<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:18:54.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny shit</title><subtitle type='html'>The funniest jokes around</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>106</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-315078804425330484</id><published>2008-11-10T00:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T00:28:55.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Church Organist</title><content type='html'>Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And had never been married. &lt;br /&gt;She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all.. &lt;br /&gt;One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room. &lt;br /&gt;She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. &lt;br /&gt;As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister &lt;br /&gt;noticed a cute glass bowl sitting on top of it. &lt;br /&gt;The bowl was filled with water, and in the water &lt;br /&gt;floated, of all things, a condom! &lt;br /&gt;When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat. &lt;br /&gt;The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist. &lt;br /&gt;'Miss Beatrice', he said, 'I wonder if you would tell me about this?' &lt;br /&gt;pointing to the bowl. &lt;br /&gt;'Oh, yes,' she replied, 'Isn't it wonderful? I was walking through the Park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease. Do you know I haven't had the flu all winter!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-315078804425330484?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/315078804425330484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=315078804425330484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/315078804425330484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/315078804425330484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/11/church-organist.html' title='The Church Organist'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-6053520292352967154</id><published>2008-11-09T00:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T00:45:22.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>global crisis</title><content type='html'>If the global crisis continues, by the end of the year ,  only two Banks will be operational :  the Blood Bank and the Sperm Bank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then these 2 banks will merge and it will be called "The Bloody Fucking Bank"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-6053520292352967154?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6053520292352967154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=6053520292352967154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6053520292352967154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6053520292352967154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/11/global-crisis.html' title='global crisis'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-1263926746159073209</id><published>2008-09-10T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T23:38:15.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Punny stuff</title><content type='html'>1. The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference.  He acquired his size from too much pi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 3. She was only a whisky maker, but he loved her still.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 5. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 6. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 7. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 8. A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 9. Two silk worms had a race.  They ended up in a tie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 10. Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 11. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall.  The police are looking into it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 12. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 13. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway.  One hat said to the other, 'You stay here, I'll go on a-head.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 14. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger.  Then it hit me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 15. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: 'Keep off the Grass.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 16. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital.  When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, a nurse said, 'No change yet.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 17. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 19. The short fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium, at large.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 20. The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 21. A backward poet writes in-verse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 22. In democracy it's your vote that counts.  In feudalism it's your count that votes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 23. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 24. Don't join dangerous cults, practice safe sects!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-1263926746159073209?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1263926746159073209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=1263926746159073209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1263926746159073209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1263926746159073209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/09/punny-stuff.html' title='Punny stuff'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2486260238032008110</id><published>2008-09-04T01:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T01:24:52.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Golfing Accident</title><content type='html'>Golfing Accident'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two women were playing golf. One teed off and watched in &lt;br /&gt;horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men &lt;br /&gt;playing the next hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his &lt;br /&gt;hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded &lt;br /&gt;to roll around in agony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began &lt;br /&gt;to apologize. 'Please allow me to help. I'm a Physical Therapist &lt;br /&gt;and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow me,' she told &lt;br /&gt;him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oh, no, I'll be all right. I'll be fine in a few minutes,' the man &lt;br /&gt;replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, &lt;br /&gt;still clasping his hands together at his groin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. &lt;br /&gt;She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, &lt;br /&gt;loosened his pants and put her hands inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She administered tender and artful massage for several &lt;br /&gt;long moments and asked, 'How does that feel'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied: 'It feels great, but I think my thumb's still broken.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2486260238032008110?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2486260238032008110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2486260238032008110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2486260238032008110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2486260238032008110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/09/golfing-accident.html' title='Golfing Accident'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2318650969760510662</id><published>2008-08-23T23:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T23:39:51.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confucious Say</title><content type='html'>CONFUCIOUS SAY-HERE IS SOME TRUELY GREAT ADVICE FOR ALL MY USUAL READERS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me for the path is narrow. In fact, just **** off and leave me alone. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. Sex is like air. It's not important unless you aren't getting any. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. No one is listening until you fart. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. Always remember you're unique. Just like everyone else. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. Never test the depth of the water with both feet. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. If you think nobody cares whether you're alive or dead, try missing a couple of mortgage payments. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;7. Before you criticise someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticise them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10. If you lend someone £20 and never see that person again, it was probably well worth it. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;12. Some days you are the bug; some days you are the windscreen. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;13. Don't worry; it only seems kinky the first time. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;14. Good judgment comes from bad experience, and most of that comes from bad judgment. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;15. A closed mouth gathers no foot. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;16. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;17. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;18. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;19. We are born naked, wet and hungry, and get slapped on our ass ...then things just get worse. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;20. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2318650969760510662?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2318650969760510662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2318650969760510662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2318650969760510662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2318650969760510662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/08/confucious-say.html' title='Confucious Say'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2208572378693594034</id><published>2008-07-02T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T02:58:08.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women in her fifties</title><content type='html'>A woman, in her fifties, is at home happily jumping unclothed on her bed and squealing with delight. Her husband watches her for a while and asks, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look? What's the matter with you?" The woman continues to bounce on the bed and says, "I don't care what you think. I just came from having a mammogram and the doctor says that not only am I healthy but I have the breasts of an 18 year old." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replies, "What did he say about your 55 year old ass?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Your name never came up," she replied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2208572378693594034?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2208572378693594034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2208572378693594034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2208572378693594034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2208572378693594034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/07/women-in-her-fifties.html' title='Women in her fifties'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-270060619958082861</id><published>2008-07-02T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T02:48:08.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>retired sailor</title><content type='html'>An old retired sailor puts on his old uniform and heads to the docks once&lt;br /&gt;   more for old times' sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   He engages a prostitute and takes her up to a room. He's soon going at it&lt;br /&gt;   as well as he can for a guy his age, but needing some reassurance, he&lt;br /&gt;   asks, ' How am I doing '?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The prostitute replies, 'Well old sailor, you're doing about 3 knots'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Three knots he asks, 'What's that suppose to mean ?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   She says, 'You're knot hard, you're knot in, and you're knot getting your&lt;br /&gt;   money back !'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-270060619958082861?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/270060619958082861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=270060619958082861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/270060619958082861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/270060619958082861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/07/retired-sailor.html' title='retired sailor'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-4756917554803295854</id><published>2008-06-29T04:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T04:54:17.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mafia</title><content type='html'>An old Italian Mafia Don is dying and he calls for his&lt;br /&gt;grandson to approach the bed;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lissin' a me. I wanna for you to taka my&lt;br /&gt;chrome-plated 38-caliber revolver,  so you will always&lt;br /&gt;remember me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grandson smiles weakly and replies; "But grandpa,&lt;br /&gt;I really donna a lika guns.  Howzabout you leava me&lt;br /&gt;you a ROLEXa watch inastead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gasping for air the old man answers with a snarl in&lt;br /&gt;his voice; "Shuddup an a  lissin'. Somma day, you&lt;br /&gt;gonna runna da business You gonna have a beautifula&lt;br /&gt;wife, lotsa money, a biga home, and maybe a coupla&lt;br /&gt;bambinos."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a slight pause to catch his breath he continues;&lt;br /&gt;"Somma day, you gonna  comma home, and maybe find you&lt;br /&gt;wife inna bed with another man.  Whadda you gonna do&lt;br /&gt;the guy? ... pointa to you watch and say "Times up"?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-4756917554803295854?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/4756917554803295854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=4756917554803295854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/4756917554803295854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/4756917554803295854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/06/mafia.html' title='Mafia'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-9003063629950122885</id><published>2008-06-18T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T00:16:01.