunch and said, "Bologna again. If I get a bologna sandwich one more time, I'm jumping too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;Next day the Irishman opens his lunch box, sees corned beef and cabbage and jumps to his death. The Mexican opens his lunch, sees a burrito and jumps too. The redneck opens his lunch, sees the bologna and jumps to his death as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;At the funeral, the Irishman's wife is weeping. She says, "I I'd known how really tired he was of corned beef and cabbage, I never would have given it to him again!" The Mexican's wife also weeps and says, "I could have given him tacos or enchiladas! I didn't realize he hated burritos so much."Everyone turned and stared at the redneck's wife. "Hey, don't look at me," she said. "He makes his own lunch."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115545830673195912?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115545830673195912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115545830673195912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115545830673195912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115545830673195912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/08/last-lunch.html' title='Last Lunch'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115450092054092820</id><published>2006-08-01T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:48:43.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAZARDOUS MATERIALS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;INFORMATION SHEET ELEMENT: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Women SYMBOL: Wo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;DISCOVERER: Adam &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ATOMIC MASS: Accepted at 53.6kg, but known to vary from 40-200kg &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;OCCURRENCES: Copious quantities in all urban areas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;PHYSICAL PROPERTIES:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Surface usually covered in painted film &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2. Boils at nothing; freezes w/o known reason &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;3. Melts if given special treatment &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;4. Bitter if incorrectly used &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;5. Found in various states from virgin metal to common ore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;6. Yields if pressure applied in correct places &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;CHEMICAL PROPERTIES: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Has great affinity for gold, silver, and a range of precious stones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2. Absorbs great quantities of expensive substances &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;3. May explode spontaneously w/o prior warning and for no apparent reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;4. Insoluble in liquids, but libido increases greatly when saturated with alcohol &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;5. Most powerful money reducing agent known to man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;COMMON USES: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Highly ornamental, especially in sports cars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2. Can be a great aid to relaxation; sure beats a hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;3. Very effective cleaning agent. Purer specimens cooks as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;TESTS: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Pure specimen turns rosy pink when discovered in the natural state. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2. Turns green when placed beside a better specimen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;HAZARDS: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Highly dangerous except in experienced hands. Even then, to be handled with extreme care. 2. Illegal to possess more than one, although several can be maintained at different locations as long as specimens do not come into direct contact with each other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115450092054092820?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115450092054092820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115450092054092820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450092054092820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450092054092820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/08/hazardous-materials-information-sheet.html' title='HAZARDOUS MATERIALS'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115450042523513764</id><published>2006-08-01T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:49:03.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I didnt Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A blonde driving a car became lost in a snowstorm. She didn't panic however, because she remembered what her dad had once told her. "If you ever get stuck in a snowstorm, just wait for a snow plow to come by and follow it." Sure enough, pretty soon a snow plow came by, and she started to follow it. She followed the plow for about forty-five minutes. Finally the driver of the truck got out and asked her what she was doing. And she explained that her dad had told her if she ever got stuck in a snow storm, to follow a plow. The driver nodded and said, "Well, I'm done with the Wal-Mart parking lot, do you want to follow me over to K-Mart now?"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115450042523513764?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115450042523513764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115450042523513764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450042523513764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450042523513764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-didnt-know-blonde-driving-car-became.html' title='I didnt Know'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115450033978712009</id><published>2006-08-01T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:49:55.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The better story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Two men camping in the mountains had spent four days together, and they were getting a little testy. One morning, the first friend says, "You know, we're starting to get on each other's nerves. Why don't we split up today. I'll hike north and spend the day looking around, you hike south and spend the day. Then tonight, we'll have dinner and share our experiences over the campfire." The second friend agrees and hikes south. The first man hikes north. That night over dinner, the first man tells his story: "Today I hiked into a beautiful valley. I followed a stream up into a canyon and ate lunch. Then I swam in a crystal clear mountain lake. As I sat out and dried, I watched deer come and drink from the stream. The wildflowers were filled with butterflies and hawks floated all day overhead. How was your day?" The second friend says, "I went south and ran across a set of railroad tracks. I followed them until I came across a beautiful young woman tied to the tracks. I cut the ropes off, gently lifted her off the tracks, and I had sex with her in every imaginable way all afternoon. Finally, when I was so tired I could barely move, I came back to camp." "Wow!!" the first guy exclaimed, "Your day was MUCH better than mine. Did you get a blow job, too?" "Nah," says the second friend over his meal, "I couldn't find her head."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115450033978712009?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115450033978712009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115450033978712009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450033978712009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450033978712009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/08/better-story-two-men-camping-in.html' title='The better story'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115450019292584863</id><published>2006-08-01T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:49:30.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Joke ( ADULTS ONLY!!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A man walks into a Pharmacy and says to the beautiful female teller, "Umm... err, I've never purchased condoms before, and I don't know what size to buy." "That's okay. You can test your size on the fence out in back." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So the man walks out back and he sees three holes. Just as he prepares to stick his penis in the first hole, the beautiful teller sneaks over to the other side of the fence. The man sticks his penis through the first hole where it is gently caressed by the teller. Then he pulls it it out and sticks it through the second hole where the teller begins to suck his penis and give him a blow job. Then, finally, he pulls it out and sticks it in the third hole. The teller takes her clothes off completley and begins to hump him. She quickly pulls up her pants and scurries back inside where the man is begining to stumble back in. She starts to giggle and says, "Have you decided on the appropriate size?" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;"Screw the condoms! Just give me 3 yards of that fence!"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115450019292584863?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115450019292584863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115450019292584863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450019292584863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115450019292584863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/08/dirty-joke-adults-only-man-walks-into.html' title='Dirty Joke ( ADULTS ONLY!!)'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115369732528587515</id><published>2006-07-23T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:50:33.285-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feminist Protest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A professor told dirty jokes in class and the women wanted to protest it. So they decided that in the next time that the professor will start with these kind of jokes they all will leave the class as a protest. Somehow the professor heard about the plan. In the next lecture, in the beginning of the lecture he said: "In Sweden a prostitute makes $2000 per night." All the women stood up and started to leave the class. So he shouted after them: "Where are you going? The plane to Sweden doesn't take off until the day after tomorrow."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt; &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/29420538-115369732528587515?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115369732528587515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115369732528587515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369732528587515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369732528587515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_23.html' title='Feminist Protest'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115369718607829072</id><published>2006-07-23T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:54:16.