<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652</id><updated>2009-09-27T00:25:59.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My World of Randomness</title><subtitle type='html'>A world where the collection of the most random things reign free...hosted by blogger and created and controlled by Asa-X. :D</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-2388193864943888234</id><published>2006-10-08T15:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T15:08:04.712-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bumper Stickers</title><content type='html'>* Horn broken. Watch for finger. &lt;br /&gt;* Your kid may be an honors student, but you’re still an idiot. &lt;br /&gt;* All generalizations are false. &lt;br /&gt;* Cover me. I’m changing lanes. &lt;br /&gt;* I brake for no apparent reason. &lt;br /&gt;* Learn from your parent’s mistakes - use birth control. &lt;br /&gt;* I’m not as think as you drunk I am. &lt;br /&gt;* Forget about World Peace ­ Visualize using your turn signal. &lt;br /&gt;* We have enough youth, how about a fountain of Smart? &lt;br /&gt;* He who laughs last thinks slowest. &lt;br /&gt;* Lottery: A tax on people who are bad at math. &lt;br /&gt;* It IS as bad as you think, and they ARE out to get you. &lt;br /&gt;* Auntie Em, Hate you, hate Kansas, taking the dog. Dorothy. &lt;br /&gt;* Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine. &lt;br /&gt;* Time is what keeps everything from happening at once. &lt;br /&gt;* I love cats ­ they taste just like chicken. &lt;br /&gt;* Out of my mind. Back in five minutes. &lt;br /&gt;* Forget the Joneses, I keep us up with the Simpsons. &lt;br /&gt;* Born free ­Taxed to death. &lt;br /&gt;* The more people I meet, the more I like my dog. &lt;br /&gt;* Laugh alone and the world thinks you’re an idiot. &lt;br /&gt;* Rehab is for quitters. &lt;br /&gt;* I get enough exercise just pushing my luck. &lt;br /&gt;* Sometimes I wake up grumpy; Other times I let him sleep. &lt;br /&gt;* All men are idiots, and I married their King. &lt;br /&gt;* Jack Kevorkian for White House Physician. &lt;br /&gt;* Work is for people who don’t know how to fish. &lt;br /&gt;* Montana: At least our cows are sane! &lt;br /&gt;* I didn’t fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian. &lt;br /&gt;* Women who seek to be equal to men lack ambition. &lt;br /&gt;* If you don’t like the news, go out and make some. &lt;br /&gt;* When you do a good deed, get a receipt, in case heaven is like the IRS…&lt;br /&gt;* Sorry, I don’t date outside my species. &lt;br /&gt;* No radio - Already stolen. &lt;br /&gt;* Reality is a crutch for people who can’t handle drugs. &lt;br /&gt;* Real women don’t have hot flashes, they have power surges. &lt;br /&gt;* I took an IQ test and the results were negative. &lt;br /&gt;* Where there’s a will, I want to be in it. &lt;br /&gt;* OK, who stopped payment on my reality check? &lt;br /&gt;* Few women admit their age; fewer men act it. &lt;br /&gt;* I don’t suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it. &lt;br /&gt;* Hard work has a future payoff. Laziness pays off NOW. &lt;br /&gt;* Tell me to stuff it - I’m a taxidermist. &lt;br /&gt;* IRS: We’ve got what it takes to take what you’ve got. &lt;br /&gt;* Time is the best teacher; unfortunately it kills all its students. &lt;br /&gt;* It’s lonely at the top, but you eat better. &lt;br /&gt;* According to my calculations, the problem doesn’t exist. &lt;br /&gt;* Some people are only alive because it is illegal to kill. &lt;br /&gt;* Pride is what we have. Vanity is what others have. &lt;br /&gt;* A bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory. &lt;br /&gt;* Reality? Is that where the pizza delivery guy comes from? &lt;br /&gt;* How can I miss you if you won’t go away? &lt;br /&gt;* Warning: Dates in Calendar are closer than they appear. &lt;br /&gt;* Give me ambiguity or give me something else. &lt;br /&gt;* We are born naked, wet, and hungry. Then things get worse. &lt;br /&gt;* Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. &lt;br /&gt;* Always remember you’re unique, just like everyone else. &lt;br /&gt;* Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies. &lt;br /&gt;* Very funny Scotty, now beam down my clothes. &lt;br /&gt;* Puritanism: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy. &lt;br /&gt;* Consciousness: That annoying time between naps. &lt;br /&gt;* i souport publik edekashun. &lt;br /&gt;* Be nice to your kids. They’ll choose your nursing home. &lt;br /&gt;* Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.&lt;br /&gt;* There are 3 kinds of people: those who can count &amp; those who can’t. &lt;br /&gt;* Why is abbreviation such a long word? &lt;br /&gt;* Ever stop to think and forget to start again? &lt;br /&gt;* Keep honking ­I’m reloading. &lt;br /&gt;* Caution: I drive like you do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-2388193864943888234?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2388193864943888234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2388193864943888234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/bumper-stickers.html' title='Bumper Stickers'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-8058663502175660238</id><published>2006-10-08T14:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T14:51:38.079-04:00</updated><title type='text'>...walks into a bar</title><content type='html'>&amp;raquo; Two peanuts walked into a bar. One was a salted. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; A jumper cable walks into a bar. The barman says "I'll serve you, but don't start anything." &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; A sandwich walks into a bar. The barman says, "Sorry we don't serve food in here."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; A dyslexic man walks into a rab. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says: "A beer please, and one for the road." &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Two aerials meet on a roof, fall in love get married. The ceremony wasn't much but the reception was brilliant. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?" &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; "Doc, I can't stop singing 'The green, green grass of home.'" "That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome." "Is it common?" "It's not unusual." &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Two cows standing next to each other in a field, Daisy says to Dolly "I was artificially inseminated this morning." "I don't believe you," said Dolly. "It's true, no bull!" Exclaimed Daisy. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive..." &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Deja Moo: The feeling that you've heard this bull before. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; I went to the butchers the other day and I bet him 50 bucks that he couldn't reach the meat off the top shelf. He said, 'no, the steaks are too high.' &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly; but when they lit a fire in the craft, it sank, proving once and for all that you can't have your kayak and heat it too. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;raquo; What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-8058663502175660238?