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Replacement Windows</title><content type='html'>Dear Jack, &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Re: Replacement Windows&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Last year I replaced all the windows in  my house  with those  expensive, double-pane energy-efficient kind.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I got a call from the contractor who installed them. He was complaining that the windows had  been  installed a whole year ago and I had not paid for them yet.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now just because I'm blonde doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So I told him just exactly what his fast-talking sales guy had told ME last year...namely, that in just ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Helllooooo'? (I told him). It's been a year'!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up....&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He hasn't called back, probably too embarrassed about forgetting the guarantee they made me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Bet he won't underestimate a blonde anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-9003063629950122885?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/9003063629950122885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=9003063629950122885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/9003063629950122885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/9003063629950122885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/06/replacement-windows.html' title='Replacement Windows'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2327738296360496974</id><published>2008-05-18T06:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T06:32:51.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Commandments</title><content type='html'>This is the little-known tale of how God came to give the Jews the &lt;br /&gt;Ten Commandments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God first went to the Egyptians and asked them if they would like a &lt;br /&gt;commandment. "What's a commandment?" they asked. "Well, it's like, &lt;br /&gt;THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY," replied God. The Egyptians thought &lt;br /&gt;about it and then said, "No way. That would ruin our weekends."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then God went to the Assyrians and asked them if they would like a &lt;br /&gt;commandment. They also asked, "What's a commandment?" "Well," said &lt;br /&gt;God, "it's like, THOU SHALT NOT STEAL." The Assyrians immediately &lt;br /&gt;replied, "No way. That would ruin our economy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So finally God went to the Jews and asked them if they wanted a &lt;br /&gt;commandment. They asked, "How much?" God said, "They're free." The &lt;br /&gt;Jews said, "Great! We'll take TEN!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2327738296360496974?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2327738296360496974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2327738296360496974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2327738296360496974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2327738296360496974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/05/10-commandments.html' title='10 Commandments'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-3046599741763794624</id><published>2008-05-14T03:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T03:05:09.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monks</title><content type='html'>A young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to helping the other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not from the original manuscript. So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The head monk, says, 'We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery w here the original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn't been opened for hundreds of years. Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him. He sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing . &lt;br /&gt;'We missed the R ! &lt;br /&gt;We missed the R ! &lt;br /&gt;We missed the R !' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably. The young monk asks the old abbot, 'What's wrong, father?' &lt;br /&gt;With a choking voice, the old abbot replies, 'The word was..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CELEB RATE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-3046599741763794624?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/3046599741763794624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=3046599741763794624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3046599741763794624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3046599741763794624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/05/monks.html' title='Monks'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-1852621987084745687</id><published>2008-04-26T23:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T23:15:03.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Time</title><content type='html'>A girl asks her boyfriend to come over Friday &lt;br /&gt;night to meet, and have dinner with her parents. Since this is such a big event, the girl announces to her boyfriend that after dinner, she would like to go out and make love for the first time .  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex &lt;br /&gt;before, so he takes a trip to the pharmacist to &lt;br /&gt;get some condoms. He tells the pharmacist it's his first time and the pharmacist helps the boy for about an hour.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tells the boy everything there is to know about condoms and sex. At the register, the pharmacist asks the boy how many condoms he'd like to buy, a 3-pack, 10-pack, or family pack. The boy insists on the family pack because he thinks he will be rather busy, it being his first time and all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, the boy shows up at the girl's parents house and meets his girlfriend at the door. 'Oh, I'm so excited for you to meet my parents, come on in! ' The boy goes inside and is taken to the dinner &lt;br /&gt;table where the girl's parents are seated. The boy quickly offers to say grace and bows his head.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minute passes, and the boy is still deep in prayer, with his head down. 10 minutes pass, and still no movement from the boy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after 20 minutes with his head down, the girlfriend leans over and whispers to the boyfriend, 'I had no idea you were this religious.' &lt;br /&gt;The boy turns, and whispers back, 'I had no idea your father was a pharmacist.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-1852621987084745687?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1852621987084745687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=1852621987084745687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1852621987084745687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1852621987084745687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/04/first-time.html' title='First Time'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-6749736239742931910</id><published>2008-03-29T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T23:34:21.254-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The World's Shortest Fairy Tale</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"&lt;br /&gt;The girl said: "NO!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, camping,&lt;br /&gt;drank martinis, ate chocolate, always had a clean house, never had to cook, &lt;br /&gt;did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled&lt;br /&gt;more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself.&lt;br /&gt;She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy&lt;br /&gt;lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled,&lt;br /&gt;felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt; _________________________________________________________________&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-6749736239742931910?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6749736239742931910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=6749736239742931910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6749736239742931910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6749736239742931910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/worlds-shortest-fairy-tale.html' title='The World&apos;s Shortest Fairy Tale'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2437802384953054820</id><published>2008-03-26T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T06:36:50.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter</title><content type='html'>Every year, just before Easter, the Chief Rabbi in Rome goes to the&lt;br /&gt;Vatican and presents an ancient, and by now quite tattered &lt;br /&gt;envelope to the Pope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope inspects the envelope, shakes his head, and hands it back to the Chief Rabbi, who then departs. &lt;br /&gt;This has been going on for nearly two thousand years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year recently, it happened that there was a new Pope and a new Chief Rabbi. &lt;br /&gt;When the Chief Rabbi presented the ancient envelope to the Pope, as he had been instructed to do by his predecessor, the Pope looked it over and handed it back &lt;br /&gt;as he had been told to, in turn, by his predecessor...but then &lt;br /&gt;the Pope said, "This is an unusual ritual.I don't understand it. &lt;br /&gt;What is in this envelope?" "Damned if I know," answered the Chief Rabbi.&lt;br /&gt; "I'm new here myself. But, hey, let's open it and find out."&lt;br /&gt;"Good idea," said the Pope    &lt;br /&gt;So together, they slowly and carefully opened the envelope.&lt;br /&gt;And do you know what they found?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The caterer's bill for the Last Supper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_G25sTsjWa1M/R-pLsQkIv7I/AAAAAAAAANA/jqXYz1OJ9jw/s1600-h/!cid_000a01c88da7%24fe952060%246501a8c0%40hellenl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_G25sTsjWa1M/R-pLsQkIv7I/AAAAAAAAANA/jqXYz1OJ9jw/s320/!cid_000a01c88da7%24fe952060%246501a8c0%40hellenl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182037544976039858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2437802384953054820?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2437802384953054820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2437802384953054820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2437802384953054820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2437802384953054820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/easter.html' title='Easter'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_G25sTsjWa1M/R-pLsQkIv7I/AAAAAAAAANA/jqXYz1OJ9jw/s72-c/!cid_000a01c88da7%24fe952060%246501a8c0%40hellenl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-6232738332830504439</id><published>2008-03-26T06:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T06:07:22.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worse Age</title><content type='html'>"Sixty is the worse age to be," said the 60-year-old man. "You always feel like you have to pee and most of the time you stand there and nothing comes out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, that's nothin'," said the 70-year-old. "When you're seventy, you don't have a bowel movement any more. You take laxatives, eat bran, and sit on the toilet all day and nothin' comes out!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Actually," said the 80-year-old, "Eighty is the worst age of all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have trouble peeing, too?" asked the 60-year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I pee every morning at 6:00. I pee like a racehorse on a flat rock; no problem at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So do you have a problem with your bowel movement?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I have one every morning at 6:30."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exasperated, the 60-year-old said, "You pee every morning at 6:00 and crap every morning at 6:30. So what's so bad about being 80?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't wake up until 7:00."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-6232738332830504439?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6232738332830504439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=6232738332830504439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6232738332830504439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6232738332830504439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/worse-age.html' title='The Worse Age'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-405772196101351994</id><published>2008-03-20T06:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T06:58:35.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IRISH ALZHEIMER'S</title><content type='html'>Murphy showed up at Mass one Sunday and the priest almost fell down when&lt;br /&gt;he saw him.  Murphy had never been seen in church in his life.&lt;br /&gt;  After Mass, the priest caught up with Murphy and said, "Murphy, I am so&lt;br /&gt;glad you decided to come to Mass, what made you come?"&lt;br /&gt;  Murphy said, "I got to be honest with you Father, a while back, I&lt;br /&gt;  misplaced me hat and I really, really love that hat.    I know that&lt;br /&gt;McGlynn had a hat just like me hat, and I knew that McGlynn came to  church&lt;br /&gt;every  Sunday.   I also knew that McGlynn had to take off his hat during&lt;br /&gt;Mass and figured he would leave it in the back of church. so,  I was going&lt;br /&gt;to leave after Communion and steal McGlynn's hat."&lt;br /&gt;  The priest said, "Well, Murphy, I notice that you didn't steal McGlynn's&lt;br /&gt;hat. What changed your mind?"&lt;br /&gt;  Murphy said, "Well, after I heard your sermon on the 10 Commandments, I&lt;br /&gt;decided that I didn't need to steal McGlynn's hat."&lt;br /&gt;  The priest gave Murphy a big smile and said; "After I talked about 'Thou&lt;br /&gt;Shalt Not Steal' you decided you would rather do without your hat than  Burn&lt;br /&gt;in Hell, right ?"&lt;br /&gt;  Murphy shook his head and said, "No, Father, after you talked about  'Thou&lt;br /&gt;Shalt Not Commit Adultery' I remembered where I left me hat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-405772196101351994?