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Boyfriend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A redneck father confronted his daughter one night. "I don't like that new boyfriend, he's rough and common and bloody stupid with it." "Oh no, Daddy," the daughter replied, "Fred's ever so clever, we've only been going out nine weeks and he's cured me of that illness I used to get once a month."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115369718607829072?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115369718607829072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115369718607829072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369718607829072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369718607829072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115369718607829072.html' title='Stupid Boyfriend'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115369712446375259</id><published>2006-07-23T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:54:38.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Contest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The National Poetry Contest had come down to two, a Yale graduate and a redneck from Texas. They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study the word and come up with a poem that contained the word. The word they were given was “Timbuktu.” First to recite his poem was the Yale graduate. He stepped to the microphone and said: Slowly across the desert sand Trekked a lonely caravan; Men on camels, two by two Destination Timbuktu. The crowd went crazy! No way could the redneck top that, they thought. The redneck calmly made his way to the microphone and recited: Me and Tim a huntin’ went. Met three whores in a pop up tent. They was three, and we was two, So I bucked one, and Timbuktu.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; &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/29420538-115369712446375259?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115369712446375259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115369712446375259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369712446375259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369712446375259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115369712446375259.html' title='Poetry Contest'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115369701076017150</id><published>2006-07-23T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:55:03.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Lobsters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After a day fishing in the ocean a fisherman is walking from the pier carrying two lobsters in a bucket. He is approached by the Game Warden who asks him for his fishing license. The fisherman says to the warden, "I did not catch these lobsters, they are my pets. Everyday I come down to the water and whistle and these lobster jump out and I take them for a walk only to return them at the end of the day." The warden, not believing him, reminds him that it is illegal to fish without a license. The fisherman turns to the warden and says, "If you don't believe me then watch," as he throws the lobsters back into the water. The warden says, "Now whistle to your lobsters and show me that they will come out of the water." The fisherman turns to the warden and says, "What lobsters?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115369701076017150?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115369701076017150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115369701076017150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369701076017150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115369701076017150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115369701076017150.html' title='Pet Lobsters'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115311936281145398</id><published>2006-07-16T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:55:32.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cop wants an excuse</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A man was driving home late one afternoon, and he was driving above the speed limit. He notices a police car with its red lights on in his rear view mirror. He thinks "I can outrun this guy," so he floors it and the race is on. The cars are racing down the highway -- 60, 70, 80, 90 miles an hour. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Finally, as his speedometer passes 100, the guy figures "what the heck," and gives up. He pulls over to the curb. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The police officer gets out of his cruiser and approaches the car. He leans down and says "Listen mister, I've had a really lousy day, and I just want to go home. Give me a good excuse and I'll let you go." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The man thought for a moment and said... "Three weeks ago, my wife ran off with a police officer. When I saw your cruiser in my rear view mirror, I thought that you were the officer and that you were trying to give her back to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115311936281145398?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115311936281145398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115311936281145398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311936281145398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311936281145398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115311936281145398.html' title='Cop wants an excuse'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115311922237334435</id><published>2006-07-16T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:02:11.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is the wife in control?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Everybody on earth dies and goes to heaven. God comes and says "I want the men to make two lines. One line for the men that dominated their women on earth and the other line for the men that were whipped by their women. Also, I want all the women to go with St Peter." Said and done, the next time God looks the women are gone and there are two lines. The line of the men that were whipped was 100 miles long, on the line of men that dominated women there was only one man. God got mad and said. "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created you in my image, and you were all whipped by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons that stood up and made me proud, Learn from him!" Tell them my son how did you manage to be the only one on that line? The man said, "I don't know. My wife told me to stand here."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/29420538-115311922237334435?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115311922237334435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115311922237334435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311922237334435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311922237334435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115311922237334435.html' title='Is the wife in control?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115311870668926187</id><published>2006-07-16T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:01:46.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Car just broke DoWn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A priest and a nun are on their way back home from a trip when their car breaks down. They are unable to get it fixed, so they decide to spend the night in a hotel. The only hotel in the town has only one room available. Priest: Sister, I don't think the Lord would have a problem, under the circumstances, if we spent the night together in this one room. I'll sleep on the lounge and you have the bed. Nun: I think that would be okay. They prepare for bed and each one takes their agreed place in the room. Ten minutes later... Nun: Father, I'm terribly cold. Priest: Okay, I'll get you a blanket. (He does) Ten minutes later...Nun: Father, I'm still terribly cold. Priest: Okay Sister, I'll get you another blanket. (He does) Ten minutes later... Nun: Father, I'm still terribly cold. I don't think the Lord would mind if we acted as man and wife just for this one night.Priest: You're probably right...get up and get your own blanket.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115311870668926187?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115311870668926187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115311870668926187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311870668926187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115311870668926187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_16.html' title='Car just broke DoWn'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115225394609174154</id><published>2006-07-06T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:51:17.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The new CIA agents</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;.&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Three men are going through CIA training, trying to become secret agents. They finally got through all their written and physical tests when they are pulled aside by one of the instructors who took them to a small room with another room adjacent to it. They brought the first guy's wife into the room and left her there. The instructor then loaded two rounds into a pistol, handed it to the first man saying, "Go kill your wife of five years." The trainee took the weapon, went into the next room. He came back out one minute later and said, "I can't do it." The instructor replied, "Then you fail out, so get out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The second candidate's wife was brought to the room. The instructor then loaded two rounds into a pistol, handed it to the second man and said, "Go kill your wife of ten years." The trainee took the weapon, went into the next room, but returned three minutes later and said, "I can't do it." The instructor replied, "Then you fail out - get out." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Finally, the third candidate's wife was left in the adjacent room. The instructor loaded two rounds into a pistol, handed it to the third man and said, "Go kill your wife of fifteen years." The trainee took the weapon, went into the next room where there is silence for one minute. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Suddenly, there was the sound of two gunshot, followed by a huge commotion in the room. The third man came out finally, sweating profusely, and said, "You gave me blanks, so I had to choke her."&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115225394609174154?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115225394609174154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115225394609174154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225394609174154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225394609174154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_06.html' title='The new CIA agents'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115225380116877893</id><published>2006-07-06T23:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:51:37.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is your wife??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;.