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I was lying in bed contemplating my belly button.
 WHAT a great place to keep the salt when you're having fish and fries in bed.  
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Topic:
Underwears . . . . .
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When they're brown is definitely the time to change.
 
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Topic:
Underwears . . . . .
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What about the days you don't wear underwear.  MY type of lady.  
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Whether you are a mum who cooks for many, a bachelor who cooks on rare occasions for himself, or a new college student who for the first time has his or her own refrigerator -- you will eventually all open the fridge one day and say to yourself,
"Can I eat this or will it kill me?" Well here are some guidelines to help you get through the crisis, so you will know what to eat and what to toss. THE GAG TEST Anything that makes you gag is spoiled (except for leftovers from what you cooked for yourself last night). EGGS When something starts pecking its way out of the shell, the egg is probably past its prime. DAIRY PRODUCTS Milk is spoiled when it starts to look like yogurt. Yogurt is spoiled when it starts to look like cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is spoiled when it starts to look like regular cheese. Regular cheese is nothing but spoiled milk anyway and can't get any more spoiled than it is already. Cheddar cheese is spoiled when you think it is blue cheese but you realize you've never purchased that kind. MAYONNAISE If it makes you violently ill after you eat it, the mayonnaise is spoiled. FROZEN FOODS Frozen foods that have become an integral part of the defrosting problem in your freezer compartment will probably be spoiled (or wrecked anyway) by the time you pry them out with a kitchen knife. EXPIRATION DATES This is NOT a marketing ploy to encourage you to throw away perfectly good food so that you'll spend more on groceries. Perhaps you'd benefit by having a calendar in your kitchen. MEAT If opening the refrigerator door causes stray animals from a three-block radius to congregate outside your house, the meat is spoiled. BREAD Sesame seeds and Poppy seeds are the only officially acceptable "spots" that should be seen on the surface of any loaf of bread. Fuzzy and hairy looking white or green growth areas are a good indication that your bread has turned into a pharmaceutical laboratory experiment. FLOUR Flour is spoiled when it wiggles. LETTUCE Bibb lettuce is spoiled when you can't get it off the bottom of the vegetable crisper without Comet. Romaine lettuce is spoiled when it turns liquid. (We didn't think you needed guidance with this one) CANNED GOODS Any canned goods that have become the size or shape of a softball should be disposed of. Carefully. CARROTS A carrot that you can tie a clove hitch in is not fresh. RAISINS Raisins should not be harder than your teeth. POTATOES If it looks like it is ready for planting, toss it. CHIP DIP If you can take it out of its container and bounce it on the floor, it has gone bad. EMPTY CONTAINERS Putting empty containers back into the refrigerator is an old trick, but it only works if you live with someone or have a maid. UNMARKED ITEMS You know it is well beyond prime when you're tempted to discard the Tupperware along with the food. Generally speaking, Tupperware containers should not burp when you open them. GENERAL RULE OF THUMB Most food cannot be kept longer than the average life span of a hamster. Keep a hamster in or nearby your refrigerator to gauge this.
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Topic:
Computer Problem.
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I think my computer is screwed up!!!!!!
ʎɐqǝ uo pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ʎnq ı ǝɯıʇ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ.
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Topic:
Why......
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Why do women rub their eyes in the morning when they wake up?
Because they don't have a pair of balls to scratch
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A rather chubby fellow was reading the paper one-day,lamenting the fact that his doctor has ordered him to lose 75 pounds.
Next thing he sees is an advertisement for a "Guaranteed" weight loss program. "Guaranteed my arse!", he thinks to himself, "but let's see what they think they can do". He calls them on the phone and subscribes to the 3 day, 10 pound weight loss program. The next day there comes a knock at his door, and when he answers, there stands before him a voluptuous, athletic 19-year-old babe dressed in nothing but a pair of running shoes and a sign hanging around her neck. She introduces herself as a representative of the weight loss company. The sign reads, "If you can catch me, you can have me." Well, without a second thought, he takes off after her. A few miles later, huffing and puffing, he finally catches her and has his wicked way with her. After they are through, he thinks to himself with a nod, "I like the way this company does business." For the next two days, the same girl shows up, and the same thing happens each time. On the fourth day, he weighs himself, and sure enough he has lost 10 pounds. Deciding that he likes his somewhat slender physique, not to mention the method of "treatment", he calls the company back and subscribes to their 5 day, 20 pound weight loss program. He thinks that losing 20 pounds in only 5 days seems like a lot, but he is intrigued by what their "work-out" schedule might be like this time. As expected, the next day there comes a knock at his door. When he answers it, there stands a 22-year-old drop-dead gorgeous female, dressed in nothing but a pair of Reebok's and a sign around her neck. She is simply stunning, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She introduces herself as a representative of the weight loss company. The sign reads "If you can catch me, you can have me." He's out the door like a shot. This girl is in excellent shape, and it takes him a while to catch her, but when he does, it is worth every cramp and wheeze. He is really looking forward to the next four days.... For the next four days, the same girl shows up and the same thing happens each time, much to his delight. On the sixth day, he weighs himself and, unbelievably, he has lost another 20 pounds. "I love this company," he thinks to himself, "I never knew losing weight could be so easy and so much fun!" Feeling much better about himself, he decides to go for broke and subscribe to the company's 7 day, 50 pound weight loss program. "Are you sure, sir?" asks the representative on the phone. "This is our most rigorous program." "Absolutely," says he, "I love your program. I haven't felt this good in years." The next day there comes a knock at his door and he enthusiastically answers it. There stands before him a 200-pound perfect specimen of a man dressed in nothing but racing spikes, nipple clamps and a sign around his neck. The sign reads, "If I catch you, your sweet arse is mine!"