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/405772196101351994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=405772196101351994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/405772196101351994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/405772196101351994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/irish-alzheimers.html' title='IRISH ALZHEIMER&apos;S'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-3200602549290929315</id><published>2008-03-08T02:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T02:22:24.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'>condoms at Walmart</title><content type='html'>A man was in a long line at Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;As he got to the register he realized&lt;br /&gt;he had forgotten to get condoms, so&lt;br /&gt;he asked the checkout girl if she could&lt;br /&gt;have some brought up to the register.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked, 'What size condoms?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer replied that he didn't&lt;br /&gt;know. She asked him to drop his pants.&lt;br /&gt;He did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She reached over the counter, grabbed&lt;br /&gt;hold of him and called over the intercom,&lt;br /&gt;'One box of large condoms, Register 5.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next man in line thought this was&lt;br /&gt;interesting, and like most of us, was up&lt;br /&gt;for a cheap thrill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got up to the register, he&lt;br /&gt;told the checker that he too had&lt;br /&gt;forgotten to get condoms, and asked&lt;br /&gt;if she could have some brought to the&lt;br /&gt;register for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked him what size, and he stated&lt;br /&gt;that he didn't know. She asked him to&lt;br /&gt;drop his pants. He did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave him a quick feel, picked up&lt;br /&gt;the intercom and said, 'One box of&lt;br /&gt;medium-sized condoms, Register 5.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few customers back was this teenage&lt;br /&gt;boy. He thought what he had seen was&lt;br /&gt;way too cool. He had never had any type&lt;br /&gt;of sexual contact with a live female, so&lt;br /&gt;he thought this was his chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got to the register he told the&lt;br /&gt;checker he needed some condoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked him what size and he said&lt;br /&gt;he didn't know.? She asked him to drop&lt;br /&gt;his pants and he did. She reached over&lt;br /&gt;the counter, gave him a quick squeeze,&lt;br /&gt;then picked up the intercom and said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cleanup, Register 5'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-3200602549290929315?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/3200602549290929315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=3200602549290929315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3200602549290929315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3200602549290929315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/man-was-in-long-line-at-walmart.html' title='condoms at Walmart'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-1857887400320163036</id><published>2008-03-02T02:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T02:13:06.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Undies are Important</title><content type='html'>Always wear clean underwear in public, especially when working under your vehicle...From the Northwest Florida Daily News comes this story of a Crestview couple who drove their car to Wal-Mart, only to have their car break down in the parking lot.  The man told his wife to carry on with the shopping while he fixed the car in the lot.  The wife returned later to see a small group of people near the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On closer inspection, she saw a pair of male legs protruding from under the chassis.  Although the man was in shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts into glaringly public ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward, quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into place.  On regaining her feet, she looked across the hood and found herself staring  at her husband who was standing idly by. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-1857887400320163036?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1857887400320163036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=1857887400320163036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1857887400320163036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1857887400320163036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/undies-are-important.html' title='Undies are Important'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-6292897568560799463</id><published>2008-03-02T01:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T01:42:47.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>putting affairs in order</title><content type='html'>A woman went to her doctor. The doctor, after an examination, sighed and said, "I've some bad news. You have cancer, and you'd best put your affairs in order."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The woman was shocked, but managed to compose herself and walk into the waiting room where her daughter had been waiting.  "Well daughter, we women celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go so well.  In this case, things aren't well.  I have cancer.  Let's head to the club and have a martini."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 3 or 4 martinis, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more martinis. They were eventually approached by some of the woman's old friends, who were curious as to what the two were celebrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman told her friends they were drinking to her impending end. "I've been diagnosed with AIDS." The friends were aghast and gave the woman their condolences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the friends left, the woman's daughter leaned over and whispered, "Momma, I thought you said you were dying of cancer, and you just told your friends you were dying of AIDS."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman said, "I don't want any of those bitches sleeping with your father after I'm gone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's "Putting Your Affairs In Order"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-6292897568560799463?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6292897568560799463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=6292897568560799463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6292897568560799463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6292897568560799463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/putting-affairs-in-order.html' title='putting affairs in order'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-1908140784019487241</id><published>2008-03-01T03:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T03:51:06.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair</title><content type='html'>A Rabbi's son had just gotten his driving permit.&lt;br /&gt;He asked his father about use of the family car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His father said, 'I'll make a deal with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bring your grades up, study your Talmud a little, get your hair&lt;br /&gt;cut and then we'll talk about it.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about a month, the boy came back and again asked his father&lt;br /&gt;about his use of the car.The rabbi said, 'Son, I am very proud of you.&lt;br /&gt;You have brought your grades up, you've studied the Talmud&lt;br /&gt;diligently, but you didn't get your hair cut.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man replied, 'You know Dad, I've been thinking about&lt;br /&gt;that.You know Samson had long hair, Moses had long hair, Noah had long&lt;br /&gt;hair, all the real leaders had long hair.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi said, 'Yes, and everywhere they went, they walked&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-1908140784019487241?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1908140784019487241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=1908140784019487241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1908140784019487241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/1908140784019487241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/03/hair.html' title='Hair'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-8965293860846707352</id><published>2008-02-19T00:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T00:30:44.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Next Life</title><content type='html'>I want to live my next life backwards: You start out dead and get that&lt;br /&gt;out of the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you wake up in a nursing home feeling better every day. Then you&lt;br /&gt;get kicked out for being too healthy. Enjoy your retirement and collect&lt;br /&gt;your pension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when you start work, you get a gold watch on your first day. You&lt;br /&gt;work 40 years until you're too young to work. You get ready for High&lt;br /&gt;School: drink alcohol, party, and you're generally promiscuous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you go to primary school, you become a kid, you play, and you have&lt;br /&gt;no responsibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you become a baby, and then... You spend your last 9 months&lt;br /&gt;floating peacefully in luxury, in Spa-like conditions - central heating,&lt;br /&gt;room service on tap, and then... You finish off as an Orgasm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rest my case..............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-8965293860846707352?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/8965293860846707352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=8965293860846707352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/8965293860846707352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/8965293860846707352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-next-life.html' title='My Next Life'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-5566340770564118959</id><published>2008-02-03T06:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T06:02:05.291-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Balance</title><content type='html'>God was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him, resting on the seventh day.  He inquired, "Where have you been?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God smiled deeply and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds, "Look, Michael. Look what I've made." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, "What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a planet," replied God, "and I've put Life on it. I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to be a place to test Balance." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Balance?" inquired Michael, "I'm still confused."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God explained, pointing to different parts of earth. "For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over there I've placed a continent of white &lt;br /&gt;people, and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things," God continued pointing to different countries. "This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very cold and covered in ice." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Archangel, impressed by God's work, then pointed to a land area and said, "What's that one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's Washington State, the most glorious place on earth. There are beautiful mountains, rivers and streams, lakes, forests, hills, and plains.  The people from Washington State are going to be handsome, modest, intelligent, and humorous, and they are going to travel the world. They will be extremely sociable, hardworking, high achieving, and they will be known throughout the world as diplomats, carriers of peace, and producers of software!." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then asked, "But what about balance, God? You said there would be balance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God smiled, "There is another Washington. Wait till you see the idiots I put there."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-5566340770564118959?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/5566340770564118959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=5566340770564118959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/5566340770564118959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/5566340770564118959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/02/balance.html' title='Balance'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-8419298618974374701</id><published>2008-02-03T05:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T05:40:37.208-08:00</updated><title type='text'>staying sane</title><content type='html'>19 Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair &lt;br /&gt;Dryer At Passing Car s. See If They Slow Down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, ask If They Want Fries with &lt;br /&gt;that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label it "In". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks Once Everyone has Gotten Over &lt;br /&gt;Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write " For Smuggling Diamonds". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Finish All Your sentences with "In Accordance With The Prophecy". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Don't use any punctuation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Sing Along At The Opera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Go To A Poetry Recital. And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area and Play tropical Sounds All &lt;br /&gt;Day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 . Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party &lt;br /&gt;Because &lt;br /&gt;You're Not In the Mood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Bottom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won! I Won!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling &lt;br /&gt;"Run For Your Lives! They're Loose!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner, "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have &lt;br /&gt;To Let One Of You Go."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-8419298618974374701?