&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On a rural road a state trooper pulled this farmer over and said: "Sir, do you realize your wife fell out of the car several miles back?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To which the farmer replied: "Thank God, I thought I had gone deaf!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/29420538-115225380116877893?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115225380116877893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115225380116877893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225380116877893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225380116877893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115225380116877893.html' title='Where is your wife??'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115225354223018978</id><published>2006-07-06T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:52:00.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexican at the border</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A US Border Patrol Agent catches an illegal alien in the bushes right by the border fence, he pulls him out and says "Sorry, you know the law, you've got to go back across the border right now." The mexican man pleads with them, "No, noooo Senior, I must stay in de USA! Pleeeze!" The Border Patrol Agent thinks to himself, I'm going to make it hard for him and says "Ok, I'll let you stay if you can use 3 english words in a sentence". The Mexican man of course agrees. The Border Patrol Agent tells him, "The 3 words are: Green, Pink and Yellow. Now use them in 1 sentence." The Mexican man thinks really hard for about 2 minutes, then says, "Hmmm, Ok. The phone, it went Green, Green, Green, I Pink it up and sez Yellow?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115225354223018978?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115225354223018978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115225354223018978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225354223018978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225354223018978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115225354223018978.html' title='Mexican at the border'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115225328630862029</id><published>2006-07-06T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:52:23.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A construction worker walks into a bar. He's a rather large, menacing guy. He orders a beer, chugs it back, and bellows, "All you guys on this side of the bar are a bunch of idiots!" A sudden silence descends.After a moment he asks "Anyone got a problem with that?" The silence lengthens.He then chugs back another beer and growls, "And all you guys on the other side of the bar are all scum!" Once again, the bar is silent.He looks around belligerently and roars, "Anyone got a problem with that?" A lone man gets up from his stool unsteadily and starts to walk towards the man."You got a problem, buddy?" "Oh no; I'm just on the wrong side of the bar."&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/29420538-115225328630862029?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115225328630862029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115225328630862029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225328630862029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225328630862029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115225328630862029.html' title='The Big Guy'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115225288823476537</id><published>2006-07-06T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:52:49.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Making a bet at a bar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two guys were in a bar, and they were both watching the television when the news came on. It showed a guy on a bridge who was about to jump, obviously suicidal. "I'll bet you $10 he'll jump," said the first guy. "Bet you $10 he won't," said the second guy.Then, the guy on the television closed his eyes and threw himself off the bridge. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The second guy hands the first guy the money."I can't take your money," said the first guy. "I cheated you. The same story was on the five o'clock news." "No, no. Take it," said the second guy. "I saw the five o'clock news too. I just didn't think the guy was dumb enough to jump again!"&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-115225288823476537?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115225288823476537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115225288823476537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225288823476537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115225288823476537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115225288823476537.html' title='Making a bet at a bar'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115174474586751966</id><published>2006-07-01T02:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:53:15.285-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jimmy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The teacher asked the class to write a rhyme. The next day she asked Jimmy to recite his rhyme to the class. He stood up and read:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I went down to the river to take a swim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I took off my shirt and hung it on a limb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I took off my britches and laid them in the grass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I jumped into the water up to my . . . knees."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The teacher said, "That's nice Jimmy, but it doesn't rhyme."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Jimmy replied, "Well, it would have if the water had been deeper."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115174474586751966?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115174474586751966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115174474586751966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174474586751966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174474586751966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_01.html' title='Jimmy'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115174462965511552</id><published>2006-07-01T02:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:53:50.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>$9 Dollar Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A scientist gets on a train to go to New York. His cabin also has a poor farmer in it. To pass the time the scientist decides to play a game with the guy."I will ask you a question and if you get it wrong, you have to pay me 1 dollar. Then you ask me a question, and if I get it wrong, you get 10 dollars. You ask me a question first." The farmer thinks for a while."I know. What has three legs, takes 10 hours to climb up a palm tree, and 10 seconds to get back down?"The scientist is confused and thinks long and hard about the question. Finally, the train ride is coming to an end. As it pulls into the station, the scientist takes out 10 dollars and gives it to the farmer."I don't know. What has 3 legs, takes 10 hours to get up a palm tree and 10 seconds to get back down?"The farmer takes the 10 dollars and puts it into his pocket. He then takes out 1 dollar and hands it to the scientist."I don't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115174462965511552?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115174462965511552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115174462965511552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174462965511552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174462965511552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115174462965511552.html' title='$9 Dollar Question'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115174451074488713</id><published>2006-07-01T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:45:03.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fiancé</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After Leslie brought home her fiancé to meet her parents, her father invited the young man into his study to find out more about him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What are your plans?" he asked Ali.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm a scholar of the Quran," Ali replied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well, that's admirable," Leslie's father replied. "But what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I will study, and God will surely provide for us," Ali explained.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And how will you buy her a nice engagement ring?""I will study hard, and God will provide for us."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And children?" asked the father. "How will you support children?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Don't worry, sir, God will provide," replied the fiancé.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The conversation continued in much the same fashion. After Ali and Leslie had left, her mother asked her father what he found out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The father answered, "Well, he has no job and no plans, but the good news is that he thinks I'm God."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115174451074488713?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115174451074488713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115174451074488713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174451074488713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174451074488713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115174451074488713.html' title='The Fiancé'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-115174429162669598</id><published>2006-07-01T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:44:38.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obliging Dentist</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dentist: "I have to pull the aching tooth, but don't worry it will take just five minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Patient: "And how much will it cost?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Dentist: "It's $90.00". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Patient: "$90.00 for just a few minutes work???"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dentist: "I can extract it very slowly if you like."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-115174429162669598?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/115174429162669598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=115174429162669598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174429162669598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/115174429162669598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post_115174429162669598.html' title='Obliging Dentist'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983628544921841</id><published>2006-06-08T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:44:12.