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Topic:
Once Upon a Time.
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Once upon a time, a beautiful princess happened upon a frog in a pond.
The frog said to the princess, "I was once a handsome prince until an evil witch put a spell on me. One kiss from you and I will turn back into a prince and then we can marry, move into the castle with my mom where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children and forever feel lucky for doing so." That night as the princess dined sumptiously on sautéed frogs legs in a rich garlic cream sauce, she said to herself, "I don't fückin' think so!"
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Topic:
Elderly British Gentleman
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An elderly British gentleman of 83 arrived in Paris by plane.
At the French immigration desk, the man took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry-on bag. "You have been to France before, Monsieur?" the Immigration officer asked, sarcastically. The elderly gentleman admitted he had been to France previously. "Then you should know well enough to have your passport ready." The British gentleman says, "The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it." "Impossible. The British always have to show their passports on arrival in France!" The elderly gentleman gave the French Immigration Officer a long hard look. Then he quietly explained; "Well, the last time I was here, I came ashore on Juno Beach on D-Day in June 1944, and I couldn't find any fücking Frenchmen to show it to."
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Topic:
The Drunk and Arthritis
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A drunk man who reeked of beer sat down on a subway 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?' The priest replies, 'My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man,! sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath.' The drunk muttered in response, 'Well, I'll be damned,' Then returned to his paper. The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologised. 'I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?' The drunk answered, 'I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.'
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Topic:
A bit long but worth it
Edited by
uk1971
on
Sun 07/03/11 03:59 AM
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A bit long, but well worth it
A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo- Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... Entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good dump, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a crap. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my *** was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move." For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain. "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones *** toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of **** at the exact same second that ones butt is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a ballet dancer. I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over **** no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ***. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since sh1tting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my butt exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of **** the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ***. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The **** wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the **** wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high- pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of **** remaining on about one third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit... While all the sh1tting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in crap that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid crap. All while thick **** was spread all over my *** in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no f*cking toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left. The manager then came back in with a half dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way. When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door. The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
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Topic:
Late Night Newsflash
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Woman found dead in bathtub filled with cornflakes & milk, a banana stuck in her private parts and a spoon up her rectum.
Police suspect a Cereal Killer.
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Topic:
Mammogram Slam
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While conducting some business at the Court House, I overheard a lady, who had been arrested for assaulting a Mammogram Technician, say,
"Your Honor, I'm guilty but.....there were extenuating circumstances." The female Judge said, sarcastically, "I'd certainly like to hear those extenuating circumstances." I did too so, I listened as the lady told her story. "Your Honour, I had a mammogram appointment, which I actually kept. I was met by this perky little clipboard carrier smiling from ear to ear and she tilted her head to one side and crooned, "Hi! I'm Belinda! All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, then slip on this gown. Everything clear?" I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This ain't rocket science." Belinda then skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors. With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?" "Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck to finish me off? My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other breast wedged between those two 4 inch pieces of square glass) when I heard and felt a zap! Complete darkness, the power was off! Belinda said, Uh-oh, maintenance is working, bet they hit a snag." Then she headed for the door. "Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone are you?" I shouted. Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy...the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be right back." Before I could shout "NOOOO!" She disappeared. And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, 'maintenance men Extraordinaire' found me... Half-naked with part of me dangling from the Jaws of Life and the other part smashed between glass! After exchanging a polite "Hi, how's it going," type greeting, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off. Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as possible, "Uh, yes, I did but thanks anyway." "OK, you take care now" Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though I'd been standing in the line at the grocery store. Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin. Making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, "Oh I am sooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?" And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps...." The judge could hardly contain her laughter as she said "Case Dismissed!"