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/8419298618974374701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=8419298618974374701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/8419298618974374701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/8419298618974374701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/02/staying-sane.html' title='staying sane'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-4575039819836342076</id><published>2008-02-03T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T05:39:36.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aging and Drinking</title><content type='html'>A lady goes to the bar on a cruise ship and orders a Scotch with  two drops of water.&lt;br /&gt;As the bartender gives her the drink she says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I'm on this cruise to celebrate my 80th birthday and it's today..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender says, 'Well, since it's your birthday, I'll buy you a  drink. In fact,&lt;br /&gt;this one is on me'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the woman finishes her drink, the woman to her right says,&lt;br /&gt;'I would like to buy you a drink, too.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old woman says, 'Thank you. Bartender, I want a Scotch with two drops of wa ter.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Coming up,! ' says the bartender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she finishes that drink, the man to her left says,&lt;br /&gt;'I would like to b uy you one, too.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old woman says,&lt;br /&gt;'Thank you. Bartender, I want another Scotch with two drops of water.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Co ming right up,' the bartender says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he gives her the drink, he says, 'Ma'am, I'm dying of curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;Why the Scotch with only two drops of water?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old woman replies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 'Sonny, when you're my age, you've learned how to hold your liquor.&lt;br /&gt; Holding your water, however, is a whole other issue.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-4575039819836342076?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/4575039819836342076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=4575039819836342076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/4575039819836342076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/4575039819836342076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/02/aging-and-drinking.html' title='Aging and Drinking'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-2994663638769275700</id><published>2008-02-03T05:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T05:37:57.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Butler</title><content type='html'>An elderly Jewish couple in London won twenty million pounds on the&lt;br /&gt;lottery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They immediately set out to begin a life of luxury. They bought a &lt;br /&gt;magnificent mansion in Knightsbridge and surrounded themselves with all&lt;br /&gt;the material wealth imaginable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They decided to hire a butler. They found the perfect butler through an &lt;br /&gt;agency, very proper and very British, and brought him back to their &lt;br /&gt;home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after his arrival,he was instructed to set up the dining table&lt;br /&gt;for four, as they were inviting the Cohens to lunch. The couple then &lt;br /&gt;left the house to do some shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they returned, they found the table set for eight. Perplexed, they &lt;br /&gt;asked the butler why it was set for eight when they had expressly asked&lt;br /&gt;him to set it for four. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The butler replied, "The Cohens telephoned and said they were bringing&lt;br /&gt;the Blintzes and the Knishes."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-2994663638769275700?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2994663638769275700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=2994663638769275700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2994663638769275700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/2994663638769275700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/02/butler.html' title='The Butler'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-6654643301041934685</id><published>2008-01-27T00:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T01:00:36.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lab tests</title><content type='html'>The phone rings and the lady of the house answers, "Hello."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Sanders, please."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Speaking." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Sanders, this is Doctor Jones at Saint Agnes Laboratory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your doctor sent your husband's biopsy to the lab yesterday, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well, and we are now uncertain which one is your husband's.Â Frankly the results are either bad or terrible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean?" Mrs. Sanders asks nervously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for AIDS. We can't tell which is your husband's."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's dreadful! Can't you do the test again?" questioned Mrs. Sanders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Normally we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The people at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-6654643301041934685?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6654643301041934685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=6654643301041934685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6654643301041934685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/6654643301041934685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/01/lab-tests.html' title='Lab tests'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-3976076775453118953</id><published>2008-01-24T00:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T00:55:06.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parrots</title><content type='html'>A woman goes to her rabbi with a serious problem. Her two female parrots have picked up a bad habit. Any time she has visitors, the two parrots embarrass her by saying, in unison, "Hi ! We're hookers. Want to have some fun?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To her surprise, the rabbi breaks into a smile, explaining that he has two male parrots which he has trained to pray and who've become very observant, spending much of the day praying in their cage. He's confident that if the woman brings her two parrots over to his house, his two parrots will exert such a positive influence that her birds will turn into model parrots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day the woman drives over to the rabbi'shouse and brings her two parrots into his home. As she looks around, she notices a large cage with two parrots, each wearing a little kippah and tiny tallis (prayer shawl) and each holding a miniature prayer book while they rock back and forth in prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough, as soon as she places her female parrots in the cage, they shout out to their male counterparts: "Hi! We're hookers.Want to have some fun ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the rabbi's parrots immediately turns to the other, squawking:&lt;br /&gt;"Moishe, put the book down. Our prayers have been answered!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-3976076775453118953?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/3976076775453118953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=3976076775453118953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3976076775453118953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/3976076775453118953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2008/01/parrots.html' title='Parrots'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-7405355963145563207</id><published>2007-03-15T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T03:14:21.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bill Gates</title><content type='html'>Bill Gates decides to organize an enormous session of recruitment for a&lt;br /&gt;chairman for Microsoft Europe. The 5000 candidates are all assembled in a&lt;br /&gt;large room. One of the candidates is Maurice Cohen, a little Parisian Jewish &lt;br /&gt;Tunisian. Bill Gates thanks all the candidates for coming and asks that all&lt;br /&gt;those who do not know the program language JAVA rise and leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2000 people rise and leave the room. Maurice Cohen says to himself "I do not &lt;br /&gt;know this language but what have I got to lose if I stay? I'll give it a&lt;br /&gt;try".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill Gates asks all the candidates that those who have never had experience&lt;br /&gt;of team management of more than 100 people rise and leave. 2000 people rise &lt;br /&gt;and leave the room. MauriceCohen says to himself "I have never managed&lt;br /&gt;anybody but myself but what have I got to lose if I stay? What can happen to&lt;br /&gt;me"? So he stays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Bill Gates asks all the candidates who do not have excellent management &lt;br /&gt;diplomas to rise and leave. 500 people rise and leave the room. Maurice&lt;br /&gt;Cohen says to himself "I left school at 15 but what have I got to lose if I&lt;br /&gt;stay? So he stays in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, Bill Gates asks all of the candidates who do not speak Serbo-Croat &lt;br /&gt;to rise and leave. 498 people rise and leave the room. Maurice Cohen says to&lt;br /&gt;himself "I do not speak Serbo-Croat but what the hell !- have I got anything&lt;br /&gt;to lose? " So he stays in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finds himself alone with one other candidate - everyone else has gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill Gates joins them and says : "Apparently you are the only two candidates&lt;br /&gt;who speak Serbo-Croat, so I'd now like to hear you both have a little&lt;br /&gt;conversation in that language? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calmly Maurice turns to the other candidate and says to him: Baroukh ata &lt;br /&gt;Adonai ". The other candidate answers : "Elohenou melekh haolam..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-7405355963145563207?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/7405355963145563207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=7405355963145563207' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/7405355963145563207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/7405355963145563207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2007/03/bill-gates.html' title='Bill Gates'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-116102128236201263</id><published>2006-10-16T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T10:54:42.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Moses in Heaven&lt;br /&gt;Moses died and went to heaven. God greets him at the Pearly Gates. Are You hungry, Moses?" says God. "&lt;br /&gt;I could eat," Moses replies. So God opens a can of tuna and reaches for a chunk of rye bread and they share it.While eating this humble meal, Moses looks down into Hell and sees the inhabitants devouring huge steaks, briskets, pheasants, pastries and wines. Curious, but deeply trusting, he remains quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day God again invites him to join Him for a meal. Again, it's tuna and rye bread. Once again, Moses can see the denizens of Hell enjoying salmon, champagne,lamb, truffles and chocolates. Still he says nothing.The following day, mealtime arrives and another can of tuna is opened. He can't contain himself any longer. Meekly, he says: "God, I am grateful to be in heaven with you as a reward for the pious, obedient life I led. But here in heaven all I get to eat is tuna and a piece of rye bread, and in the Other Place they eat like emperors and kings! I just don't understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God sighs. "Let's be honest," he says. "For just two people, does it pay &lt;br /&gt;to cook?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-116102128236201263?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/116102128236201263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=116102128236201263' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/116102128236201263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/116102128236201263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/10/moses-in-heaven-moses-died-and-went-to.html' title=''/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-116102061555889728</id><published>2006-10-16T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T10:43:35.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dictionary</title><content type='html'>2005 winners are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the&lt;br /&gt;subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  3 Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts  until&lt;br /&gt;you realize it was your money to start with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops&lt;br /&gt;bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows&lt;br /&gt;little sign of breaking down in the near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of&lt;br /&gt;getting laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the&lt;br /&gt;person who doesn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   10. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   11. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 12. Karmageddon: It's when everybody is sending off all these really&lt;br /&gt;bad vibes, and then the Earth explodes and it's a serious bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 13. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day&lt;br /&gt;consuming only things that are good for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  14. Glibido: All talk and no action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 15. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when&lt;br /&gt;they come at you rapidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   16. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after&lt;br /&gt;you've accidentally walked through a spider web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  17. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into&lt;br /&gt;your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   18. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in&lt;br /&gt;the fruit you're eating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-116102061555889728?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/116102061555889728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=116102061555889728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/116102061555889728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/116102061555889728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/10/dictionary.html' title='Dictionary'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114552544055935728</id><published>2006-04-20T02:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T02:30:40.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jewish sex lessons</title><content type='html'>An older Jewish man married a younger woman. After several months, the young woman complained that she had never climaxed during sex and by birthright, all Jewish women are entitled to at least one climax during sex, so they went to see the rabbi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi tells them to get a young, strong, virile young man to wave a towel over them while they are having sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, the rabbi says, will cause the woman to climax, so the couple tries it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several attempts, still no climax. They go back to the rabbi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi says for the bride to change partners and have the virile young man have sex with her and have the husband wave the towel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They try it that night and the young woman goes into wild, screaming ear-splitting climaxes, one after the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it is over, the husband smugly looks down at the young man and says,  "You see, schmuck, THAT's how you wave a towel"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114552544055935728?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114552544055935728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114552544055935728' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114552544055935728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114552544055935728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/04/jewish-sex-lessons.html' title='Jewish sex lessons'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114529965537347936</id><published>2006-04-17T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T11:47:35.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salary increase request</title><content type='html'>I, the Penis, hereby request a raise in salary for the following reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- I do physical labor. &lt;br /&gt;2- I work at great depths. &lt;br /&gt;3-I plunge head first into everything I do. &lt;br /&gt;4- I do not get weekends or public holidays off. &lt;br /&gt;5- I work in a damp environment. &lt;br /&gt;6- I don't get paid overtime. &lt;br /&gt;7- I work in a dark workplace that has poor ventilation.&lt;br /&gt;8- I work in high temperatures. &lt;br /&gt;9- My work exposes me to contagious diseases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Penis,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After assessing your request and considering the arguments you have raised, the administration rejects your request for the following reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- You cannot work 8 hours straight.&lt;br /&gt;2- You fall asleep on the job after brief work periods.&lt;br /&gt;3- You rarely follow the orders of the management team.&lt;br /&gt;4- You do not stay in your designated work area and are often seen visiting&lt;br /&gt;other locations.&lt;br /&gt;5- You do not take initiative. You need to be pressured and stimulated in&lt;br /&gt;order to start working.&lt;br /&gt;6- You leave the workplace rather messy at the end of your shift.&lt;br /&gt;7- You don't always observe necessary safety regulations, such as wearing the correct protective gear.&lt;br /&gt;8- You will retire well before you are 65.&lt;br /&gt;9- You are unable to work double shifts.&lt;br /&gt;10- More often than not, you leave your designated work area before you have completed the assigned task.&lt;br /&gt;11- If the ten reasons listed above are not enough, you have been seen constantly entering and exiting the workplace carrying two suspicious looking bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely, The Management&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114529965537347936?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114529965537347936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114529965537347936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114529965537347936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114529965537347936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/04/salary-increase-request.html' title='Salary increase request'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114529560828344935</id><published>2006-04-17T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T10:40:08.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Body builder</title><content type='html'>A bodybuilder picks up a blonde at a bar and takes her home with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes off his shirt, and the blonde says, "What a great chest you have."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bodybuilder tells her, "That's 200 lb. of dynamite, baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes off his pants, and the blonde says, "What massive calves you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bodybuilder tells her, "That's 200 lb. of dynamite, baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then removes his underwear, and the blonde goes running out of the apartment screaming in fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bodybuilder puts his clothes back on and chases after her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He catches up to her and asks why she ran out of the apartment like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde replies,&lt;br /&gt;"I was afraid to be around all that dynamite after I saw how short the fuse was."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114529560828344935?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114529560828344935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114529560828344935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114529560828344935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114529560828344935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/04/body-builder.html' title='Body builder'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114422857721633326</id><published>2006-04-05T02:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T02:16:17.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE GOLD TOILET</title><content type='html'>Before the 2001 inauguration of George Bush, he was invited&lt;br /&gt;to a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;get-acquainted tour of the White House. After drinking&lt;br /&gt;several glasses of iced tea, he asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill Clinton if he could use his personal bathroom.  When&lt;br /&gt;he entered Clinton's private toilet, he was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;astonished to see that president Clinton had a fancy solid&lt;br /&gt;gold urinal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That afternoon, George told his wife, Laura, about the&lt;br /&gt;urinal. "Just think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he said, "when I am president, I could have a gold urinal&lt;br /&gt;too. But I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wouldn't do something that self-induligible!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later when Laura had lunch with Hillary at her tour of the&lt;br /&gt;White House, she&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;told Hillary how impressed George had been at his discovery&lt;br /&gt;of the fact that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the President's private bathroom, the President had a&lt;br /&gt;gold urinal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening, when Bill and Hillary were getting ready for&lt;br /&gt;bed, Hillary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smiled, and said to Bill, "I found out who pissed in your&lt;br /&gt;saxophone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114422857721633326?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114422857721633326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114422857721633326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114422857721633326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114422857721633326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/04/gold-toilet.html' title='THE GOLD TOILET'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114398685073866190</id><published>2006-04-02T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T07:07:30.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>25 SIGNS YOU HAVE GROWN UP</title><content type='html'>1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You hear your favorite song in an elevator. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You watch the Weather Channel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You're the one calling the police because those %&amp;@# kids next &lt;br /&gt;door won't turn down the stereo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. You take naps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, &lt;br /&gt;rather than settle, your stomach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms &lt;br /&gt;and pregnancy tests. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good stuff." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going &lt;br /&gt;to drink that much again." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real &lt;br /&gt;work! . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate them &lt;br /&gt;instead of asking "Oh S*$# what the hell happened?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26: You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that &lt;br /&gt;doesn't apply to you and can't find one to save your sorry old butt. &lt;br /&gt;Then you forward it to a bunch of old pals &amp; friends 'cause you know &lt;br /&gt;they'll enjoy it &amp; do the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114398685073866190?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114398685073866190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114398685073866190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114398685073866190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114398685073866190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/04/25-signs-you-have-grown-up.html' title='25 SIGNS YOU HAVE GROWN UP'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114346276378364284</id><published>2006-03-27T04:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T04:32:43.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dictionary</title><content type='html'>Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winners are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms. (Love it :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxershorts worn by Jewish men.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114346276378364284?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114346276378364284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114346276378364284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114346276378364284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114346276378364284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/03/dictionary.html' title='dictionary'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114335999312713135</id><published>2006-03-25T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T23:59:53.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>one for the ladies</title><content type='html'>A couple is lying in bed. The man says, "I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world." The woman replies, "I'll miss you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "It's just too hot to wear clothes today," Jack says as he stepped&lt;br /&gt;out of the shower, "honey, what do you think the neighbors would&lt;br /&gt;think if I mowed the lawn like this?"&lt;br /&gt;"Probably that I married you for your money," she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said - Shall we try swapping positions tonight? She said -That's&lt;br /&gt;a good idea... you stand by the ironing board while I sit on the&lt;br /&gt; sofa and fart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive&lt;br /&gt;man?&lt;br /&gt;       A: A rumor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do you call a handcuffed man?&lt;br /&gt;       A: Trustworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?&lt;br /&gt;       A: Rename the mail folder "Instruction Manuals"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114335999312713135?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114335999312713135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114335999312713135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114335999312713135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114335999312713135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-for-ladies.html' title='one for the ladies'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114335968537680010</id><published>2006-03-25T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T23:54:45.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior moments</title><content type='html'>Two old ladies are outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it starts to rain. One of the old ladies pulls out a condom, cuts off the end, puts it over her cigarette, and continues smoking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maude: What in the hell is that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mabel: A condom. This way my cigarette doesn't get wet. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Maude: Where did you get it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mabel: You can get them at any drugstore. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next day, Maude hobbles herself into the local drugstore and announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms. The pharmacist, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely (she is after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what brand of condom she prefers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Doesn't matter Sonny, as long as it fits on a Camel." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pharmacist fainted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114335968537680010?