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I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is John. Could I please speak to Robyn Carter?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right FLIcking number, jerk!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an arsehole!" and hung up. I felt much better! I wrote his number down with the word 'arsehole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an arsehole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic 'arsehole' calling would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telecom Customer Service. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Programme?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an arsehole!"
One day I was at the supermarket, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. Then I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first arsehole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW arsehole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is", he said. "Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.
"Yes, I live at 34 Grey Vale Road, in Ponsonby. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked on the street in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an arsehole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two arseholes to call. I felt MUCH better!
Then I came up with an idea. I called Arsehole #1.
"Hello."
"You're an arsehole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Arsehole, I live at 34 Grey Vale Road, in Ponsonby, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, arsehole," and hung up.
Then I called Arsehole #2. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, arsehole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your arse," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, arsehole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Grey Vale Road, in Ponsonby, and that I was on my way home and I was going to kill my gay lover. Then I called TV12 and TV3 News about the gang war going down in Grey Vale Road, in Ponsonby.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Ponsonby. I got there just in time to watch two arseholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six Police cars, an overhead police helicopter, and two news crew.
I have now felt much better . . . for months. Anger management really works.
"It was terrible," her husband said. "The computer broke down and all of us had to do our own thinking."
To My Dear Wife,
You will surely understand that I have certain needs that you with your 60 years can no longer supply.
I am very happy with you and value you as a good wife. Therefore after reading this fax, I hope that you will not wrongly interpret the fact that I will be spending the evening with my 18 year old secretary at the Comfort Inn Hotel.
Please don't be perturbed as I shall be back home before midnight.
When the man came home, he found the following letter on the dining room table.
My Dear Husband, I received your fax and thank you for your honesty.
I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that you are also 60 years old.
At the same time I would like to inform you that while you read this, I will be at the Hotel Fiesta with Michael my tennis coach, who like your secretary is also 18 years old.
As a successful businessman and with your excellent knowledge of math, you will understand that we are in the same situation, although with one small difference:
18 goes into 60 more often than 60 goes into 18.
Therefore I will not be back before lunchtime tomorrow.
Old Harold had enough of this nurse, so one day he pulled the juice off the breakfast tray and put it on his bed side stand. Later he was given a urine bottle to fill for testing. The juice he'd kept was apple juice, so Old Harold poured the juice into the specimen bottle.
When the nurse came in a little later she picked up the urine sample and looked at it. "My, but it seems we are a bit cloudy today."
At this, Old Harold snatched the bottle out of her hand, popped off the top and drank it down, saying, "Well, we'll run it through again. Maybe we can filter it better this time."
A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower when the doorbell rings. after a few seconds of arguing over which one should go and answer the doorbell, the wife gives up, quickly wraps herself up in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next door neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says,"I'll give you $800 just to drop that towel that you have on." After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob. Bob has a close look at her for a few seconds, hands over $800 and quietly leaves. Confused, but excited about her good fortune, the woman wraps back up in the towel and goes upstairs.
When she gets back to the bathroom, her husband asks from the shower "Who was that?"
"It was Bob the next door neighbor," she replied.
"Great," the husband says, "did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?"
MORAL OF THE STORY: Share critical credit information with your stakeholders to prevent avoidable exposure!
CORPORATE LESSON # 2
A priest was driving along and saw a nun on the side of the road, he stopped and offered her a lift which she gladly accepted. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to open and reveal a lovely leg. The priest had a look and nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg. The nun looked at him and immediately said, "Father, remember psalm 129?" The priest was flustered and apologized profusely. He forced himself to remove his hand. However, he was unable to remove his eyes from her leg. Further on, while changing gear, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, "Father, remember psalm 129?"
Once again the priest apologized."Sorry sister, but the mind is weak." Arriving at the convent, the nun got out, gave him a meaningful glance and went on her way.
On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to retrieve a bible and looked up psalm 129, which read, "Go forth and seek; further up, you will find glory."
MORAL OF THE STORY: Always be well informed in your job; or, you might miss great opportunities!
CORPORATE FINDING: Usually, the junior executives and staff of the company generally play football, the middle level managers are more interested in tennis, and the top management has a preference for Golf.