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Topic:
Sensitivity
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The room was full of pregnant women with their partners. The class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly and was telling the men how to give the necessary assurance to their partners at this stage of the pregnancy.
She said "Ladies, remember that exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier; just make several stops and stay on a soft surface like grass or a path." She looked at the men in the room, "and Gentlemen, remember -- You're in this together--It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with her". The room suddenly got very quiet as the men absorbed this information. Then a man at the back of the room slowly raised his hand. "Yes", answered the Instructor. "I was just wondering if it would be all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?" This kind of sensitivity just can't be taught!!
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Topic:
Golfing Gorilla
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There were two men who played golf together frequently.
One was several strokes better than the other. The lesser player was very proud, and never wanted to take any strokes to even up the game. One Saturday morning, he shows up with a gorilla at the first tee. He says to his friend, "I've been trying to beat you for so long that I'm about ready to give up. But, I heard about this golfing gorilla, and I was wondering if it would be alright if he plays for me today? In fact if you're game, I'd like to try to get back all the money I've lost to you this year. I figure comes to about a thousand bucks. Are you willing?" The other guy thought about it for a minute, and then decided to play the gorilla. "After all, how good could a gorilla be at golf?" he thought. Well, the first hole was a straightaway par 4 of 450 yards. The guy hits a beautiful tee shot, 275 yards down the middle, leaving himself a 6 iron to the green. The gorilla takes a few powerful practice swings and then laces the ball 450 yards, right at the pin, stopping about 6 inches away from the hole. The guy turns to his friend and says "That's incredible, I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. But, you know what, I've seen enough. I've got no interest in being totally humiliated by this gorilla golfing machine. You send this frigging gorilla back to where he comes from. I need a drink; better make it a double, and I'll write you a check." After handing over the check, and well into his second double the guy asks, "By the way, how's that gorilla's putting?" The other guy replies, "Same as his driving." "That good, huh?" "No, I mean, he hits putts the same way - 450 yards, right down the middle!"
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"Lesbian. Lesbian Lesbian???????"
Contemplatedly Asked my neighbours ex. (Blonde by the way)  "Is that a native of Lesbia? And if so is it a European annex state?"
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Topic:
Intestinal Gasses
Edited by
uk1971
on
Wed 06/29/11 05:26 AM
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"In retrospect, lighting the match was my big mistake.
But I was only trying to retrieve the gerbil," Eric Tomaszewski told bemused doctors in the Severe Burns Unit of Salt Lake City Hospital. Tomaszewski, and his homosexual partner Andrew "Kiki" Farnum, had been admitted for emergency treatment after a felching session had gone seriously wrong. "I pushed a cardboard tube up his rectum and slipped Raggot, our gerbil, in," he explained. "As usual, Kiki shouted out "Armageddon", my cue that he'd had enough. I tried to retrieve Raggot but he wouldn't come out again, so I peered into the tube and struck a match, thinking the light might attract him." At a hushed press conference, a hospital spokesman described what happened next. "The match ignited a pocket of intestinal gas and a flame shot out the tubing, igniting Mr Tomaszewski's hair and severely burning his face. It also set fire to the gerbil's fur and whiskers which in turn ignited a larger pocket of gas further up the intestine, propelling the rodent out like a cannonball." Tomaszewski suffered second degree burns and a broken nose from the impact of the gerbil, while Farnum suffered first and second degree burns to his anus and lower intestinal tract.
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A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" She asked. "Hunting flies," He responded. "Oh. Killing many?" She asked. "Yep. 3 males, 2 females!" Intrigued, she asked, "How can you tell them apart?" "3 were on a beer can and 2 were on the phone!"
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Topic:
Technology
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After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, British scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago.
Not to be outdone by the Brits, in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times: "American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 100 years earlier than the British". One week later, the Mexican Department of Agriculture reported the following: "After digging as deep as 30 feet near Mexico City, Jose Sanchez, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely nothing. Jose therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Mexico had already gone wireless."
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Topic:
Piss in your Eye
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A guy went out duck hunting and while he was having a rest leaned his rifle against a tree.
Unfortunately for him though, a gust of wind blew his weapon over which discharged shooting him in his private parts. Several hours later, lying in a hospital bed, he was approached by his doctor. "Well sir, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that you are going to be OK. The damage was local to your groin, there was very little internal damage and we were able to remove all of the buckshot." "What's the bad news?" asked the hunter. "The bad news is that there was some pretty extensive buckshot damage done to your penis which left quite a few holes in it. I'm going to have to refer you to my sister." "Well I guess that isn't too bad," the hunter replied. "Is your sister a plastic surgeon?" "Not exactly," answered the doctor. "She's a flute player in the London Symphony Orchestra.... She's going to teach you where to put your fingers so you don't piss in your eye
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