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114335968537680010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114335968537680010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114335968537680010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114335968537680010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/03/senior-moments.html' title='Senior moments'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114285735035284491</id><published>2006-03-20T04:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T04:22:30.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BECAUSE I AM A MAN...</title><content type='html'>Because I'm a man, when I lock my keys in the car, I will fiddle with a coat hanger long after hypothermia has set in. Calling AAA is not an option. I will win.&lt;br /&gt;      _________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, when the car isn't running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I'm looking at.If another man shows up, one of us will say to the other,  "I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn't know where to start." We will then drink a couple of beers and break wind, as a form of holy communion.&lt;br /&gt;     _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, when I catch a cold, I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You're a woman.  You never get as sick as I do, so for you, this is no problem.&lt;br /&gt;     _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like "cumin" or "tofu." For all I know, these are the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;     _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I may miss a whole show looking for it.....though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator.....(applies to engineers mainly).&lt;br /&gt;      _______________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, there is no need to ask me what I'm thinking about.The true answer is always either sex, motorcycles, sex, cars or sex. I have to make up something else when you ask, so don't ask.&lt;br /&gt;      _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, I do not want to visit your mother, or have your mother come visit us, or talk to her when she calls, or think about her any more than I have to. Whatever you got her for Mother's Day is okay; I don't need to see it. And don't forget to pick up something for my mother, too.&lt;br /&gt;     _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, you don't have to ask me if I liked the movie.Chances are, if you're crying at the end of it, I didn't....and if you are feeling amorous afterwards....then I will certainly at least remember the name and recommend it to others.&lt;br /&gt;     _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, I think what you're wearing is fine. I thoughtwhat you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine.  With the belt or without it, looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine.  Can we just go now?&lt;br /&gt;      _______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;      Because I'm a man, and this is, after all, the year 2006, I will share equally in the housework. You just do the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the vacuuming, and the dishes, and I'll do the rest......Ilike wandering around in the garden with a beer wondering what to do.&lt;br /&gt;     ______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;     This has been a public service message for women to better understand men.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114285735035284491?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114285735035284491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114285735035284491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114285735035284491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114285735035284491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/03/because-i-am-man.html' title='BECAUSE I AM A MAN...'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114285662779349084</id><published>2006-03-20T04:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T04:10:27.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marathon runner</title><content type='html'>A woman was having a daytime affair while her husband was at work. One wet and lusty day she was in bed with her boyfriend when, to her horror, she heard her husband's car pull into the driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my God - Hurry! Grab your clothes and jump out the window. My husband's home early!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't jump out the window ~ It's raining out there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If my husband catches us in here, he'll kill us both!" she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got a hot temper and a gun, so the rain is the least of your problems!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the boyfriend scoots out of bed, grabs his clothes and jumps out the window!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he ran down the street in the pouring rain, he quickly&lt;br /&gt;discovered he had run right into the middle of the town's annual marathon, so he started running along beside the others, about 300 of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being naked, with his clothes tucked under his arm, he tried to blend in as best he could. After a little while a small group of runners who had been watching him with some curiosity, jogged closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you always run in the nude?" one asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes!" he replied, gasping in air. "It feels so wonderfully free!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another runner moved a long side. "Do you always run carrying your clothes with you under your arm?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh , yes" our friend answered breathlessly. "That way I can get dressed right at the end of the run and get in my car to go home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a third runner cast his eyes a little lower and queried, "Do you always wear a condom when you run?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope.........just when it's raining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114285662779349084?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114285662779349084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114285662779349084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114285662779349084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114285662779349084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/03/marathon-runner.html' title='Marathon runner'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114102795720662801</id><published>2006-02-27T00:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T00:12:37.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Woman's joke</title><content type='html'>A woman was sitting at a bar enjoying an after work cocktail with her&lt;br /&gt;girlfriends when an exceptionally tall, handsome, extremely sexy&lt;br /&gt;middle-aged  man entered. He was so striking that the woman could not &lt;br /&gt;take her eyes off  him. The young-at-heart man noticed her overly attentive&lt;br /&gt;stare and walked  directly toward her. (As all men will.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before she could offer her apologies for so rudely staring, he leaned  &lt;br /&gt;over and whispered to her, "I'll do anything, absolutely anything, that you&lt;br /&gt;want me to do, no matter how kinky, for $20.00 on one condition."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flabbergasted, the woman asked what the condition was. The man  &lt;br /&gt;replied, You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three  words."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman considered his proposition for a moment, and then slowly  &lt;br /&gt;removed a $20 bill from her purse, which she pressed into the man's hand  along&lt;br /&gt;with her address. She looked deeply in! to his eyes, and slowly and&lt;br /&gt;meaningfully said....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Clean my house."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114102795720662801?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114102795720662801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114102795720662801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114102795720662801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114102795720662801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/womans-joke.html' title='A Woman&apos;s joke'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114068513146222392</id><published>2006-02-23T00:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T00:58:51.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dictionary</title><content type='html'>A man's home is his castle..... in a manor of speaking &lt;br /&gt;Dijon vu - the same mustard as before &lt;br /&gt;Practice safe eating - always use condiments &lt;br /&gt;Shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death &lt;br /&gt;Those who jump off a bridge in Paris..... must be in Seine &lt;br /&gt;A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy &lt;br /&gt;A hangover is the wrath of grapes &lt;br /&gt;Does the name Pavlov ring a bell? &lt;br /&gt;Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion &lt;br /&gt;Reading while sunbathing makes you well red &lt;br /&gt;When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I &lt;br /&gt;A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two tired &lt;br /&gt;Definition of a will: A dead give away &lt;br /&gt;Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana &lt;br /&gt;She was engaged to a boyfriend with a wooden leg but broke it off &lt;br /&gt;A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion &lt;br /&gt;If you don't pay your exorcist, you'll get repossessed &lt;br /&gt;With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress &lt;br /&gt;When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds &lt;br /&gt;You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it &lt;br /&gt;Local Area Network in Australia: the LAN down under &lt;br /&gt;Every calendar's days are numbered &lt;br /&gt;A lot of money is tainted - It taint yours and it taint mine &lt;br /&gt;A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat &lt;br /&gt;A midget fortune-teller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large &lt;br /&gt;Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end &lt;br /&gt;Once you've seen one shopping centre...you've seen a mall &lt;br /&gt;Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis &lt;br /&gt;Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses &lt;br /&gt;Acupuncture is a jab well done&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114068513146222392?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114068513146222392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114068513146222392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114068513146222392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114068513146222392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/dictionary.html' title='Dictionary'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114052263674582599</id><published>2006-02-21T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T03:50:36.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jewish wedding</title><content type='html'>Q. Why is it so important for the groom at a Jewish wedding to stomp&lt;br /&gt;on a wine glass?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Because it's the last time he'll put his foot down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114052263674582599?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114052263674582599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114052263674582599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114052263674582599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114052263674582599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/jewish-wedding.html' title='Jewish wedding'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114044567190963133</id><published>2006-02-20T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T06:27:52.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a blonde year</title><content type='html'>A BLONDE'S YEAR IN REVIEW:&lt;br /&gt;January - Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight.&lt;br /&gt;February - Fired from pharmacy job for failing to print labels .... "duh" .... bottles won't fit in typewriter!!!!&lt;br /&gt;March - Got excited .... Finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months .... box said "2-4 years!"&lt;br /&gt;April - Trapped on escalator for hours .... power went out!!!!&lt;br /&gt;May - Tried to make Kool-Aid .... 8 cups of water won't fit into those little packets!!!!&lt;br /&gt;June - Tried to go water skiing .... couldn't find a lake with a slope.&lt;br /&gt;July - Lost breast stroke swimming competition .... learned later, other swimmers cheated, they used their arms!!!!&lt;br /&gt;August - Got locked out of car in rain storm .... car swamped, because top was down.&lt;br /&gt;September - The capital of California is "C" .... isn't it????&lt;br /&gt;October - Hate M &amp; M's .... They are so hard to peel.&lt;br /&gt;November - Baked turkey for 4 1/2 days .... instructions said 1 hour per pound and I weigh 108!!!&lt;br /&gt;December - Couldn't call 911 ..... "duh" .... there's no "eleven" button on the phone!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  What a year!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114044567190963133?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114044567190963133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114044567190963133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114044567190963133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114044567190963133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/blonde-year.html' title='a blonde year'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114038183630788715</id><published>2006-02-19T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T12:43:56.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>test positive</title><content type='html'>A 17 year-old girl tells her Mum that she has missed her period for two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very worried, the mother goes to the chemist and buys a pregnancy test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test is positive. Shouting, swearing, crying, the mother says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who was the bastard that did this to you? I want to know!