FINDING: As you go up the corporate ladder your balls reduce in size.
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it.
I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.
I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, prerecorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:
1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing payment.
3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year?
Your Humble Client
--a letter allegedly sent to a bank by a 96 year old woman and published in the New York Times
A lady died this past January, and Citi-Bank billed her for February and March for their annual service charges on her credit card, and then added late fees and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00, now is somewhere around $60.00. A family member placed a call to Citi-Bank:
Family Member: "I am calling to tell you that she died in January."
Citi-Bank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."
Family Member: "Maybe, you should turn it over to collections."
Citi-Bank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."
Family Member: "So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?"
Citi-Bank: "Either report her account to the frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!"
Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?"
Citi-Bank: "Excuse me?"
Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?"
Citi-Bank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor."
Supervisor gets on the phone:
Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you, she died in January."
Citi-Bank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."
Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"
Citi-Bank: (Stammer) "Are you her lawyer?"
Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew." (Lawyer info given)
Citi-Bank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"
Family Member: "Sure." (fax number is given)
After they get the fax:
Citi-Bank: "Our system just isn't setup for death. I don't know what more I can do to help."
Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. I don't think she will care."
Citi-Bank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply."
Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"
Citi-Bank: "That might help."
Family Member: "Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69."
Citi-Bank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"
Family Member: "Where do you put dead people on your planet?"
But every once in a while he'd hear that soothing voice trying to reassure him --
"Howard, don't worry about it. You're not the first doctor to sleep with one of your patients and you won't be the last. And, you're single. So just let it go."
But invariably the other voice would bring him back to reality.
"Howard, you're a Veterinarian..."
Then, one of the engineers said "here comes the conductor" and then all of the engineers went into the bathroom. The math majors were puzzled. The conductor came aboard and said "tickets please" and got tickets from all the math majors. He then went to the bathroom and knocked on the door and said "ticket please" and the engineers stuck the ticket under the door. The conductor took it and then the engineers came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. The math majors felt really stupid.
So, on the way back from the convention, the group of math majors had only one ticket for their group. They started snickering at the engineers, for the whole group of engineers had no tickets amongst them. Then, the engineer lookout said "Conductor coming!". All the engineers went into one bathroom. All the math majors went into another bathroom. Then, before the conductor came on board the car, one of the engineers left the bathroom, knocked on the other bathroom, and said "ticket please."
If one assigns a numerical value to each letter of the alphabet accordingly:
| A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
Then:
| H | A | R | D | W | O | R | K |
| 8 | 1 | 18 | 4 | 23 | 15 | 18 | 11 |
| K | N | O | W | L | E | D | G | E |
| 11 | 14 | 15 | 23 | 12 | 5 | 4 | 7 | 5 |
But,
| A | T | T | I | T | U | D | E |
| 1 | 20 | 20 | 9 | 20 | 21 | 4 | 5 |
However,
| B | U | L | L | S | H | I | T |
| 2 | 21 | 12 | 12 | 19 | 8 | 9 | 20 |
Therefore, it stands to reason that hard work and knowledge will get you close, but attitude and bullshit will put you over the top.
Do you know how they make these gloves?" he asked. "No, I don't" she replied. "Well," he spoofed, "there's a building in China with a big tank of latex. Workers of all hand sizes walk up to the tank, dip in their hands, let them dry, then peel off the gloves and throw them into boxes of the right size."
She didn't crack a smile. "Oh well, I tried," he thought. But five minutes later, during a delicate portion of the dental procedure, she burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
She said, "I was just picturing how condoms are made!"
Baffled, Robert takes Paul aside. "I don't understand why I was rejected. When Mr. Armstrong asked me why I became a lawyer, I said that I had the greatest respect for the law, that I'd lay down my life for the Constitution and that all I wanted was to do right by my clients. What in the world did you tell him?"
"I said I became a lawyer because of my hands," Robert replies. "I told him I took a close look at them one day and discovered there wasn't any money in either one of them."
A crow was sitting on a tree, doing nothing all day. A small rabbit saw the crow, and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing all day long?"
The crow answered: "Sure, why not."
So the rabbit sat on the ground below the crow, and rested. All of a sudden a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit, and ate it.
