Sunday, September 13, 2009

this week's guffaws

What's say I actually get a post up this week, huh? Why don't I go through my guffaws file and do some dumping on this lovely Sunday? In no particular order, here's what's been sitting around in my files for your enjoyment...


THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes ..

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids, keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time--no emailing.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment
and a haircut appointment...

He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.

The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name,
favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if
he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right to be called Mother!


Moving on...



A cowboy named Bud was overseeing his herd in a remote mountainous pasture in California when suddenly a brand-new RED BMW advanced toward him out of a cloud of dust.

The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, RayBan sunglasses and YSL tie, leaned out the window and asked the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?"

Bud looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully
grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?"

The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.

The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg , Germany .

Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses an MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.

Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech,
miniaturized HP LaserJet printer, turns to the cowboy and says, "You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."

"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says Bud.

He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on with
amusement as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.

Then Bud says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?"

The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"

"You're a Congressman for the U.S. Government", says Bud..

"Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"

"No guessing required.." answered the cowboy. "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You used millions of dollars worth of equipment trying to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know a thing about how working people make a living - or about cows, for that matter. This is a herd of sheep. . ."

"Now give me back my dog."



And another...


A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.

'House' for instance, is feminine: 'la casa.' 'Pencil,' however, is masculine: 'el lapiz.'

A student asked, 'What gender is 'computer'?'

Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decide for themselves whether 'computer' should be a masculine or a feminine noun. Each group was asked to give four reasons for its recommendation.

The men's group decided that 'computer' should definitely be of the feminine gender ('la computadora'), because:

1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic.

2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else.

3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later retrieval.

4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.



The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be Masculine ('el computador'), because:

1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on.

2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves.

3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE the problem.

4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.


The women won.



This next one came my way from my mom. Yeah, I was surprised, too.


PANTS AND PANTIES

Mike was going to be married to Karen so his father sat him down for a little chat.

He said, "Mike, let me tell you something. On my wedding night in our honeymoon suite, I took off my pants, handed them to your mother, and said, 'Here, try these on.'

She did and said, 'These are too big. I can't wear them.'

I replied, 'Exactly. I wear the pants in this family and I always will.'

Ever since that night, we have never had any problems."


"Hmmm," said Mike. He thought that might be a good thing to try.


On his honeymoon, Mike took off his pants and said to Karen, "Here, try these on."

She tried them on and said, "These are too large. They don't fit me."

Mike said, "Exactly. I wear the pants in this family and I always will. I don't want you to ever forget that."


Then Karen took off her panties and handed them to Mike. She said, "Here, you try on mine."

Mike did and said, "I can't get into your panties."

Karen said, "Exactly. And if you don't change your smart-ass attitude, you never will."


And we'll end on this note...


WOMEN'S YEARLY EXAM


I went to the doctor for my yearly physical.

The nurse started with certain basics.

"How much do you weigh?" she asks.

"135," I say. The nurse puts me on the scale. It turns out my weight is 180.

The nurse asks, "Your height?"

"5 feet 4 inches," I say. The nurse checks and sees that I only measure 5'2".

She then takes my blood pressure and tells me it is very high.

"Of course it's high!" I scream, "When I came in here I was tall and slender! Now I'm short and fat!"

She put me on Prozac. What a bitch.


Hoping you got a giggle or two,