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8058663502175660238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8058663502175660238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/walks-into-bar.html' title='...walks into a bar'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-1437368219486453963</id><published>2006-10-08T14:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T14:49:00.342-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Foxy Roxy</title><content type='html'>The other day, a woman came out of the kitchen and when her husband approached, she slapped him up side the head, WHACK! He was a little dazed and asked, "What was that for?" She said, "I was cleaning out your pants to put them in the laundry and found a piece of paper with the name ‘Foxy Roxy' on it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Honey, you know that I went out the other day with the boys to the race track. I bet on a horse named ‘Foxy Roxy' and that we won a lot of money on it. &lt;br /&gt;She felt so bad that she fixed him his favorite dinner and really treated him good since she had made this mistake and not trusted him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days went by and the husband came through the door and "WHACK," she smacked him up side the head again. He said, "Ouch! What was that for???" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, "Your horse called today......."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-1437368219486453963?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/1437368219486453963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/1437368219486453963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/foxy-roxy.html' title='Foxy Roxy'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-4358645780392430955</id><published>2006-10-08T14:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T14:06:15.541-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Capitalism and Cows</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Traditional Capitalsim:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An American Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. You are surprised when the cow drops dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;French Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You go on strike because you want three cows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Japanese Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create clever cow cartoon images called Cowkimon(tm) and market them world-wide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A German Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A British Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. Both are mad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An Italian Corporation:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You break for lunch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Russian: &lt;/strong&gt;You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 12 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Swiss:&lt;/strong&gt; You have 5000 cows, none of which belong to you. You charge others for storing them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hindu:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You worship them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chinese:&lt;/strong&gt; You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim full employment, high bovine productivity, and arrest the newsman who reported the numbers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Arkansas: &lt;/strong&gt;You have two cows. That one on the left is kinda cute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enron: &lt;/strong&gt;You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. Sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you with &lt;br /&gt;nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public buys your bull. &lt;br /&gt;Arthur Anderson, LLC -- You have 2 cows. You shred all documents that Enron has any cows, take 2 cows from Enron for payment for consulting the cows, and attest that Enron has 9 cows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-4358645780392430955?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/4358645780392430955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/4358645780392430955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/traditional-capitalsim-you-have-two.html' title='Capitalism and Cows'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-8528267057533974025</id><published>2006-10-08T14:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T14:01:55.411-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyesore</title><content type='html'>This woman rushed to see her doctor, looking very much worried and all strung out. She rattles off: “Doctor, take a look at me. When I woke up this morning, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my hair all wiry and frazzled up, my skin was all wrinkled and pasty, my eyes were bloodshot and bugging out, and I had this corpse-like look on my face! What's WRONG with me, Doctor!?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor looks her over for a couple of minutes, then calmly says: “Well, I can tell you that there ain't nothing wrong with your eyesight....”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-8528267057533974025?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8528267057533974025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8528267057533974025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/eyesore.html' title='Eyesore'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-7227094399351975977</id><published>2006-10-08T13:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T14:00:26.396-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Funeral</title><content type='html'>A man and a friend are playing golf one day at their local golf course. One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer. His friend says: “Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man.” The man then replies: “Yeah, well we were married 35 years.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-7227094399351975977?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7227094399351975977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7227094399351975977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/funeral_08.html' title='The Funeral'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-8933974488006832584</id><published>2006-10-08T13:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T13:56:26.584-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Tick People Off</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 99 copies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sexual favors." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Specify that your drive-through order is "TO-GO." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions "to keep them tuned up." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reply to everything someone says with "that's what you think." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Practice making fax and modem noises. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc" them to your boss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make beeping noises when a large person backs up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with prophesy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears and grimacing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Holler random numbers while someone is counting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Staple pages in the middle of the page. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a croaking noise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Honk and wave to strangers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary mints at the cash register. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;TYPE IN UPPERCASE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;type only in lowercase. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;dont use any punctuation either &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Repeat the following conversation a dozen times:&lt;br /&gt;"DO YOU HEAR THAT?"&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;"Never mind, it's gone now." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;As much as possible, skip rather than walk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin. When nearly done, announce "No, wait, I messed it up," and repeat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask people what gender they are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;While making presentations, occasionally bob your head like a parakeet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sing along at the opera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn't rhyme. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask your co-workers mysterious questions and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something about "psychological profiles."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-8933974488006832584?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8933974488006832584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8933974488006832584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/how-to-tick-people-off.html' title='How to Tick People Off'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-3639418349765306771</id><published>2006-10-08T13:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T13:43:41.470-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Monk</title><content type='html'>A guy joins a monastery and takes a vow of silence: he’s allowed to say two words every seven years. After the first seven years, the elders bring him in and ask for his two words. "Cold floors," he says. They nod and send him away. Seven more years pass. They bring him back in and ask for his two words. He clears his throats and says, "Bad food." They nod and send him away. Seven more years pass. They bring him in for his two words. "I quit," he says. "That’s not surprising," the elders say. "You’ve done nothing but complain since you got here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-3639418349765306771?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3639418349765306771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3639418349765306771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/monk.html' title='The Monk'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-9014023712041198390</id><published>2006-10-07T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:53:00.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Ways to know if you have PMS</title><content type='html'>1. Everyone around you has an attitude problem. &lt;br /&gt;2. You're adding chocolate chips to your cheese omelet. &lt;br /&gt;3. The dryer has shrunk every last pair of your jeans. &lt;br /&gt;4. Your husband is suddenly agreeing to everything you say. &lt;br /&gt;5. You're using your cellular phone to dial up every bumper sticker that says: "How's my driving-call 1-800-***-****." &lt;br /&gt;6. Everyone's head looks like an invitation to batting-practice. &lt;br /&gt;7. You're convinced there's a God and he's male. &lt;br /&gt;8. You're counting down the days until menopause. &lt;br /&gt;9. You're sure that everyone is scheming to drive you crazy. &lt;br /&gt;10. The ibuprofen bottle is empty and you bought it yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;6. If they want to loan you money, tell them you just filed for bankruptcy and you could sure use some money. &lt;br /&gt;5. Tell the telemarketer you are on "home arrest" and ask if they could bring you a case of beer and some chips.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-9014023712041198390?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/9014023712041198390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/9014023712041198390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/1_07.html' title='10 Ways to know if you have PMS'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-3531561147669736271</id><published>2006-10-07T13:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:50:59.268-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Words that don't exist, but should:</title><content type='html'>1. AQUADEXTROUS (ak wa deks' trus) adj. Possessing the ability to turn the bathtub faucet on and off with your toes. &lt;br /&gt;2. CARPERPETUATION (kar' pur pet u a shun) n. The act, when vacuuming, of running over a string or a piece of lint at least a dozen times, reaching over and picking it up, examining it, then putting it back down to give the vacuum one more chance. &lt;br /&gt;3. DISCONFECT (dis kon fekt') v. To sterilize the piece of candy you dropped on the floor by blowing on it, assuming this will somehow ‘remove' all the germs. &lt;br /&gt;4. ELBONICS (el bon' iks) n. The actions of two people maneuvering for one armrest in a movie theater. &lt;br /&gt;5. FRUST (frust) n. The small line of debris that refuses to be swept onto the dust pan and keeps backing a person across the room until he finally decides to give up and sweep it under the rug. &lt;br /&gt;6. LACTOMANGULATION (lak' to man gyu lay' shun) n. Manhandling the "open here" spout on a milk container so badly that one has to resort to the ‘illegal' side. &lt;br /&gt;7. PEPPIER (pehp ee ay') n. The waiter at a fancy restaurant whose sole purpose seems to be walking around asking diners if they want ground pepper. &lt;br /&gt;8. PHONESIA (fo nee' zhuh) n. The affliction of dialing a phone number and forgetting whom you were calling just as they answer. &lt;br /&gt;9. PUPKUS (pup' kus) n. The moist residue left on a window after a dog presses its nose to it.&lt;br /&gt;10. TELECRASTINATION (tel e kras tin ay' shun) n. The act of always letting the phone ring at least twice before you pick it up, even when you're only six inches away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-3531561147669736271?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3531561147669736271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3531561147669736271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/10-words-that-dont-exist-but-should.html' title='10 Words that don&apos;t exist, but should:'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-7015359838243396997</id><published>2006-10-07T13:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:49:10.539-04:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Fun Ways To Phone in a Pizza Order</title><content type='html'>1. If using a touch-tone, press random numbers while ordering. Ask the person taking the order to stop doing that. &lt;br /&gt;2. Make up a charge-card name. Ask if they accept it. &lt;br /&gt;3. Use CB lingo where applicable. &lt;br /&gt;4. Order a Big Mac Extra Value Meal. &lt;br /&gt;5. Terminate the call with, "Remember, we never had this conversation." &lt;br /&gt;6. Tell the order taker a rival pizza place is on the other line and you're going with the lowest bidder. &lt;br /&gt;7. Give them your address, exclaim "Oh, just surprise me!" and hang up. &lt;br /&gt;8. Answer their questions with questions. &lt;br /&gt;9. In your breathiest voice, tell them to cut the crap about nutrition and ask if they have something outlandishly sinful. &lt;br /&gt;10. Use these bonus words in the conversation: ROBUST FREE-SPIRITED COST-EFFICIENT UKRAINIAN PUCE. &lt;br /&gt;11. Tell them to put the crust on top this time.