Management Lesson: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.
A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy." "Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?" replied the bull. They're packed with Nutrients."
The turkey pecked at a lump of dung and found that it actually gave him enough strength to reach the first branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.
Finally after a fortnight, there he was proudly perched at the top of the Tree, where he was soon spotted by a farmer who promptly shot the turkey out of the tree.
Management Lesson: Bullshit might get you to the top but it won't keep you there.
When the body was first made, all the parts wanted to be Boss. The brain said, "I should be Boss because I control the whole body's responses and functions."
The feet said, "We should be Boss as we carry the brain about and get him to where he wants to go."
The hands said, "We should be the Boss because we do all the work and earn all the money."
And so it went on and on with the heart, the lungs and the eyes until finally the asshole spoke up. All the parts laughed at the idea of the asshole being the Boss.
So the asshole went on strike, blocked itself up and refused to work. Within a short time the eyes became crossed, the hands clenched, the feet twitched, the heart and lungs began to panic and the brain fevered. Eventually they all decided that the asshole should be the Boss, so the motion was passed. All the other parts did all the work while the Boss just sat and passed out the shit!
Management Lesson: You don't need brains to be a Boss -- any asshole will do.
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold, the bird froze and fell to the ground in a large field. While it was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on it. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, it began to realize how warm it was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him!
Management Lesson:
1) Not everyone who drops shit on you is your enemy.
2) Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
3) And when you're in deep shit, keep your mouth shut!
University of Illinois at Chicago
Notice
Beginning May 1, 1999, handguns will be issued to all Emergency Room Personnel, along with the following instructions for their use. Henceforth, patients may be shot, but only after a careful history has been taken and one (or more) of the following criteria have been met:
1. Patient was caught committing a violent crime and was not sufficiently beaten by the police.
2. Patient was caught committing RAPE or CHILD MOLESTING and was not permanently sterilized or paralyzed by the victim and/or their family (document victim participation as "restorative therapy").
3. Patient comes to the ER by ambulance for suture removal or pain prescription refill. (There will be a study as to the effectiveness of this being done "in the field").
4. Five members of the ER staff or two physicians (only one needs to be licensed to practice - MS4s are acceptable) certify the patient is a dirtball. Only two staff members or one physician is needed if the patient has propositioned any member of the staff for sexual favors.
5. Patient reports to the ER at 3:00 A.M. for an injury that occurred more than 6 days ago. The time limit is lowered to 2 days if the patient has arrived on the advice of their attorney to be "checked-out" after a car accident.
6. Maggot count is numerically higher than blood count.
7. The patient's BAC is greater than 5 times their IQ and they know all of the ER staff on a first name basis.
8. The patient is spitting or screaming and has a positive tattoo-to-tooth ratio.
9. Patient wants a new cast because the old cast melted when 6 bottles of cheap wine spilled on it or it was broken in a fight.
10. Heroin needle broke off in arm.
11. Patient was arrested on outstanding warrants and suddenly remembers an injury that requires immediate hospitalization. (Post-accident DUI arrests will be considered in lieu of warrants if there were other people injured in the accident.)
12. Patient speaks no English until discharged without pain medication, then uses a 4-letter words or other derogatory English lingo.
13. Patient insists on pain medication for a non-discernible injury, then states they are allergic to everything except Demerol and their family doctor is "out of town" or that they themselves are "on vacation".
14. The parent of a pediatric patient who suffers from a lack of food, shelter or love related to that parent's drug or dating habits may be shot to prevent further reproduction. Please contact the county health department as this is considered a preventative public health measure.
No patients are to be shot without first notifying Urology and Ophthalmology for possible organ donations.
All dirtballs must be shot in the contamination room.
Patients may be kept in ER longer than 30 minutes but no longer than 4 hours prior to being shot.
Target area is at discretion of the ER team unless the patient has groped a staff member or meets criterion #2 (above), in which case only areas certain to be significantly painful and debilitating are acceptable. Fatal wounds are in no way discouraged.
The procedure will be documented as "Inter-[insert body part here] Pb injection as treatment for chronic uselessness or acute wasting of space related to insufficient gene pool depth". Any individuals stupid enough to admit a familial relationship to the patient will be billed accordingly
See Angie in transcription for the proper billing codes.