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl picks up the phone and makes a call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half an hour later a Ferrari stops in front of their house; a mature and distinguished man with grey hair and impeccably dressed in an Armani suit steps out of the Ferrari and enters the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sits in the l iving room with the father and the mother, and the girl and tells them of his problem. I can't marry her because of my personal family situation&lt;br /&gt;but I'll take charge. I will pay all costs and provide for your daughter for the rest of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, if a girl is born I will bequeath her 2 retail stores, a townhouse, a beachfront villa and a $2,000,000 bank account."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He continues:&lt;br /&gt; "If a boy is born, my legacy will be a couple of factories and a $4,000,000 bank account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she has twins, they will receive a factory and $2,000,000 each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, if there is a miscarriage, what do you suggest I do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the father, who had remained silent, places a hand firmly&lt;br /&gt;on the man's shoulder and tells him,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You fuck her again..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114038183630788715?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114038183630788715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114038183630788715' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114038183630788715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114038183630788715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/test-positive.html' title='test positive'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-114025235782468539</id><published>2006-02-18T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T00:45:57.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Genies</title><content type='html'>Three guys -- a Canadian farmer, Osama bin Laden,&lt;br /&gt;and an American engineer are working together one day. They come &lt;br /&gt;across a lantern and a Genie pops out of it. "I will give each of you &lt;br /&gt;one wish, which is three wishes total," says the Genie.&lt;br /&gt;The Canadian says, "I am a farmer, my dad was a&lt;br /&gt;farmer, and my son will also be a farmer. I want the land to be&lt;br /&gt;forever fertile in Canada."&lt;br /&gt;Pooooof!&lt;br /&gt;With the blink of the Genie's eye, the land in&lt;br /&gt;Canada was forever made fertile for farming.&lt;br /&gt;Osama bin Ladin was amazed, so he said, "I want a&lt;br /&gt;wall around Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran so that no infidels,&lt;br /&gt;Jews or Americans can come into our precious state."&lt;br /&gt;Pooooof!&lt;br /&gt;Again, with the blink of the Genie's eye, there was a huge wall &lt;br /&gt;around those countries.&lt;br /&gt;The American engineer says, "I am very curious.&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me more about this wall." The Genie explains, "Well, it's &lt;br /&gt;about 5000 feet high, 500 feet thick and completely surrounds the &lt;br /&gt;country. Nothing can get in or out, it's virtually impenetrable."&lt;br /&gt;The American engineer says, "Fill it with water."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-114025235782468539?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/114025235782468539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=114025235782468539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114025235782468539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/114025235782468539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/genies.html' title='Genies'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113921272068816649</id><published>2006-02-05T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T23:58:40.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Zipper</title><content type='html'>A man walked into a supermarket with his zipper down. A lady cashier walked up to him and said, "Your barracks door is open." Not a phrase that men normally use, he went on his way looking a bit puzzled. When he was about done shopping a man came up and said, "Your fly is open." He zipped up and finished his shopping. At the checkout, he intentionally got in the line where the lady was that told him about his "barracks door." He was planning to have a little fun with her, so when he reached the counter he said, "When you saw my barracks door open, did you see a Marine standing in there at attention?" The lady (naturally smarter than the man) thought for a moment and said, "No, no I didn't. All I saw was a disabled veteran sitting on a couple of old duffel bags."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113921272068816649?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113921272068816649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113921272068816649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113921272068816649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113921272068816649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/zipper.html' title='The Zipper'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113921267800228683</id><published>2006-02-05T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T23:57:58.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>senior moments</title><content type='html'>At 85 years of age, Wally married Lou Anne, a lovely 25 year old.&lt;br /&gt;Since her new husband is so old, Lou Anne decides that after their&lt;br /&gt;wedding she and Wally should have separate bedrooms, because she is&lt;br /&gt;concerned that her new but aged husband may overexert himself if they&lt;br /&gt;spend the entire night together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the wedding festivities Lou Anne prepares herself for bed and the&lt;br /&gt;expected "knock" on the door. Sure enough the knock comes, the door&lt;br /&gt;opens and there is Wally, her 85 year old groom, ready for action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They unite as one. All goes well, Wally takes leave of his bride, and&lt;br /&gt;she prepares to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, Lou Anne hears another knock on her bedroom door,&lt;br /&gt;and it's Wally. Again he is ready for more "action".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhat surprised, Lou Anne consents for more coupling. When the&lt;br /&gt;newlyweds are done, Wally kisses his bride, bids her a fond goodnight&lt;br /&gt;and leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is set to go to sleep again, but, aha you guessed it - Wally is back&lt;br /&gt;again, rapping on the door, and is as fresh as a 25-year-old,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ready  for more "action". And, once again they enjoy each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as Wally gets set to leave again, his young bride says to him, "I&lt;br /&gt;am thoroughly impressed that at your age you can perform so well and so&lt;br /&gt;often. I have been with guys less than a third of your age who were&lt;br /&gt;only   good once. You are truly a great lover, Wally."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wally, somewhat embarrassed, turns to Lou Anne and says:&lt;br /&gt;........."You mean I was here already?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113921267800228683?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113921267800228683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113921267800228683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113921267800228683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113921267800228683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/senior-moments.html' title='senior moments'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113903535028890076</id><published>2006-02-03T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T22:42:30.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mailman's last day</title><content type='html'>It was the mailman's last day on the job after 35 years of carrying the &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;mail through all kinds of weather to the same neighborhood. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;When he arrived at the first house on his route he was greeted by the &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;whole family there, who congratulated him and sent him on his way with a &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;big gift envelope. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;At the second house they presented him with a box of fine cigars. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The folks at the third house handed him a selection of terrific fishing &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;lures. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;At the fourth house he was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;blonde in a revealing negligee. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;She took him by the hand, gently led him through the door (which she &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;closed behind him), and led him up the stairs to the bedroom where she &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;When he had had enough they went downstairs, where she fixed him a giant &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles, and fresh- &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied she poured him a cup &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;of steaming coffee. As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;out from under the cup's bottom edge. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "but what's the &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;dollar for?" &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Well," she said, "last night, I told my husband that today would be your &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;last day, and that we should do something special for you. I  asked him &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;what to give you." &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;He said, "Screw him - - - give him a dollar." &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The blonde then blushed and said, "The breakfast was my idea."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113903535028890076?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113903535028890076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113903535028890076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903535028890076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903535028890076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/mailmans-last-day.html' title='Mailman&apos;s last day'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113903317135004004</id><published>2006-02-03T22:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T22:06:11.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>living in the USA</title><content type='html'>As we all know, when we hit retirement age we come face to face with&lt;br /&gt; the fact that it may be time to relocate. The big question is:&lt;br /&gt; where? Here are some tips.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can live in Phoenix, Arizona where.....&lt;br /&gt; 1. You are willing to park 3 blocks away because you found shade.&lt;br /&gt; 2. You can open and drive your car without touching the car door or&lt;br /&gt; the steering wheel.&lt;br /&gt; 3. You've experienced condensation on your butt from the hot water&lt;br /&gt; in the toilet bowl.&lt;br /&gt; 4. You would give anything to be able to splash cold water on your&lt;br /&gt; face.&lt;br /&gt; 5. You can attend any function wearing shorts and a tank top.&lt;br /&gt; 6. "Dress Code" is meaningless at high schools and universities.&lt;br /&gt; Picture lingerie ads.&lt;br /&gt; 7. You can drive for 4 hours in one direction and never leave town.&lt;br /&gt; 8. You have over 100 recipes for Mexican food.&lt;br /&gt; 9. The 4 seasons are: tolerable, hot, really hot, and ARE YOU&lt;br /&gt; KIDDING ME??!!&lt;br /&gt; 10. You know that "dry heat" is comparable to what hits you in the&lt;br /&gt; face when you open your oven door.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can Live in California where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You make over $250,000 and you still can't afford to buy a house.&lt;br /&gt; 2 The high school quarterback calls a time-out to answer his cell&lt;br /&gt; phone.&lt;br /&gt; 3. The fastest part of your commute is going down your driveway.&lt;br /&gt; 4. You know how to eat an artichoke.&lt;br /&gt; 5. You drive your rented Mercedes to your neighborhood block party.&lt;br /&gt; 6. When someone asks you how far something is, you tell them how&lt;br /&gt; long it will take to get there rather than how many miles away it&lt;br /&gt; is.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can Live in New York City where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You say "the city" and expect everyone to know you mean Manhattan.&lt;br /&gt; 2. You have never been to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State&lt;br /&gt; Building.&lt;br /&gt; 3. You can get into a four-hour argument about how to get from&lt;br /&gt; Columbus Circle to Battery Park, but can't find Wisconsin on a map.&lt;br /&gt; 4 You think Central Park is "nature."&lt;br /&gt; 5. You believe that being able to swear at people in their own&lt;br /&gt; language makes you multi-lingual.&lt;br /&gt; 6. You've worn out a car horn.&lt;br /&gt; 7. You think eye contact is an act of aggression.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can Live in Maine where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You only have four spices: salt, pepper, ketchup, and Tabasco.&lt;br /&gt; 2. Halloween costumes fit over parkas.&lt;br /&gt; 3. You have more than one recipe for moose.&lt;br /&gt; 4. Sexy lingerie is anything flannel with less than eight buttons.&lt;br /&gt; 5. The four seasons are: winter, still winter, almost winter, and&lt;br /&gt; construction.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can Live in the Deep South where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You can rent a movie and buy bait in the same store.&lt;br /&gt; 2."y'all" is singular and "all y'all" is plural.&lt;br /&gt; 3. After five years you still hear, "You ain't from 'round here, are&lt;br /&gt; Ya?"&lt;br /&gt; 4. "He needed killin' " is a valid defense.&lt;br /&gt; 5. Everyone has 2 first names: Billy Bob, Jimmy Bob, Mary Sue, Betty&lt;br /&gt; Jean, etc.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can live in Colorado where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You carry your $3,000 mountain bike atop your $500 car.&lt;br /&gt; 2. You tell your husband to pick up Granola on his way home and he&lt;br /&gt; stops at the day care center.