&lt;br /&gt;12. Sing the order to the tune of your favorite song from Metallica's "Master of Puppets" CD. &lt;br /&gt;13. Do not name the toppings you want. Rather, spell them out. &lt;br /&gt;14. Put an extra edge in your voice when you say "crazy bread." &lt;br /&gt;15. Stutter on the letter "p." &lt;br /&gt;16. Ask for a deal available somewhere else. (e.g. If phoning Domino's, ask for a Cheeser! Cheeser!) &lt;br /&gt;17. Ask what the order taker is wearing. &lt;br /&gt;18. Crack your knuckles into the receiver. &lt;br /&gt;19. Say hello, act stunned for five seconds, then behave as if they called you. &lt;br /&gt;20. Rattle off your order with a determined air. If they ask if you would like drinks with that, panic and become disoriented. &lt;br /&gt;21. Tell the order taker you're depressed. Get him/her to cheer you up. &lt;br /&gt;22. Make a list of exotic cuisines. Order them as toppings. &lt;br /&gt;23. Change your accent every three seconds. &lt;br /&gt;24. Order 52 pepperoni slices prepared in a fractal pattern as follows from an equation you are about to dictate. Ask if they need paper. &lt;br /&gt;25. Act like you know the order taker from somewhere. Say "Bed-Wetters' Camp, right?" &lt;br /&gt;26. Start your order with "I'd like. . . ". A little later, slap yourself and say &lt;br /&gt;"No, I don't." &lt;br /&gt;27. If they repeat the order to make sure they have it right, say &lt;br /&gt;"OK. That'll be $10.99; please pull up to the first window." &lt;br /&gt;28. Rent a pizza. &lt;br /&gt;29. Order while using an electric knife sharpener. &lt;br /&gt;30. Ask if you get to keep the pizza box. When they say yes, heave a sigh of relief. &lt;br /&gt;31. Put the accent on the last syllable of "pepperoni." Use the long "i" sound. &lt;br /&gt;32. Have your pizza "shaken, not stirred." &lt;br /&gt;33. Say "Are you sure this is (Pizza Place)? When they say yes, say "Well, so is this! You've got some explaining to do!" When they finally offer proof that it is, in fact, (Pizza Place), start to cry and ask, "Do you know what it's like to be lied to?" &lt;br /&gt;34. Move the mouthpiece farther and farther from your lips as you speak. When the call ends, jerk the mouthpiece back into place and scream goodbye at the top of your lungs. &lt;br /&gt;35. Tell them to double-check to make sure your pizza is, in fact, dead. &lt;br /&gt;36. Imitate the order taker's voice. &lt;br /&gt;37. Eliminate verbs from your speech. &lt;br /&gt;38. When they say "What would you like?" say, "Huh? Oh, you mean now." &lt;br /&gt;39. Play a sitar in the background. &lt;br /&gt;40. Say it's your anniversary and you'd appreciate if the deliverer hid behind some furniture waiting for your spouse to arrive so you can surprise him/her. &lt;br /&gt;41. Amuse the order taker with little-known facts about country music. &lt;br /&gt;42. Ask to see a menu. &lt;br /&gt;43. Quote Carl Sandberg. &lt;br /&gt;44. Say you'll be able to pay for this when the movie people call back. &lt;br /&gt;45. Ask if they have any idea what is at stake with this pizza. &lt;br /&gt;46. Ask what topping goes best with well-aged Chardonnay. &lt;br /&gt;47. Belch directly into the mouthpiece; then tell your dog it should be ashamed. &lt;br /&gt;48. Order a slice, not a whole pizza. &lt;br /&gt;49. Shout "I'm through with men/women! Send me a dozen of your best, Gaston!" &lt;br /&gt;50. Doze off in the middle of the order, catch yourself, and say "Where was I? Who are you?" &lt;br /&gt;51. Psychoanalyze the order taker. &lt;br /&gt;52. Ask what their phone number is. Hang up, call them, and ask again. &lt;br /&gt;53. Order two toppings, then say, "No, they'll start fighting." &lt;br /&gt;54. Learn to properly pronounce the ingredients of a Twinkie. Ask that these be included in the pizza. &lt;br /&gt;55. Call to complain about service. Later, call to say you were drunk and didn't mean it. &lt;br /&gt;56. Tell the order taker to tell the manager to tell his supervisor he's fired. &lt;br /&gt;57. Report a petty theft to the order taker. &lt;br /&gt;58. Use expletives like "Great Caesar's Ghost" and "Jesus Joseph and Mary in Tinsel Town." &lt;br /&gt;59. Ask for the guy who took your order last time. &lt;br /&gt;60. If he/she suggests anything, adamantly declare, "I shall not be swayed by your sweet words."&lt;br /&gt;61. Wonder aloud if you should trim those nose hairs. &lt;br /&gt;62. Try to talk while drinking something. &lt;br /&gt;63. Start the conversation with "My Call to (Pizza Place), Take 1, and. . . action!" &lt;br /&gt;64. Ask if the pizza is organically grown. &lt;br /&gt;65. Ask about pizza maintenance and repair. &lt;br /&gt;66. Be vague in your order. &lt;br /&gt;67. When they repeat your order, say "Again, with a little more OOMPH this time."&lt;br /&gt;68. If using a touch-tone press 9-1-1 every 5 seconds throughout the order. &lt;br /&gt;69. After ordering, say "I wonder what THIS button on the phone does." Simulate a cutoff. &lt;br /&gt;70. Start the conversation by reciting today's date and saying, "This may be my last entry." &lt;br /&gt;71. State your order and say that's as far as this relationship is going to get. &lt;br /&gt;72. Ask if they're familiar with the term "spanking a pizza." Make up a description to go with the term. Ask that this be done to your pizza. &lt;br /&gt;73. Say "Kssssssssssssssht" rather loudly into the phone. Ask if they felt that. &lt;br /&gt;74. Detect the order taker's psychic aura. Use it to your advantage. &lt;br /&gt;75. When listing toppings you want on your pizza, include another pizza. &lt;br /&gt;76. Learn to play a blues riff on the harmonica. Stop talking at regular intervals to play it.&lt;br /&gt;77. Ask if they would like to sample your pizza. Suggest an even trade. &lt;br /&gt;78. Perfect a celebrity's voice. Stress that you won't take any crap from some two-bit can't-hack-it pimple-faced gofer. &lt;br /&gt;79. Put them on hold. &lt;br /&gt;80. Teach the order taker a scret code. Use the code on all subsequent orders. &lt;br /&gt;81. Mumble, "There's a bomb under your seat." When asked to repeat that, say "I said 'sauce smothered with meat'." &lt;br /&gt;82. Make the first topping you order mushrooms. Make the last thing you say "No mushrooms, &lt;br /&gt;please." Hang up before they have a chance to respond. &lt;br /&gt;83. When the order is repeated, change it slightly. When it is repeated again, change it again. &lt;br /&gt;On the third time, say "You just don't get it, do you?" &lt;br /&gt;84. When you're given the price, say "Ooooooo, that sounds complicated. I hate math." &lt;br /&gt;85. Haggle. &lt;br /&gt;86. Order a one-inch pizza. &lt;br /&gt;87. Order term life insurance. &lt;br /&gt;88. When they say "Will that be all?", snicker and say "We'll find out, won't we?" &lt;br /&gt;89. Order with a Speak-n-Spell where applicable. &lt;br /&gt;90. Ask how many dolphins were killed to make that pizza. &lt;br /&gt;91. While on the phone, fake entering puberty. Fluctuate pitch often; act embarrassed. &lt;br /&gt;92. Engage in some serious swapping. &lt;br /&gt;93. Dance all around the word "pizza." Avoid saying it at all costs. If he/she says it, say "Please don't mention that word." &lt;br /&gt;94. Have a movie with a good car chase scene playing loudly in the background. Yell "OW!" when a bullet is fired. &lt;br /&gt;95. If he/she suggests a side order, ask why he/she is punishing you. &lt;br /&gt;96. Ask if the pizza has had its shots. &lt;br /&gt;97. Order a steamed pizza. &lt;br /&gt;98. Get taker's name. Later, call exactly on the hour to say, "This is your (time of day) wake-up call, So-and-so." Hang up. &lt;br /&gt;99. Offer to pay for the pizza with a public flogging. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of the above practices are rejected by the order taker, &lt;br /&gt;100. Say, in your best pouty voice, "Last guy let me do it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-7015359838243396997?