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bubba and Junior were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up. A woman walked by and asked what they were doing. "We're supposed to find the height of the flagpole," said Bubba, "but we don't have a ladder."The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a few bolts, and laid the pole down. Then she took a tape measure from her pocket, took a measurement and announced, "Eighteen feet, six inches," and walked away.  Junior shook his head and laughed. "Ain't that just like a dumb blonde! We ask for the height, and she gives us the length!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Two bored casino dealers are waiting at the crap table. A veryattractive blonde woman arrived and bet twenty thousand dollars ($20,000) on a single roll of the dice. She said, "I hope you don't mind, but I feel much luckier when I'm completely nude."&lt;br /&gt;With that, she stripped from the neck down, rolled the dice and yelled, "Come on, baby, Mama needs new clothes!" As the dice came to a stop she jumped up and down and squealed... "YES! YES! I WON, I WON!" She hugged each of the dealers and then picked up her winnings and her clothes and quicklydeparted...&lt;br /&gt;The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded. Finally, one of them asked, "What did she roll?" The other answered, "I don't know - I thought you were watching." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART BLONDE JOKE&lt;br /&gt;A blonde walks into a bank in New York City and asks for the Loan officer. She says she's going to Europe on business for two weeks andNeeds to borrow $5,000.The bank officer says the bank will need some kind of security for the loan, so the blonde hands over the keys to a new Mercedes Benz SL 500.The car is parked on the street in front of the bank, she has the title and everything checks out. The bank agrees to accept the car collateral for the loan.The bank's president and its officers all enjoy a good laugh at the blond for using a $110,000 Benz as collateral against a $5,000 loan.An employee of the bank then proceeds to drive the Benz into the bank's underground garage and parks it there. Two weeks later, the blonde returns, repays the $5,000 and the interest, which comes to $15.41.The loan officer says, "Miss, we are very happy to have had your business, and this transaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a little puzzled. While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a multimillionaire.What puzzles us is, why would you bother to borrow $5,000?"The blonde replies, "Where else in New York City can I park my Car for two weeks for only $15.41 and expect it to be there when I return?"Finally... a smart blonde joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two blondes, and they had just came from a store.The blonde that owned the mustang had locked her keys in the car. She was trying to pick the lock when she stoped to rest for a second. When she sat down, her friend said, "Hurry up, it's starting to rain and the top's down!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so there's this blonde driving down the road in her brand new, candy-apple red, $125,000 Lamborghini. She's cruisin' about 95, radio blaring, having a great time. She comes up on this trucker who is carrying a double-wide home and is taking up both lanes. To her disliking, he is only going about 45. To get the point across that she wants to get past, she decides to tailgate him. So, she gets to within a foot of his rear bumper. The trucker looks back and sees her on his ass, and motions for her to get off of it, but to her it looks like a wave and she waves back. Since her first attempt was futile, she decided to get a little closer and begin flashing her headlights, hopefully making herself more visible in the process. Once again the trucker sees her on his ass, and this time motions for her to pull over to the side of the road.&lt;br /&gt;The trucker steps out of his vehicle with a chunk of chalk and draws a circle three feet in diameter in the middle of the road. He instructs her not to move until he tells her to. Naive as she was, she agrees to it and steps inside it.&lt;br /&gt;The trucker goes back to his truck and pulls out a 50-ounce Louisville Slugger. He walks over to the Lamborghini and beats it, and beats it, and beats it again. When he is done, all that is left is a brand new, candy-apple red, $125,000 pile of metal. Satisfied, he throws the bat in his truck and walks over to the blonde. When he gets there, to his astonishment, she is rolling around on the street laughing hysterically. He asks her, "Why are you laughing? I just beat the crap out of your car!!" She is laughing too hard to respond, but between giggles he can make out, "While you weren't looking I stepped out of the circle!" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;This guy was driving in a car with a blonde. He told her to stick her head out the window and see if the blinker worked.&lt;br /&gt;She stuck her head out and said, 'Yes, No, Yes, No, Yes...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a blonde crawls out of her wrecked car, the local sheriff asks her what happened. The blonde began, "It was the strangest thing! I looked up and saw a tree, so I swerved to the right. Then I saw another tree, so I swerved to left. Then there was another tree, and another and another ..."&lt;br /&gt;The sheriff thought for a minute and then said, "Mam ... I don't know how to tell you this, but the only thing even resembling a tree on this road for thirty miles is your air freshener."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How do you make a blonde's eyes twinkle?&lt;br /&gt;A: Shine a flashlight in their ear.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What does a blond and a beer bottle have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A: They're both empty from the neck up.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How do you get a blond out of a tree?&lt;br /&gt;A: Wave&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do peroxide blonds and black men have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A: They both have black roots.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What does a blonde owl say?&lt;br /&gt;A: What, what?&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do you get when you turn 3 blondes upside-down?&lt;br /&gt;A: Two brunettes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What's the Blonde's cheer?&lt;br /&gt;A: " I'm blonde, I'm blonde, I'm B.L.O.N....ah, oh well.. I'm blonde, I'm blonde, yea yea yea..."&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde scale the chain-link fence?&lt;br /&gt;A: To see what was on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde have tire tread marks on her back?&lt;br /&gt;A: From crawling across the street when the sign said "DON'T WALK".&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde keep a coat hanger in her back seat?&lt;br /&gt;A: In case she locks the keys in her car.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde tip-toe past the medicine cabinet?&lt;br /&gt;A: So she wouldn't wake up the sleeping pills.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the deaf blonde sit on a newspaper?&lt;br /&gt;A: So she could lip read.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde wear condoms on her ears?&lt;br /&gt;A: So she wouldn't get Hearing Aides.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde drive into the ditch?&lt;br /&gt;A: To turn the blinker off.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde try and steal a police car?&lt;br /&gt;A: She saw "911" on the back and thought it was a Porsche.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why didn't the blonde want a window seat on the plane?&lt;br /&gt;A: She'd just blow dried her hair and she didn't want it blown around too much.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde get so excited after she finished her jigsaw puzzle in only 6 months?&lt;br /&gt;A: Because on the box it said From 2-4 years.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How do you confuse a blonde?A: Ask her to alphabetize a bag of M&amp;amp;Ms.Q: Why does it work?&lt;br /&gt;A: "Does 3 come before E or does it go between M and W?"&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde call the welfare office?&lt;br /&gt;A: She wanted to know how to cook food stamps!&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is the connection between a blonde and a halogen headlamp?&lt;br /&gt;A: They both get screwed on the front of a Ford Escort.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you hear about the blond skydiver?&lt;br /&gt;A: She missed the Earth!&lt;br /&gt;Q: Where do blondes go to meet their relatives?&lt;br /&gt;A: The vegetable garden.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How many blondes does it take to play tag?&lt;br /&gt;A: One.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do you call four Blondes in a Volkswagon?&lt;br /&gt;A: Far-from-thinkin&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why don't they let Blondes swim in the ocean?&lt;br /&gt;A: Because they can't get the smell out of the tuna.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What happened to the blonde tap dancer?&lt;br /&gt;A: She slipped off and fell down the drain.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did the blonde say when she looked into a box of Cheerios?&lt;br /&gt;A: "Oh look! Donut seeds!"&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did the blonde name her pet zebra?&lt;br /&gt;A: Spot.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What's a blonds' favourite rock group?&lt;br /&gt;A: Air Supply.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Whats black and fuzzy and hangs from the ceiling?&lt;br /&gt;A: A blond electrician.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why are dumb blonde jokes so short?&lt;br /&gt;A: So brunettes can remember them.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why are blondes like cornflakes ?&lt;br /&gt;A: Because they're simple, easy and they taste good.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why can't blondes put in light bulbs?&lt;br /&gt;A: They keep breaking them with the hammers.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is a cool refreshing drink for a blonde?&lt;br /&gt;A: Perri-air&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you hear about the blonde coyote?&lt;br /&gt;A: Got stuck in a trap, chewed off three legs and was still stuck.&lt;br /&gt;Q: When is it legal to shoot a blonde in the head?&lt;br /&gt;A: When you have a tire pump to reinflate it!&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is a blonde's favorite part of a gas station?&lt;br /&gt;A: The Air Pump!&lt;br /&gt;Q. How is a dumb blonde like peanut-butter?&lt;br /&gt;A. They spread for the bread.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why do dumb blondes always drink with straws?&lt;br /&gt;A. Practice&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do blondes and beer bottles have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A. Their both empty from the neck up.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why do blondes wear underwear?&lt;br /&gt;A. To keep their ankles warm.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you call a blonde standing on her head?&lt;br /&gt;A. A brunette with bad breath. Funny blonde jokes...&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why did the deaf blonde sit on the newspaper?