The next day, right below the first sign, someone had carefully lettered another sign which read:
So after it's over we're backstage interviewing the grand high rahrah poobah and while reporter's scribbling notes, poobah decides to get the photographer involved; somewhere in his notes is something about making all the participants feel like part of "the team"...
"So... what's your reaction?"
"Umm... I really don't hear a lot when I'm shooting; I'm concentrating on the pictures."
"C'mon, we're all friends here." (Never met the guy ten minutes ago, he doesn't even know my name but suddenly we're friends and teammates...) "What are you taking home from this morning?"
"Bunch of pictures of people ranting and raving."
"But.. the message?"
(Okay, I've tried, Goddess knows I've tried. If you force me to pull the trigger you get both barrels.)
"The message? It's 50% deflection, 50% misdirection, and 100% bullshit. These people you're working with here... they have motivational problems because they were hired to do good jobs and nobody told them going in that their managers and bosses were threatened by employees who do good jobs and would do everything they could to stop them. These folks paid good money, a LOT of good money, to get a peptalk from the coach, and nobody got around to telling them that the other team is made up of ringers, their waterboys have been paid to spike the Gatorade, the umpires were bought off by the other side, the goal posts are on rollers and the scoreboard's rigged.
"They don't need motivational speakers, they need decent managers who'll give them what they need to do their jobs and then get the fuck out of the way while they DO them.
"And if you were worth a thousandth of what they're paying, you'd tell them that... because they go away from here thinking that they're the ones who have it wrong, and mostly they're the only ones who have the slightest clue what getting it right IS."
<crickets>
<wait>
</crickets>
I had to go shoot another story.
Okay, the people I work with at the paper? Mostly morons with a few imbeciles thrown in for variety... but out in the field, this job has its moments. It truly DOES have its moments.
(Reporter hasn't spoken to me since. Job also gots its fringe bennies.)
--R. Clayton McKee, 08 Jul 2005
RABBIT STORY (Author Unknown)
One sunny day a rabbit came out of her hole in the ground to enjoy the fine weather. The day was so nice that she became careless and a fox snuck up behind her and caught her.
"I am going to eat you for lunch!", said the fox.
"Wait!" replied the rabbit, "You should at least wait a few days."
"Oh yeah? Why should I wait?"
"Well, I am just finishing my thesis on 'The Superiority of Rabbits over Foxes and Wolves.'"
"Are you crazy? I should eat you right now! Everybody knows that a fox will always win over a rabbit."
"Not really, not according to my research. If you like, you can come into my hole and read it for yourself. If you are not convinced, you can go ahead and have me for lunch."
"You really are crazy!"
But since the fox was curious and had nothing to lose, it went with the rabbit. The fox never came out. A few days later the rabbit was again taking a break from writing and sure enough, a wolf came out of the bushes and was ready to set upon her.
"Wait!" yelled the rabbit, "you can't eat me right now."
"And why might that be, my furry little appetizer?"
"I am almost finished writing my thesis on 'The Superiority of Rabbits over Foxes and Wolves.'"
The wolf laughed so hard that it almost lost its grip on the rabbit. "Maybe I shouldn't eat you; you really are sick . . . in the head. You might have something contagious."
"Come and read it for yourself; you can eat me afterward if you disagree with my conclusions." So the wolf went down into the rabbit's hole . . . and never came out.
The rabbit finished her thesis and was out celebrating in the local lettuce patch. Another rabbit came along and asked, "What's up? You seem very happy."
"Yup, I just finished my thesis."
"Congratulations. What's it about?"
"'The Superiority of Rabbits over Foxes and Wolves.'"
"Are you sure? That doesn't sound right."
"Oh yes. Come and read it for yourself."
So together they went down into the rabbit's hole. As they entered, the friend saw the typical graduate abode, albeit a rather messy one, which made sense when you considered that she had been writing her thesis. The computer with the controversial work was in one corner. And to the right there was a pile of fox bones, on the left a pile of wolf bones. And in the middle was a large, well-fed lion.