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7015359838243396997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7015359838243396997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/1.html' title='100 Fun Ways To Phone in a Pizza Order'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-2851289545138180853</id><published>2006-10-07T13:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:46:55.809-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes we just need to remember what the 12 Rules of Life really are:</title><content type='html'>1. Never give yourself a haircut after three margaritas. &lt;br /&gt;2. You need only two tools: WD-40 and duct tape. If it doesn't move and it should, use WD-40. If it moves and shouldn't, use the tape. &lt;br /&gt;3. The five most essential words for a healthy, vital relationship are "I apologize" and "you are right." &lt;br /&gt;4. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them. &lt;br /&gt;5. Never pass up an opportunity to pee. &lt;br /&gt;6. If he/she says that you are too good for him/her - believe them. &lt;br /&gt;7. Learn to pick your battles; ask yourself, "Will this matter one year from now? How about one month? One week? One day?" &lt;br /&gt;8. When you make a mistake, make amends immediately. It's easier to eat crow while it's still warm. &lt;br /&gt;9. If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You have another chance! &lt;br /&gt;10. Living well really is the best revenge. Being miserable because of a bad or former relationship just might mean that the other person was right about you. &lt;br /&gt;11. Work is good, but it's not that important. Money is nice, but you can't take it with you. Statistics show most people don't live to spend all they saved; some die even before they retire. Anything we have isn't really ours; It's on loan to us while we're here ...even our kids. &lt;br /&gt;12. And finally...Be really good to your family and/or friends. You never know when you are going to need them to empty your bedpan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-2851289545138180853?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2851289545138180853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2851289545138180853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/sometimes-we-just-need-to-remember-what.html' title='Sometimes we just need to remember what the 12 Rules of Life really are:'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-5000475517159956789</id><published>2006-10-07T13:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:44:59.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>20 Ways to ConfuseSanta Claus</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;While he's in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding ticket. &lt;br /&gt;Leave him a note, explaining that you've gone away for the holidays. Ask if he would mind watering your plants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;While he's in the house, replace all his reindeer with exact replicas. Then wait and see what happens when he tries to get them to fly. &lt;br /&gt;K&lt;li&gt;eep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa suit! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that say "We hate Christmas," and "Go away Santa." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called and wanted to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on his way home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Throw a surprise party for Santa when he comes down the chimney. Refuse to let him leave until the strippers arrive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;While he's in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that last payment, and take off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave a plate filled with cookies and a glass of milk out, with a note that says, "For The Tooth Fairy. :)" Leave another plate out with half a stale cookie and a few drops of skim milk in a dirty glass with a note that says, "For Santa. :(" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take everything out of your house as if it's just been robbed. When Santa arrives, show up dressed like a policeman and say, "Well, well. They always return to the scene of the crime." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave out a copy of your Christmas list with last-minute changes and corrections. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;While he's in the house, cover the top of the chimney with barbed wire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave lots of hunting trophies and guns out where Santa's sure to see them. Go outside, yell, "Ooh! Look! A deer! And he's got a red nose!" and fire a gun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave Santa a note, explaining that you've moved. Include a map with unclear and hard-to-read directions to your new house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Set a bear trap at the bottom of the chimney. Wait for Santa to get caught in it, and then explain that you're sorry, but from a distance, he looked like a bear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leave out a Santa suit, with a dry-cleaning bill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Paint "hoof-prints" all over your face and clothes. While he's in the house, go out on the roof. When he comes back up, act like you've been "trampled." Threaten to sue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Instead of ornaments, decorate your tree with Easter eggs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dress up like the Easter Bunny. Wait for Santa to come and then say, "This neighborhood ain't big enough for the both of us." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-5000475517159956789?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/5000475517159956789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/5000475517159956789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/20-santa-claus.html' title='20 Ways to ConfuseSanta Claus'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-3466584817397656719</id><published>2006-10-07T13:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:40:17.027-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drunk Guy</title><content type='html'>A man and his wife are awakened at 3 o'clock in the morning by a loud pounding on the door. The man gets up and goes to the door where a drunken stranger, standing in the pouring rain, asks for a push.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not a chance," says the husband, "It's 3 o'clock in he morning!" He slams the door and returns to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who was that?" asked his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just some drunk guy asking for a push," he answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you help him?" she asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I did not!  It's 3 o'clock in the morning and it is pouring out there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you have a short memory," says his wife. "Can't you remember, about three months ago when we broke down, and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him, and you should be ashamed of yourself!" So the man gets dressed and goes out into the pounding rain. He calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" comes back the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you still need a push?" the husband calls out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where are you?" asks the husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Over here on the swing!" replies the drunk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-3466584817397656719?