&lt;br /&gt;A. So she could lip read.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you call a dumb blonde behind a steering wheel?&lt;br /&gt;A. An airbag.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why did the blonde like the car with a sunroof?&lt;br /&gt;A. More leg-room!&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you call a blonde with a runny nose?&lt;br /&gt;A. FULL&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you do if a blonde throws a grenade at you?&lt;br /&gt;A. Pull the pin and throw it back. Good Dumb Blonde jokes...&lt;br /&gt;Q. How can you tell if a blonde has been using your computer?&lt;br /&gt;A. The joystick is wet.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do a mo-ped and a blond have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A. They're both fun to ride until a friend sees you on one.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What's the difference between a blonde and a solar powered calculator?&lt;br /&gt;A. The blonde works in the dark!&lt;br /&gt;Q. What does a blonde put behind her ears to make her more attractive?&lt;br /&gt;A. Her ankles.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you say to a Blonde that won't give in?&lt;br /&gt;A. "Have another beer."&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do Blondes say after sex?&lt;br /&gt;A1. Thanks Guys.&lt;br /&gt;A2. Are you boys all in the same band?&lt;br /&gt;A3. Do you guys all play for the Green Bay Packers?&lt;br /&gt;Q. How do you make a blonde's eyes twinkle?&lt;br /&gt;A. Shine a flashlight in their ear.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What does a screen door and a blonde have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A. The more you bang it the looser it gets.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do blonds and spaghetti have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A. They both wriggle when you eat them.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why was the blondes' belly button sore ?&lt;br /&gt;A. Because her boyfriend was blonde too.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why'd the blonde get fired from the M&amp;amp;M factory?&lt;br /&gt;A. She kept throwing out all the W's.&lt;br /&gt;Q. How do blond brain cells die?&lt;br /&gt;A. Alone.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Five blondes are facing execution, a rocket scientist, a historian, a bimbo, and a mathematician. They are each hit with one bullet but, only one bleeds, which one?&lt;br /&gt;A. The bimbo, you have to be real to bleed.&lt;br /&gt;Q. How do you get a blond out of a tree?&lt;br /&gt;A. Wave&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do peroxide blonds and black men have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A. They both have black roots.&lt;br /&gt;Q. What does a blonde owl say?&lt;br /&gt;A. What, what?&lt;br /&gt;Q. Did you hear about the blonde couple that were found frozen to death in their car at a drive-in movie theater?&lt;br /&gt;A. They went to see "Closed for the Winter".&lt;br /&gt;Q. What is the definition of the perfect woman?&lt;br /&gt;A. A deaf and dumb blonde nymphomaniac whose father owns a pub.&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why is a blonde like an old washing machine?&lt;br /&gt;A. They both drip when they're fucked.&lt;br /&gt;Q. How would a blond punctuate the following?. "Fun fun fun worry worry worry"&lt;br /&gt;A. Fun period fun period fun NO PERIOD worry worry worry!&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why is the blonde's brain the size of a pea in the morning?&lt;br /&gt;A. It swells at night.&lt;br /&gt;Q. A blonde is walking down the street with a pig under her arm. She passes a person who asks "Where did you get that?"&lt;br /&gt;A. The pig says, "I won her in a raffle!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-114983628544921841?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983628544921841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983628544921841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983628544921841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983628544921841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post_114983628544921841.html' title='Blonde Jokes'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983582638767206</id><published>2006-06-08T23:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:43:17.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bushes hosted their predecessors at the White House yesterday, for the official unveiling of Bill and Hillary Clinton's White House portraits. The occasion moved the current commander in chief to a rare show of gracious bi-partisanship. ... Bush then handed the mic over to Clinton. It's been a long time since this skilled orator spoke in the White House. I'm sure he's got some profound words to share ... [clip of Clinton: 'All those kind and generous things you said, made me feel like I was a pickle stepping into history.'] ... Uhhh, I don't get that at all. As a matter fact, if I remember correctly, your pickle's already stepped into history." —Jon Stewart&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"In a recent interview, John Kerry was asked to describe his wife in three words. Not surprisingly, Kerry responded, 'My meal ticket.'" —Conan O'Brien&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Former President George Bush marked his 80th birthday by jumping out of a plane. In a related story, O.J. Simpson marked the 10th anniversary of the murders by jumping out of the bushes." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Rush Limbaugh and his third wife has broken up. Apparently, she came home early and found him with their pharmacist." —Jay Leno"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Former President Bush, to celebrate his 80th birthday, jumped out of an airplane. And if you've seen the polls, you know he's not the only Bush in freefall." —David Letterman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Former President Bush parachuted with an Army Ranger holding him so he wouldn't get hurt on his 80th birthday. This is the same method they use when his son rides a bike." —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The first President Bush — the real one — celebrated his 80th birthday over the weekend, and in case you haven't heard, he went skydiving. He was strapped to the back of a secret service guy. Does it really count as a jump when you're essentially a fanny pack on some Navy SEAL? It's like calling a mouse shot into space an astronaut." —Jimmy Kimmel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"President Bush welcomed Bill and Hillary Clinton back to the White House for the unveiling of Bill's official portrait. There are two firsts involved. It's the first presidential portrait ever painted by an African-American artist. And it's the first presidential portrait to feature full-frontal nudity." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Bill Clinton's new memoir has already had orders for 1.5 million copies. In fact, it's already in its third printing. The first two were stained." —David Letterman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The State Department released a memo saying terrorism has gone down. It turns out, the only reason they came up with that information is because of a mathematical error. A mathematical error, isn't that how Bush became president?" —David Letterman"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bush administration is testing something called the Registered Travelers Program. This allows travelers to bypass the security lines and checkpoints at airports by agreeing to a fee and a background check. Boy, that's a great idea. A separate line for rich people — I'm surprised the Republicans thought of that." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Bush administration said Saudi Arabia needs to do more to help in the war on terror. Yeah, like fight on our side." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Rush Limbaugh and his wife are divorcing and experts say this could get ugly. I'm confused, are they splitting up or having sex?" —Craig Kilborn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Al Gore is back, at a recent speech, he called for the resignation of Donald Rumsfeld. And Donald Rumsfeld, in response, he stripped Gore naked and ran him around on a leash." —David Letterman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Two new polls show Arnold Schwarzenegger is the most popular Governor of California since 1991, when Governor Hasselhoff ran the state. When your competition is Pete Wilson and Gray Davis, is it really that big a deal to be most popular? It's like being the smartest Hilton sister." —Jimmy Kimmel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Our top story, in 'Threat Matrix Reloaded' news ... Attorney General John Ashcroft and FBI Director Robert Muller held a press conference today to announce that Al Qaeda is planning attacks somewhere inside the United States at sometime in the future. So go about your normal lives, but with a vague sense of foreboding." —Craig Kilborn &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Attorney General John Ashcroft said today that Al Qaeda is determined to attack the United States sometime this summer. He said the terrorists may do it to try to influence our Presidential election. So Al Qaeda is basically like Ralph Nader, only with more followers." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Ashcroft went on to say that our way of life is being threatened by a group of radical religious fanatics who are armed and dangerous. And then he called for prayers in the schools and an end to gun control." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Seven Iraqi men who had their hands cut off under Saddam Hussein were recently brought to the United States and fitted with high tech prosthetic hands. The bad news, the first thing they did with their new hands? Throw rocks at the U.S. Embassy." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Al Gore gave a blistering speech today condemning the Bush administration and calling for everyone in Bush's cabinet to resign from office immediately. Finally the owner of the karaoke bar said, 'Are you going to sing or what?'" —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"He also said that Iraq will have two vice presidents. See that's when you know that they don't expect the president to last that long — when they have a back up guy for the back up guy." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The president was surprisingly nonchalant about the problems facing Iraq — at one point even muttering, 'What do I care this is all going to be Kerry's problem anyway.'" —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"If Bush really wants to prove what a great job he's doing over there, he should just walk around Baghdad shouting, 'You're welcome everyone.'" —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The White House announced the notorious Abu Ghraib prison will be torn down, demolished and done away with. But don't worry, we'll always have our memories, and of course the photographs." —Jay Leno &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"'Shrek 2' made over $120 million during its first week. In a related story, John Kerry asked Shrek to marry him." —Conan O'Brien&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Bush fell off his bike while mountain biking on his ranch over the weekend. He hit a rough spot in the trail. There's a switch — the environment hurting Bush." —Jay Leno &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"President Bush fell off his mountain bike down on his ranch in Texas. A couple weeks ago, John Kerry fell off his bicycle. See, doesn't this make you miss President Clinton? That guy, he could ride anything without falling off." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"President Bush fell off his bicycle this weekend and you know what was really sad? It's a stationary bike." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"You know what really makes this embarrassing? The other day the president said the leaders in Iraq are 'ready to take off the training wheels.' That's what he said, 'take off the training wheels.' Then he goes out and falls off his bicycle. And they wonder why the rest of the world doesn't take us seriously." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"A White House spokesmen said he fell because it's been raining a lot and the top soil is loose. We went ahead and looked up the rain for real in Crawford, Texas. May 15th, 0.0 inches of rain. May 16th, 0.0 inches of rain. 17th no rain. 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, and 23rd no rain. First he chokes on a pretzel; now he fell off his bike. Mr. President, when are you going to admit that Laura is abusing you? There is no shame in being a battered husband." —Jimmy Kimmel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"President Bush fell off of his bike, wound up with cuts and bruises on his chin, his nose and on his upper lip — or as the secret service call it, Condition Hillary." —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"With Iraq plunging into chaos and gas prices at record highs President Bush took time out this weekend for a ride on his bicycle, but unfortunately he fell off and sustained cuts to his face and hands. Apparently Bush was distracted by the enormous responsibilities of the presidency. I'm just kidding. He hit some gravel or something." —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Our president fell off of his bike and today declared war on gravity." —Craig Kilborn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Senator Bill Frist's son, William Frist Jr., who is a student at Princeton, was arrested this week in New Jersey for drunk driving. A very serious charge. So let's see, he's got the same name as his father, who is a powerful Republican leader, went to an Ivy league school, got arrested for drunk driving. You know what that means? He could go on to become president of the United States." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"According to USA Today, President Bush once worked at Sears in the sporting goods department. I believe he worked there for one four year term." —Jay Leno&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"John Kerry and Ralph Nader met face-to-face, it was a historic meeting. Astronomers said today their meeting actually created what is called a 'charisma black hole.'" —Jay Leno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"Gas prices are up, the stock market is down, Iraq is a mess and John Kerry is saying, 'How am I gonna beat this guy?" —David Letterman"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Bill Clinton has a brand new book coming out in a few months and the Democrats are worried that the Clinton book might upstage the Kerry campaign. I'm thinking, hell, day-old meat loaf could upstage that campaign." —David Letterman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"The campaign for the White House is heating up with John Kerry taking heat for throwing his Vietnam medals away, getting a $1000 haircut, and wearing a 1970s wig known as 'the Leno.' There are really two sides to this story. And America can't wait for Kerry to present both of them." —David Letterman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"President Bush said John Kerry is on both sides of every issue. And Kerry replied, 'No, I'm not ... but there is some truth to that.' " —Craig Kilborn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"The prisoner scandal is yet another election year problem for President Bush. And, with the economy still struggling, combat operations in Iraq dragging on, and the 9-11 hearings revealing damning information, even an opponent of limited political skill should be able to capitalize on those problems. The Democrats, however, chose to nominate John Kerry." —Jon Stewart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"This is so weird. I saw the new John Kerry campaign commercial and he says, 'I'm John Kerry and I approve of this message — if I have one.'" —Craig Kilborn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"Insiders have begun voicing serious concerns about how he's conducting his campaign. One aide told the New York Times that while Bush's message of 'steady leadership' has remained consistent, Kerry has gone through six different messages in the 18 months he's been running, including, at one particularly desperate juncture, 'Kerry: Health care jobs for the troops' environment.'" —Jon Stewart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"John Kerry spent the day reading to preschoolers ... and the kids said Kerry actually lacked warmth and failed to articulate a clear message." —David Letterman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"Lot of people wondering if John Kerry supports gay marriages. Here's a hint ... he gets $1,000 haircuts." —Craig Kilborn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;"Courtney Love said she once escorted Kerry to a concert. John Kerry once went out with Courtney Love and he's questioning Bush's judgment." —Jay Leno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-114983582638767206?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983582638767206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983582638767206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983582638767206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983582638767206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post_08.html' title='Random Jokes'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983547679555629</id><published>2006-06-08T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:42:18.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A couple were in their bedroom and the girl says to her boyfriend, 'I wish I had bigger tits'. The boyfriend says 'well what I recommend is to get some toilet tissue and rub it between your tits for 2 months'. 'How will that help to make my tits bigger?' asks the girlfriend.'Well it worked for your ass' says the boyfriend.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A lecturer teaching medicine was giving a classoom observation. He took out a jar of yellow liquid. "This," he explained, "is urine. To be a doctor, you have to be observant of color, smell, sight, and taste." After saying so, he dipped his finger into the jar and put it into his mouth. His class watched in amazement, most in disgust. But beingthe good students that they were, the jar was passed, and one by one, they dipped their finger into the jar and put it into their mouths. After the last student was done, the lecturer shook his head. "If any of you had been observant, you would have noticed that I put my second finger into the jar and my third finger into my mouth."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two old people, a man and a woman, walk into a hospital. The doctor says to the old man, "I'll need a urine sample, a feces sample, and a blood sample." The old man says, "What?" So the doctor says it again. Once again the old man says, "what?" So the doctor yells it, "I NEED A URINE SAMPLE, A FECES SAMPLE, AND A BLOOD SAMPLE!" With that the old woman turns to the old man and says, "He needs a pair of your underwear!"&lt;br /&gt;There was this woman who had bags under her eyes and wanted to get them removed so she could look younger so she went to a plastic surgeon. She tells the doctor I cant get rid of these bags please help me. The doctor says he is gonna try and new experimental technique on her. He will put a crank in the back of her head and when she sees bags under her eyes she's supposed to crank it and the bags will go away. So she gets this crank put in her head and leaves. It works and works for a while until one day she cant get rid of these bags under her eyes. She cranks and cranks as hard as she can but they just wont go away. So she goes to the doctor. She says to the doctor: "Doctor, this was working for a while, but I cant seem to get rid of these bags under my eyes." The doctor replies: "Lady those aren't bags... those are your tits!" All she had to say was, "Now that would explain why I have this goatee."&lt;br /&gt;A guy is walking past a bus stop and says to a woman "Can I smell your cunt?" "Fuck off, no you can't smell my cunt!" the woman yells back at him, "Oh" he replies, looking slightly confused, "it must be your feet then".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A couple were married and, following the wedding, the husband laid down some rules. "I'll be home when I want, if I want, and at what time I want," he insisted. "And, I don't expect any hassle from you. Also, I expect a decent meal to be on the table every evening, unless I tell you otherwise. I'll go hunting, fishing, boozing, and card-playing with my buddies whenever I want. Those are my rules," he said. "Any comments?" His new bride replied, "No, that's fine with me. But, just understand that there'll be sex here at seven o'clock every night... whether you're here or not."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two married buddies are out drinking one night when one turns to the other and says, "You know, I don't know what else to do. Whenever I go home after we've been out drinking, I turn the headlights off before I get to the driveway. I shut off the engine and coast into the garage. I take my shoes off before I go into the house, I sneak up the stairs, I get undressed in the bathroom. I ease into bed and my wife STILL wakes up and yells at me for staying out so late!"His buddy looks at him and says, "Well, you're obviously taking the wrong approach. I screech into the driveway, slam the door, storm up the steps, throw my shoes into the closet, jump into bed, rub my hands on my wife's ass and say, 'How about a blowjob?' ... and she's always sound asleep."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It got crowded in heaven, so, for one day it was decided only to accept people who had really had a bad day on the day they died. St. Peter was standing at the pearly gates and said to the first man, "Tell me about the day you died." The man said, "Oh, it was awful. I was sure my wife was having an affair, so I came home early to catch her with him. I searched all over the apartment but couldn't find him anywhere. So I went out onto the balcony, we live on the 25th floor, and found this man hanging over the edge by his fingertips. I went inside, got a hammer, and started hitting his hands. He fell, but landed in some bushes. So, I got the refrigerator and pushed it over the balcony and it crushed him. The strain of the act gave me a heart attack, and I died." St. Peter couldn't deny that this was a pretty bad day, and since it was a crime of passion, he let the man in. He then asked the next man in line about the day he died. "Well, sir, it was awful," said the second man. "I was doing aerobics on the balcony of my 26th floor apartment when I twisted my ankle and slipped over the edge. I managed to grab the balcony of the apartment below, but some maniac came out and started pounding on my fingers with a hammer. Luckily I landed in some bushes. But, then the guy dropped a refrigerator on me!" St. Peter chuckled, let him into heaven and decided he could really start to enjoy this job. "Tell me about the day you died?", he said to the third man in line. "OK, picture this, I'm naked, hiding inside a refrigerator...."