The moral of the story: The title of your thesis doesn't matter. The subject of your thesis doesn't matter. The research doesn't matter. All that matters is who your advisor is.
He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialed the subscriber's house. The phone didn't ring right away, but then the dog moaned loudly and the telephone began to ring.
Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman found:
1. The dog was tied to the telephone system's ground wire via a steel chain and collar.
2. The wire connection to the ground rod was loose.
3. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current when the phone number was called.
4. After a couple of such jolts, the dog would start moaning and then urinate on himself and the ground.
5. The wet ground would complete the circuit, thus causing the phone to ring.
Which demonstrates that some problems CAN be fixed by pissing and moaning.
"All right," said the farmer. "I have a hired man. Been with me for three years. I pay him $600 a week, plus room and board. I have a cook. She's been here six months. She gets $500 a week plus room and board."
"Anybody else?" asked the agent as he scribbled on a note pad.
"Yeah," the farmer said. "There's a half-wit here. Works about eighteen hours a day. I pay him ten dollars a week and give him chewing tobacco."
"Ah HA!" the agent roared. "I want to talk to that half-wit!"
The farmer spit out some tobacco then said, "You're talkin' to him now."
It has been brought to management's attention that some individuals throughout the company have been using foul language during the course of normal conversation with their co-workers. Due to complaints received from some employees who may be easily offended, this type of language will no longer be tolerated. We do however, realize the critical importance of being able to accurately express your feelings when communicating with co-workers. Therefore, a list of 18 New and Innovative "TRY SAYING" phrases have been provided so that proper exchange of ideas and information can continue in an effective manner.
1) TRY SAYING: I think you could use more training.
INSTEAD OF: You don't know what the fuck you're doing.
2) TRY SAYING: She's an aggressive go-getter.
INSTEAD OF: She's a ball-busting bitch.
3) TRY SAYING: Perhaps I can work late.
INSTEAD OF: And when the fuck do you expect me to do this?
4) TRY SAYING: I'm certain that isn't feasible.
INSTEAD OF: No fucking way.
5) TRY SAYING: Really?
INSTEAD OF: You've got to be shiting kidding me!
6) TRY SAYING: Perhaps you should check with...
INSTEAD OF: Tell someone who gives a shit.
7) TRY SAYING: I wasn't involved in the project.
INSTEAD OF: It's not my fucking problem.
8) TRY SAYING: That's interesting.
INSTEAD OF: What the fuck?
9) TRY SAYING: I'm not sure this can be implemented.
INSTEAD OF: This shit won't work.
10) TRY SAYING: I'll try to schedule that.
INSTEAD OF: Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner?
11) TRY SAYING: He's not familiar with the issues.
INSTEAD OF: He's got his head up his fucking ass.
12) TRY SAYING: Excuse me, sir?
INSTEAD OF: Eat shit and die.
13) TRY SAYING: So you weren't happy with it?
INSTEAD OF: Kiss my fucking ass..
14) TRY SAYING: I'm a bit overloaded at the moment.
INSTEAD OF: fuck it, I'm on salary.
15) TRY SAYING: I don't think you understand.
INSTEAD OF: Shove it up your fucking ass.
16) TRY SAYING: I love a challenge.
INSTEAD OF: This job fucking sucks.
17) TRY SAYING: You want me to take care of that?
INSTEAD OF: Who the shit died and made you boss?
18) TRY SAYING: He's somewhat insensitive.
INSTEAD OF: He's a fucking prick.
Thank You, Human Resources
The surgeon paused, smiled, then leaned over and whispered to the mechanic, . . . "Try doing it with the engine running."
The first said, "I think accountants are the easiest to operate on. You open them up and everything inside is numbered."
The second said, "I think librarians are the easiest to operate on. You open them up and everything inside is in alphabetical order."
The third said, "I like to operate on electricians, You open them up and everything inside is colour-coded."
The fourth one said, "I like to operate on lawyers. They're heartless, spineless, gutless, and their heads and their ass are interchangeable."
"Yes," answered the Rabbi.
"Well, Rabbi, what do you do with the candle drippings?" he asked.
"A good question," noted the Rabbi. "We actually save them up. When we have enough, we send them back to the candle maker and every now and then, they send us a free box of candles."