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3466584817397656719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3466584817397656719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-and-his-wife-are-awakened-at-3.html' title='The Drunk Guy'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-7266302947608566749</id><published>2006-10-07T13:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:38:51.144-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Annual Physical</title><content type='html'>70-year old George went for his annual physical. All of his tests came back with normal results. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Smith said, "George, everything looks great physically. How are you doing mentally and emotionally? Are you at peace with yourself, and do you have a good relationship with God?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George replied, "God and me are tight. He knows I have poor eyesight, so he's fixed it so that when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom *poof* the light goes on, when I'm done *poof* the light goes off." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow!" commented Dr. Smith, "That's incredible!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little later in the day Dr. Smith called George's wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ethel," he said, "George is doing fine. Physically he's great. But, I had to call because I'm in awe of his relationship with God. Is it true that he gets up during the night and *poof* the light goes on in the bathroom, and then when he is through *poof* the light goes off?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ethel exclaimed, "Oh, my God! He's peeing in the refrigerator again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-7266302947608566749?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7266302947608566749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/7266302947608566749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/annual-physical.html' title='The Annual Physical'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-262101698773556362</id><published>2006-10-07T13:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:36:59.725-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A bloke walks up to the bar...</title><content type='html'>A Bloke in Australia walks up to the bar with a big OSTRICH behind him, and as he sits, a small CAT jumps up on the stool beside him. The barman comes over, regarding the trio with some curiosity, and says, "What'll it be?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man says," I'll have a pint", and turns to the ostrich, "What's yours?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll have a pint as well" says the ostrich. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bloke looks at the cat, and says "I suppose you want a drink too." "The cat replies, "I'll have a half, but I ain't fookin' payin'!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the barman pulls two and a half pints, and says "That'll be three pounds forty, please." The man reaches into his pocket, feels around, and, to the barman's surprise, pulls out exactly the three-forty in change. A while later, the same thing happens, and the man pulls the exact amount out of the same pocket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the man, the ostrich, and the cat return to the same bar. "I'll have a pint," says the man. "Same for me," says the ostrich, and the cat orders up a half..."But I ain't fookin' payin'!" Repeat of yesterday. The bloke pays each time with the exact amount from his pocket. This becomes almost a regular routine until, late one evening, the trio enter again. "The same?" asks the barman. "Well", says the man, "it's close to last orders. I'll have a large scotch." He turns to the ostrich enquiringly. The bird says, "I'll have a large scotch as well." The cat says, "I'll have a small scotch... but I ain't fookin' payin'!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barman rings up the drinks and turns, with a sly grin, "that'll be seven pounds twenty, please." To his amazement, the man pulls the exact seven &amp; twenty out of his pocket. As the trio are finishing their drinks, the barman can contain his curiosity no longer. "Excuse me, sir, but before you leave there's something I must know... how do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket...every time?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", says the man, "it's a long story. But basically, several years ago I took care of an old lady well into her nineties, and when she died, she left me her old house. Nothing special, but as I was cleaning out the attic, I found an old lamp, and when I rubbed it, this genie appeared and offered me two wishes." "That's fantastic", says the barkeep, "What did you wish for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, if I ever need to pay for anything, I just put my hand in my pocket and the right money will always be there." "That's brilliant" says the barman, "most people would wish for a million pounds or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right, whether its a quart of milk or even a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there. The best thing I ever did!" As he turns to go, the barman calls him back and says, "One last thing, sir... err, your friends there... we don't get many cats or ostriches drinkin' in 'ere...?" The man looks glum. "Yes, I know." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's probably the worst thing I ever did, but I'm stuck with 'em. You see, for my second wish from the genie, I asked for a chick with long legs and a tight pussy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-262101698773556362?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/262101698773556362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/262101698773556362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/bloke-in-australia-walks-up-to-bar-with.html' title='A bloke walks up to the bar...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-2455120796963268883</id><published>2006-10-07T13:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:34:13.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A blonde dials 911...</title><content type='html'>A blonde dials 911 to report that her car has been broken into. She is hysterical as she explains her situation to the dispatcher. "They've stolen the dashboard, the steering wheel, the brake pedal, and even the accelerator!" she cries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 911 dispatcher says, "Stay calm. An officer is on the way. He will be there in two minutes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the police get to the crime scene, however, the 911 dispatcher's telephone rings a second time, and the same blonde is on the line again "Never mind," giggles the blonde, "I got in the back seat by mistake."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-2455120796963268883?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2455120796963268883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2455120796963268883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/blonde-dials-911.html' title='A blonde dials 911...