&lt;br /&gt;One day in class the teacher brought a bag full of fruit. "Now class, I'm going to reach into the bag and describe a piece of fruit, and you tell what fruit I'm talking about. Okay, first: it's round, plumb and red." Of course, Johnny raised his hand high, but the teacher, wisely ignored him and picked Deborah, who promptly answered "An apple." The teacher replied, "No Deborah, it's a beet, but I like your thinking." Now for the second. It's soft, fuzzy, and colored red and brownish." Well, Johnny is hopping up and down in his seat trying to get the teacher to call on him. But she skips him again and calls on Billy. "Is it a peach?" Billy asks. "No, Billy, I'm afraid it's a potato. But I like your thinking," the teacher replies. Here's another: it's long, yellow, and fairly hard." By now Johnny is about to explode as he waves his hand frantically. The teacher skips him again and calls on Sally. "A banana," she says. "No," the teacher replies, "it's a squash, but I like your thinking." Johnny is kind of irritated now, so he speaks up loudly. "Hey, I've got one for you teacher; let me put my hand in my pocket. Okay, I've got it: it's round, hard, and it got a head on it." "Johnny!" she cries. "That's disgusting!" "Nope," answers Johnny, "it's a quarter, but I like your thinking!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;One day a young man and woman were in their bedroom making love. All of a sudden a bumble bee entered the bedroom window. As the young lady parted her legs the bee entered her vagina. The woman started screaming, "Oh my god, help me, there's a bee in my vagina!". The husband immediately took her to the local doctor and explained the situation. The doctor thought for a moment and said, "Hmm, tricky situation. But I have a solution to the problem if young sir would permit". The husband being very concerned agreed that the doctor could use whatever method to get the bee out of his wife's vagina. The doctor said "OK, what I'm gonna do is rub some honey over the top of my penis and insert it into your wife's vagina. When I feel the bee getting closer to the tip of my dick I shall withdraw it and the bee should hopefully follow my penis out of your wife's vagina." The husband nodded and gave his approval. The young lady said "Yes, yes, whatever, just get on with it." So the doctor, after covering the tip of his penis with honey, inserted it into the young lady's vagina. After a few gentle strokes, the doctor said, "I don't think the bee has noticed the honey yet. Perhaps I should go a bit deeper". So the doctor went deeper and deeper. After a while the doctor began shafting the young lady very hard indeed. The young lady began to quiver with excitement, she began to moan and groan aloud, "Oh doctor, doctor!" she shouted. The doctor, concentrating very hard, looked like he was enjoying himself. He then put his hands on the young lady's breasts and started making loud noises. The husband, at this point, suddenly became very annoyed and shouted. "Now wait a minute, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he blasted. The doctor, still concentrating, replied: "Change of plan, I'm gonna drown the bastard!!"&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/29420538-114983547679555629?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983547679555629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983547679555629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983547679555629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983547679555629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post_114983547679555629.html' title='Dirty Jokes'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983534419616875</id><published>2006-06-08T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:41:44.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SMART A** ANSWERS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Smart Answer #5: A flight attendant was stationed at the departure gate to check tickets. As a man approached, she extended her hand for the ticket and he opened his trench coat and flashed her. Without missing a beat she said, "Sir, I need to see your ticket not your stub."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Answer #4: A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but she couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, "Do these turkeys get any bigger?" The stock boy replied, "No ma'am, they're dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Answer #3: The cop got out of his car and the kid who was stopped for speeding rolled down his window. "I've been waiting for you all day," the cop said. The kid replied, "Yeah, well I got here as fast as I could." When the cop finally stopped laughing, he sent the kid on his way without a ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Answer #2: A truck driver was driving along the freeway. A sign comes up that reads, "Low Bridge Ahead." Before he knows it, the bridge is right ahead of him and he gets stuck under the bridge. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally, a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walks to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, "Got stuck, huh?" The truck driver says, "No, I was delivering this bridge and ran out of gas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Smart Answer #1:&lt;br /&gt;A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrow's final exam. "Now class, I won't tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury or illness, or a death in your immediate family, but that's it, no other excuses whatsoever!" A smart ass guy in the back of the room raised his hand and asked, "What would you say if tomorrow I said I was suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?" The entire class is reduced to laughter and snickering. When silence is restored, the teacher smiles knowingly at the student, shakes her head and sweetly says "Well, I guess you'd have to write the exam with your other hand."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-114983534419616875?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983534419616875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983534419616875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983534419616875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983534419616875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post_114983534419616875.html' title='SMART A** ANSWERS'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983516255967372</id><published>2006-06-08T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:41:11.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'>50 fun things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For professors to do on the first day of class...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.Wear a hood with one eye hole. Periodically make strange gurgling noises.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.After confirming everyone's names on the roll, thank the class for attending "Advanced Astrodynamics 690" and mention that yesterday was the last day to drop.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.After turning on the overhead projector, clutch your chest and scream "MY PACEMAKER!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.wear a pointed Kaiser helmet and a monocle and carry a riding crop.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.Gradually speak softer and softer and then suddenly point to a student and scream "YOU! WHAT DID I JUST SAY?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.Deliver your lecture through a hand puppet. If a student asks you a question directly, say in a high-pitched voice, "The Professor can't hear you, you'll have to ask 'me', Winky Willy."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.If someone asks a question, walk silently over to their seat, hand them your piece of chalk, and ask, "Would YOU like to give the lecture, Mr. Smartypants?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8.Pick out random students, ask them questions, and time their responses with a stop watch. Record their times in you grade book while muttering "tsk, tsk."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9.Ask students to call you "Tinkerbell" or "Surfin' Bird."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10.Stop in mid-lecture, frown for a moment, and then ask the class whether your butt looks fat.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11.Play "Kumbaya" on the banjo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12.Show a video on medieval torture implements to your calculus class. Giggle throughout it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13.Announce "you'll need this," and write the suicide prevention hotline number on the board.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14.Wear mirrored sunglasses and speak only in Turkish. Ignore all questions.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15.Start the lecture by dancing and lip-synching to James Brown's "Sex Machine."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16.Ask occasional questions, but mutter "as if you gibbering simps would know" and move on before anyone can answer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17.Ask the class to read Jenkins through Johnson of the local phone book by the next lecture. Vaguely imply that there will be a quiz.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18.Have one of your graduate students sprinkle flower petals ahead of you as you pace back and forth.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19.Address students as "worm."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20.Announce to students that their entire grades will be based on a single-question oral final exam. Imply that this could happen at any moment.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21.Turn off the lights, play a tape of crickets chirping, and begin singing spirituals.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22.Ask for a volunteer for a demonstration. Ask them to fill out a waiver as you put on a lead apron and light a blowtorch.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23.Point the overhead projector at the class. Demand each student's name, rank, and serial number.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24.Begin class by smashing the neck off a bottle of vodka, and announce that the lecture's over when the bottle's done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25.Have a band waiting in the corner of the room. When anyone asks a question, have the band start playing and sing an Elvis song.