"Oh," replied the auditor somewhat disappointed that his question actually had a practical answer. So he thought he'd try another question, in his obnoxious way... "Rabbi, what about all these matzo purchases? What do you do with the crumbs from the matzo?"
"Ah, yes," replied the Rabbi calmly, "we actually collect up the crumbs, we send them in a box back to the manufacturer and every now and then, they send a free box of matzo balls."
"Oh," replied the auditor, thinking hard how to fluster the Rabbi. "Well, Rabbi," he went on, "what do you do with all the foreskins from the circumcisions?"
"Yes, here too, we do not waste," answered the Rabbi. "What we do is save up all the foreskins, and when we have enough we actually send them to the Internal Revenue Service."
"Internal Revenue Service?" questioned the auditor in disbelief.
"Ah, yes," replied the Rabbi, "Internal Revenue Service. And every two or 3 years, they send us a little prick like you."
Q. Officer, did you see my client fleeing the scene?
A. No sir, but I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender running several blocks away.
Q. Officer, who provided this description?
A. The officer who responded to the scene.
Q. A fellow officer provided the description of this so-called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers? A. Yes sir, with my life.
Q. With your life? Well then, let me ask you this officer: do you have a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?
A. Yes sir, we do.
Q. And do you have a locker in that room?
A. Yes sir, I do.
Q. And do you have a lock on your locker?
A. Yes sir. We all have locks on our lockers.
Q. Now why is it, officer, if you trust your fellow officers with your LIFE, that you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with those same officers?
A. Well, sir -- we share the building with the entire court complex, and lawyers are always seen walking through the locker room.
(Actual letter):
"Upon review of your letter adjoining your client's loan application, we note that the request is supported by an Abstract of Title. While we compliment the able manner in which you have prepared and presented the application, we must point out that you have only cleared title to the proposed collateral property back to 1803.
Before final approval can be accorded, it will be necessary to clear the title back to its origin."
Annoyed, the lawyer responded as follows:
(Actual Letter):
"Your letter, regarding title in Case No.189156, has been received.
I note that you wish to have title extended further than the 194 years covered by the present application. I was unaware that any educated person in this country, particularly those working in the property area, would not know that Louisiana was purchased, by the U.S., from France in 1803, the year of origin identified in our application.
For the edification of uninformed FHA bureaucrats, the title to the land prior to U.S. ownership was obtained from France, which had acquired it by Right of Conquest from Spain.
The land came into the possession of Spain by Right of Discovery made in the year 1492 by a sea captain named Christopher Columbus, who had been granted the privilege of seeking a new route to India by the Spanish monarch, Isabella. The good queen, Isabella, being a pious woman and almost as careful about titles as the FHA, took the precaution of securing the blessing of the Pope before she sold her jewels to finance Columbus' expedition.
Now the Pope, as I'm sure you may know, is the emissary of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and God, it is commonly accepted, created this world.
Therefore, I believe it is safe to presume that God also made that part of the world called Louisiana. God, therefore, would be the owner of origin and His origins date back, to before the beginning of time, the world as we know it AND the FHA. I hope you find God's original claim to be satisfactory. Now, may we have our loan?"
The loan was approved.
Thanks to Roy Reed
A dedicated union worker was attending a convention in Las Vegas and, as you would expect, decided to check out the local brothels nearby. When he got to the first one, he asked the madam, "Is this a union house?"
"No," she replied, "I'm sorry it isn't."
"Well, if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?"
"The house gets $80, and the girls get $20."
Mightily offended at such unfair dealings, the man stomped off down t he street in search of a more equitable, hopefully unionized, shop. His search continued until finally he reached a brothel where the madam responded, "Why yes sir, this IS a union house."
The man asked, "And if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?"
"The girls get $80, and the house gets $20."
"That's more like it!" the UPS man said. He looked around the room and pointed to a stunningly attractive blonde. "I'd like her for the night."
"I'm sure you would, sir," said the madam, then gestured toward an obese fifty-five year old woman in the corner. "But Ethel here has seniority."
We have done so much for so long with so little
We are now qualified to do anything with nothing.
--Anonymous, circa 1960s
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