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-8006200766831586446</id><published>2006-10-07T13:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:33:20.272-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A guy walks into a bar with an octopus under his arm. He sets the octopus on a stool next to him and announces: "This is an amazing octopus. I'll bet anyone in this bar that this octopus can play any instrument set in front of it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of the people could believe this, so one guy brought up a guitar. The octopus took hold of the guitar and started wailing away, better than Jimi Hendrix. The man took $50 from the guitarist. Next someone brings up a trumpet. The octopus started playing the trumpet, better than Dizzy Gillespie. The man won another $50 from the trumpeter. Then some guy brought up some bagpipes. The octopus picked up the bagpipes for a minute and, looking a little puzzled, set them down again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can't you play the bagpipes?" asked the man. "Play it?" said the octopus, "I'm gonna f_ck it as soon as I figure out how to get its pajamas off."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-8006200766831586446?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8006200766831586446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8006200766831586446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/guy-walks-into-bar-with-octopus-under.html' title=''/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-3492366673767982211</id><published>2006-10-07T13:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:32:08.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In a trial, in a small SC town, a prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was sworn in, asked if she would tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, on the Bible, so help her God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The witness was a proper well-dressed elderly lady, the grandmother type, well-spoken and poised. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prosecuting attorney approached the woman and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know me?" She responded, "Why, yes I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a young boy and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, cheat on your wife, manipulate people and talk badly about them behind their backs. You think you're a rising big shot when you haven't the sense to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper-pushing shyster. Yes, I know you quite well." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer was stunned. He couldn't even think for a few minutes. Then, slowly backed away, fearing the looks on the judge and jurors' faces, not to mention the court reporter who documented every word. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She again replied, "Why, yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, has a bad drinking problem. The man can't build or keep a normal relationship with anyone and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. Yes, I know him." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The defense attorney almost fainted and was seen slipping downward in his chair, looking at the floor. Laughter mixed with gasps thundered throughout the court room and the audience was on the verge of chaos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the judge brought the courtroom to silence, called both counselors to the bench, and in a very quiet voice said, "If either of you crooked bastards asks her if she knows me, you'll be thrown in jail for contempt!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-3492366673767982211?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3492366673767982211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3492366673767982211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/in-trial-in-small-sc-town-prosecuting.html' title=''/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-2632726067647027785</id><published>2006-10-07T13:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:30:28.292-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A local business was looking for office help...</title><content type='html'>A local business was looking for office help. They put a sign in the window, stating the &lt;br /&gt;following: "HELP WANTED. Must be able to type, must be good with a computer and must be &lt;br /&gt;bilingual. We are an Equal Opportunity Employer." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time afterwards, a dog trotted up to the window, saw the sign and went inside. He &lt;br /&gt;looked at the receptionist and wagged his tail, then walked over to the sign, looked at it and &lt;br /&gt;whined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting the idea, the receptionist got the office manager. The office manager looked at the &lt;br /&gt;dog and was surprised, to say the least. However, the dog looked determined, so he lead him &lt;br /&gt;into the office. Inside, the dog jumped up on the chair and stared at the manager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager said "I can't hire you. The sign says you have to be able to type." The dog jumped &lt;br /&gt;down, went to the typewriter and proceeded to type out a perfect letter. He took out the page &lt;br /&gt;and trotted over to the manager and gave it to him, then jumped back on the chair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager was stunned, but then told the dog "the sign says you have to be good with a &lt;br /&gt;computer." The dog jumped down again and went to the computer. The dog proceeded to enter and &lt;br /&gt;execute a perfect program, that worked flawlessly the first time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time the manager was totally dumb-founded! He looked at the dog and said "I realize &lt;br /&gt;that you are a very intelligent dog and have some interesting abilities. However, I *still* &lt;br /&gt;can't give you the job." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog jumped down and went to a copy of the sign and put his paw on the sentences that told &lt;br /&gt;about being an Equal Opportunity Employer. The manager said "yes, but the sign *also* says that &lt;br /&gt;you have to be bilingual."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-2632726067647027785?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2632726067647027785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/2632726067647027785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/local-business-was-looking-for-office.html' title='A local business was looking for office help...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-4429027592343065326</id><published>2006-10-07T13:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:28:57.731-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A man was crossing a road one day...</title><content type='html'>A man was crossing a road one day when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful princess." He bent over, picked up the frog, and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful princess, I will tell everyone how smart and brave you are and how you are my hero." The man took the frog out his pocket, smiled at it, and returned it to his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful princess, I will be your loving companion for an entire week." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it, and returned it to his pocket. The frog then cried out, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I'll stay with you for a year and do ANYTHING you want." Again the man took the frog out, smiled at it, and put it back into his pocket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the frog asked, "What is the matter? I've told you I'm a beautiful princess, that I'll stay with you for a year and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?" The man said, "Look, I'm a computer programmer. I don't have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog is cool!