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26.Every so often, freeze in mid sentence and stare off into space for several minutes. After a long, awkward silence, resume your sentence and proceed normally.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27.Wear a "virtual reality" helmet and strange gloves. When someone asks a question, turn in their direction and make throttling motions with your hands.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28.Mention in passing that you're wearing rubber underwear.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29.Growl constantly and address students as "matey."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30.Devote your math lecture to free verse about your favorite numbers and ask students to "sit back and groove."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31.Announce that last year's students have almost finished their class projects.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32.Inform your English class that they need to know Fortran and code all their essays. Deliver a lecture on output format statements.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33.Bring a small dog to class. Tell the class he's named "Boogers McGee" and is your "mascot." Whenever someone asks a question, walk over to the dog and ask it, "What'll be, McGee?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34.Wear a feather boa and ask students to call you "Snuggles."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35.Tell your math students that they must do all their work in a base 11 number system. use a complicated symbol you've named after yourself in place of the number 10 and threaten to fail students who don't use it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;36.Claim to be a chicken. Squat, cluck, and produce eggs at irregular intervals.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;37.Bring a CPR dummy to class and announce that it will be the teaching assistant for the semester. Assign it an office and office hours.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38.Have a grad student in a black beret pluck at the bass while you lecture.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39.Sprint from the room in a panic if you hear sirens outside.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40.Give an opening monologue. Take two minute "commercial breaks" every ten minutes.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41.Tell students that you'll fail them if they cheat on exams or "fake the funk."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42.Announce that you need to deliver two lectures that day, and deliver them in rapid-fire auctioneer style.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;43.Pass out dental floss to students floss to students and devote the lecture to oral hygiene.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;44.Announce that the entire 32-volume Encyclopedia Britannica will be required reading for you class. Assign a report on Volume 1, Aardvark through Armenia, for next class.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45.Ask students to list their favorite show tunes on a sign-up sheet. Criticize their choices and make notes in you grade book.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;46.Sneeze on students in the front row and wipe your nose on your tie.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;47.Warn students that they should being a snack lunch to exams.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;48.Refer frequently to students who died while taking your class.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;49.Show up to lecture in a ventilated clean suit. Advise students to keep their distance for their own safety and mutter something about "that bug I picked up in the field."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;50.Jog into class, rip the textbook in half, and scream, "Are you pumped? ARE YOU PUMPED? I CAN'T HEEEEEAR YOU!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29420538-114983516255967372?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983516255967372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983516255967372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983516255967372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983516255967372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post_114983516255967372.html' title='50 fun things'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114983491768590577</id><published>2006-06-08T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:40:25.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Think a gallon of gas is expensive?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This makes you think, and also puts things in perspective. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lipton Ice Tea 16 oz $1.19 ...........$9.52 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Ocean Spray 16 oz $1.25 .......... $10.00 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Gatorade 20 oz $1.59 ..... $10.17 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Diet Snapple 16 oz $1.29 .......... $10.32 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Evian water9 oz $1.49..........$21.19 per gallon?&lt;br /&gt;Whiteout 7 oz $1.39 ........ . $25.42 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Brake Fluid 12 oz $3.15 ........... $33.60 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Scope 1.5 oz $0.99 ........$84.48 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Pepto Bismol 4 oz $3.85 ........ $123.20 per gallon&lt;br /&gt;Vick's Nyquil 6 oz $8.35 .... $178.13 per gallon&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/29420538-114983491768590577?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114983491768590577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114983491768590577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983491768590577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114983491768590577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/think-gallon-of-gas-is-expensive-this.html' title='Think a gallon of gas is expensive?'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29420538.post-114975080712818382</id><published>2006-06-08T00:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:40:03.239-08:00</updated><title type='text'>F u n n y  B u m p e r  S t i c k e r s</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1) Touch me and i will spit&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) I Work Hard Because Millions &lt;span class="grame"&gt;On&lt;/span&gt; Welfare Depend on Me&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) I used to have a handle on life, but it broke. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6) Don't take life too seriously. You won't get out alive. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7) WANTED: Meaningful overnight relationship. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8) You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9) BEER: It's not just for breakfast anymore.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10) I got a gun for my wife. Best trade I ever made. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11) So you're a feminist...Isn't that cute? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12) Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13) Earth is the insane asylum for the universe. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14) To all you virgins, thanks for nothing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15) I'm not a complete idiot, some parts are missing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16) My kid had sex with your honor student. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17) Earth first...we'll mind the other planets later&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18) I'm just driving this way to piss you off. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19) Out of my mind. &lt;span class="grame"&gt;Back in five minutes.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20) As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21) I don't have to be dead to donate my organ. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22) I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather...not screaming &lt;span class="grame"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; yelling like the passengers in his car. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23) God must love stupid people, he made so many. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24) The gene pool could use a little chlorine. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25) Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26) It IS as BAD as you think, and they ARE out to get you. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27) I took an IQ test and the results were negative. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28) It's lonely at the top, but you eat better. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29) Give me ambiguity or give me something else. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30) I know what you're thinking, and you should be ashamed of yourself. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31) Elvis is dead, and I'm not feeling too good myself.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32) Always remember you're unique, just like everyone else. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33) Very funny, Scotty. Now beam up my clothes. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34) Consciousness: that annoying time between naps&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35) Ever stop to think, and forget to start again? &lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;36) CAT----- The Other White Meat&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;37) Beer----- The Reason I Get Up Each Afternoon&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38) I Must Be a Proctologist Because I Work With Assholes&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39) I'm Out Of Bed &lt;span class="grame"&gt;And&lt;/span&gt; Dressed-----What More Do You Want? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40) Remember My Name------You'll Be Screaming It Later&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41) Welcome To Shit Creek-----Sorry, We're &lt;span class="grame"&gt;Out&lt;/span&gt; of Paddles&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42) If You Think I'm A Bitch, Wait &lt;span class="grame"&gt;Until&lt;/span&gt; You Meet My Mother&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;43) Jesus loves you. Everybody else thinks you're an asshole&lt;/strong&gt;&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/29420538-114975080712818382?l=funnyfinger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/114975080712818382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29420538&amp;postID=114975080712818382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114975080712818382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29420538/posts/default/114975080712818382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funnyfinger.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post.html' title='F u n n y  B u m p e r  S t i c k e r s'/><author><name>PJ</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7412/2515/1600/puppie.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