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-4429027592343065326?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/4429027592343065326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/4429027592343065326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-was-crossing-road-one-day.html' title='A man was crossing a road one day...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-1953597061854307386</id><published>2006-10-07T13:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:26:59.401-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A man was helping one of his cows give birth...</title><content type='html'>A man was helping one of his cows give birth, when he noticed his 4-year-old son standing wide-eyed at the fence, soaking in the whole event. The man thought, "Great...he's 4 and I'm gonna have to start explaining the birds and bees. No need to jump the gun - I'll just let him ask, and I'll answer." &lt;br /&gt;After everything was over, the man walked over to his son and said, "Well son, do you have any questions?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just one." gasped the still wide-eyed lad. "How fast was that calf going when he hit that cow?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-1953597061854307386?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/1953597061854307386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/1953597061854307386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-was-helping-one-of-his-cows-give.html' title='A man was helping one of his cows give birth...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-3131462353688939797</id><published>2006-10-07T13:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:23:12.518-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Minnesotan dies and...</title><content type='html'>A Minnesotan dies and is sent to hell. He was a horrible man throughout Life and the devil really wanted to punish him, so he puts him to work Breaking up rocks with a sledgehammer. To make it worse he cranks up the temperature and the humidity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a couple of days the Devil checks in on his victim to see if he is suffering adequately. The Devil is aghast as he looks at the Minnesotan happily swinging his hammer and whistling a happy tune. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Devil walks up to him and says, "I don't understand this. I've turned the heat way up, it's humid, you're crushing rocks, why are you so happy?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Minnesotan, smiling looks at the Devil replying, "This is great, it reminds me of August in Minnesota. Hot, humid a good piece of work to do - it reminds me of home. This is fantastic!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Devil, perplexed, walks away to ponder this. He decides to change Things up a bit -drops the temperature, sends down driving rain and torrential wind. Soon, hell is a wet, muddy mess. The Minnesotan is happily slogging through the mud pushing a wheelbarrow full of crushed rocks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the Devil asks how he can be happy in such conditions. The Minnesotan replies, "This is great. Just like April in Minnesota. Reminds me of working out in the fields with spring plantin'!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Devil is now completely baffled. In desperation, he tries one last ditch effort. He makes the temperature plummet. Hell is blanketed in snow and ice. Confident that this will have to do it, the Devil checks in on the Minnesotan. He is aghast as he sees the Minnesotan dancing, singing, and twirling his sledgehammer as he cavorts in glee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How can you be so happy. It's like you're celebrating. Don't you know its 40 below zero!?" screams the Devil. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hell's frozen over!" replies the Minnesotan, "The Vikings won the Superbowl!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-3131462353688939797?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3131462353688939797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/3131462353688939797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/minnesotan-dies-and.html' title='A Minnesotan dies and...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-8343276175459722173</id><published>2006-10-07T13:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:08:53.469-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A pious man...</title><content type='html'>A pious man, who had reached the age of 105, suddenly stopped going to synagogue. Alarmed by the old fellow's absence after so many years of faithful attendance, the Rabbi went to see him. He found him in excellent health, so the Rabbi asked, "How come after all these years we don't see you at services anymore?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man lowered his voice. "I'll tell you, Rabbi," he whispered. "When I got to be 90, I expected God to take me any day. But then I got to be 95, then 100, then 105. So, I figured that God is very busy and must've forgotten about me, and I don't want to remind Him!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-8343276175459722173?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8343276175459722173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/8343276175459722173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/pious-man.html' title='A pious man...'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35629652.post-175628667092994710</id><published>2006-10-07T13:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T13:06:04.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Words…</title><content type='html'>A young couple got married and went on their honeymoon. When they got back, the bride immediately called her mother. &lt;br /&gt;"Well," said her mother, "so how was the honeymoon?" &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, mama," she replied, "the honeymoon was wonderful! So romantic..." Suddenly she burst out crying. "But, mama, as soon as we returned, Sam started using the most horrible language -- things I'd never heard before! I mean all these awful 4-letter words! You've got to take me home..., PLEASE MAMA!" &lt;br /&gt;"Sarah, Sarah," her mother said, "calm down! You need to stay with your husband and work this out. Now, tell me, what could be so awful? WHAT 4-letter words?" &lt;br /&gt;"Please don't make me tell you, mama," wept the daughter, "I'm so embarrassed, they're just too awful! COME GET ME, PLEASE!!" &lt;br /&gt;"Darling, baby, you must tell me what has you so upset. Tell your mother these horrible 4-letter words!" &lt;br /&gt;Still sobbing, the bride said, "Oh, Mama..., he used words like: dust, wash, iron, cook..." &lt;br /&gt;"I'll pick you up in twenty minutes," said the mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35629652-175628667092994710?l=feraldefiance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/175628667092994710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35629652/posts/default/175628667092994710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://feraldefiance.blogspot.com/2006/10/bad-words.html' title='Bad Words…'/><author><name>Asa X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13186820588385549849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06654985259381469147'/></author></entry></feed>