&lt;br /&gt; 3. A pass does not involve a football or dating.&lt;br /&gt; 4. The top of your head is bald, but you still have a pony tail.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; You can live in the Midwest where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You've never meet any celebrities, but the mayor knows your name.&lt;br /&gt; 2. Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to pass a tractor.&lt;br /&gt; 3. You have had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" on the same day.&lt;br /&gt; 4. You end sentences with a preposition: "Where's my coat at?"&lt;br /&gt; 5. When asked how your trip was to any exotic place, you say, "It&lt;br /&gt; was different!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; AND You can live in Florida where...&lt;br /&gt; 1. You eat dinner at 3:15 in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt; 2. All purchases include a coupon of some kind -- even houses and&lt;br /&gt; cars.&lt;br /&gt; 3. Everyone can recommend an excellent dermatologist.&lt;br /&gt; 4. Road construction never ends anywhere in the state.&lt;br /&gt; 5. Cars in front of you are often driven by headless people&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113903317135004004?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113903317135004004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113903317135004004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903317135004004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903317135004004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/living-in-usa.html' title='living in the USA'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113903278583098537</id><published>2006-02-03T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T21:59:45.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hospital</title><content type='html'>ROOM 302 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who has ever been in a hospital or had a loved one in the &lt;br /&gt;hospital will enjoy this: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman called a local hospital. "Hello. Could you connect me to the &lt;br /&gt;person who gives information about patients. I'd like to find out if &lt;br /&gt;a patient is getting better, doing as expected, or getting worse." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice on the other end said, "What is the patient's name and room &lt;br /&gt;number?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sarah Finkel, room 302." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll connect you with the nursing station." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"3-A Nursing Station. How can I help you?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd like to know the condition of Sarah Finkel in room 302." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just a moment. Let me look at her records.  Mrs. Finkel is doing &lt;br /&gt;very well.  In fact, she's had two full meals, her blood pressure is &lt;br /&gt;fine, to be taken off the heart monitor in a couple of hours and, if &lt;br /&gt;she continues this improvement, Dr. Cohen is going to send her home &lt;br /&gt;Tuesday at noon." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman said, "What a relief! Oh, that's fantastic... that's &lt;br /&gt;wonderful news!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse said, "From your enthusiasm, I take it you are a close &lt;br /&gt;family member or a very close friend!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Neither!  I'm Sarah Finkel in 302!  Nobody here tells me anything."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113903278583098537?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113903278583098537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113903278583098537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903278583098537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903278583098537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/hospital.html' title='The Hospital'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113903264496888685</id><published>2006-02-03T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T21:57:24.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Talmud</title><content type='html'>The Priest met his friend, the Rabbi, and said to him, "You have &lt;br /&gt;taught me many things but there is one thing in particular I want to &lt;br /&gt;learn very much but you do not wish to teach it to me. I want you to &lt;br /&gt;teach me the Talmud."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi replied: "You are a Non-Jew and you have the brain of a &lt;br /&gt;Non-Jew. There is no chance that you will succeed in understanding &lt;br /&gt;the Talmud."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Priest continued in his attempt to persuade the Rabbi to &lt;br /&gt;teach him the Talmud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the Rabbi agreed. The Rabbi then said to the Priest: "I &lt;br /&gt;agree to teach you the Talmud on condition that you answer one &lt;br /&gt;question."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest agreed and asked the Rabbi "What is the Question?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then said to the Priest: "Two men fall down through the &lt;br /&gt;chimney. One comes out dirty and the other comes out clean. Who of &lt;br /&gt;those two goes to wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very Simple," replied the Priest. "The one who is dirty goes to wash &lt;br /&gt;up but the one who is clean does not go to wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then said to the Priest: "I told that you will not succeed &lt;br /&gt;in understanding the Talmud. The exact opposite happened. The clean &lt;br /&gt;one looks at the dirty one and thinks that he is also dirty goes to &lt;br /&gt;wash up. The dirty one, on the other hand, looks at the clean one and &lt;br /&gt;thinks that he is also  clean and, therefore, does not go to wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest then says to the Rabbi: "This I did not think of. Ask me, &lt;br /&gt;please another question."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then says to the Priest: "Two men fall down through the &lt;br /&gt;chimney. One comes out dirty and the other comes out clean. Who of &lt;br /&gt;these two goes to wash up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest then says to the Rabbi: "Very simple. The clean one looks &lt;br /&gt;at the dirty one and thinks he is also dirty and goes to wash up. The &lt;br /&gt;dirty one, on the other hand, looks at the clean one and thinks that &lt;br /&gt;he is also clean and, therefore, does not go to wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then says to the Priest: "You are wrong again . I told you &lt;br /&gt;that you  will not understand. The clean one looks into the mirror, &lt;br /&gt;sees that he is  clean and, therefore, does not go to wash up. The &lt;br /&gt;dirty one looks into the  mirror, sees that he is dirty and goes to &lt;br /&gt;wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest complains to the Rabbi "But you did not tell me that there &lt;br /&gt;is a mirror there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then tells the Priest: "I told you. You are a Non-Jew, with &lt;br /&gt;your brain you will not succeed in understanding the Talmud. &lt;br /&gt;According to the Talmud, you have to think of all the possibilities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All right," groaning, said the Priest to the Rabbi. "Let us try once &lt;br /&gt;more. Ask me one more question."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last time, said the Rabbi to the Priest. "Two men fall &lt;br /&gt;through the chimney. One came out dirty and the other came out clean. &lt;br /&gt;Who of these two went to wash up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That is very simple!" replied the Priest. "If there is no mirror &lt;br /&gt;there the clean one will look at the dirty one and will! think that &lt;br /&gt;he is also dirty and will, therefore, go to wash up. The dirty one &lt;br /&gt;will look at the clean one and will think that he is also clean, and &lt;br /&gt;will, therefore, not go to wash up. If there is a mirror there, the &lt;br /&gt;clean one will look into the mirror and will, therefore, not go to &lt;br /&gt;wash up. The dirty one will look into the mirror and will see that he &lt;br /&gt;is dirty and will, therefore go to wash up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rabbi then says to the Priest: "I told that you will not succeed &lt;br /&gt;in understanding. You are a Non-Jew, you have a Non-Jewish Brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me, how is it possible for two men to fall through a chimney and &lt;br /&gt;for one to come out dirty and for the other to come out clean?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113903264496888685?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113903264496888685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113903264496888685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903264496888685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113903264496888685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/02/talmud.html' title='Talmud'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113767611814659549</id><published>2006-01-19T05:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T05:08:38.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pope's blessing</title><content type='html'>The Pope was saying daily Mass, before a throng of the faithful, at &lt;br /&gt;the Vatican. The Pope finished his sermon with the Latin phrase, &lt;br /&gt;"Tuti Homini," translated in English, meaning, "Blessed be Mankind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A women's rights group approached the Pope the next day. They were &lt;br /&gt;taken back that the Pope blessed all "Mankind," but not, "Womankind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, after His sermon, the Pope concluded by saying, "Tuti &lt;br /&gt;Homini, et Tuti Femini," translated in English, meaning, "Blessed be &lt;br /&gt;Mankind and Womankind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, a gay-rights group approached the Pope. They said that &lt;br /&gt;they took notice that he blessed mankind and womankind, and insisted &lt;br /&gt;that he also bless gay people. The Pope said, "Sure, no problem".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the Pope concluded his sermon with, "Tuti Homeni, et &lt;br /&gt;Tuti Femini, et Tuti Fruiti."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113767611814659549?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113767611814659549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113767611814659549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113767611814659549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113767611814659549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/01/popes-blessing.html' title='Pope&apos;s blessing'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113722092957374085</id><published>2006-01-13T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T22:42:09.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Amish</title><content type='html'>An Amish boy and his father were in a mall. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny, silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the boy asked, "What is this Father?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father (never having seen an elevator) responded, "Son, I have never seen anything like this in my life, I don't know what it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a fat, old lady in a wheel chair moved up to the moving walls and pressed a button. The walls opened and the lady rolled between them into a small room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The walls closed and the boy and his father watched the small circular numbers above the walls light up sequentially. They continued to watch until it reached the last number and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the walls opened up again and a gorgeous 24-year-old blonde stepped out.&lt;br /&gt;The father said quietly to his son.....&lt;br /&gt;"Go get your mother."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113722092957374085?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113722092957374085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113722092957374085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113722092957374085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113722092957374085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2006/01/amish.html' title='The Amish'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113569500629185028</id><published>2005-12-27T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T06:51:16.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The State fair</title><content type='html'>Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year and every year Morris would say, "Esther, I'd like to ride in that airplane." Esther always replied, "I know Morris, but that airplane ride costs 50 dollars, and 50 dollars is 50 dollars." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year Morris and Esther went to the fair and Morris said, "Esther, I'm 85 years old. If I don't ride that airplane I might never get another chance." Esther replied, "Morris, that airplane ride costs 50 dollars, and 50 is dollars is 50 dollars." The pilot overheard them and said, "Folks, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you; but if you say one word it's 50 dollars." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word was heard. He did all his tricks over again, but still not a word. When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't." Morris replied, "Well, I was gonna say something when Esther fell out, but 50 dollars is 50 dollars."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113569500629185028?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113569500629185028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113569500629185028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113569500629185028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113569500629185028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/state-fair.html' title='The State fair'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113541400857006215</id><published>2005-12-24T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T00:46:48.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Synagogue Bulletin Blunders</title><content type='html'>These announcements, with hilarious typos and phrasing blunders, were reportedly found in various shul newsletters and bulletins around the country. Even the spell checker wouldn't have helped!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Don't let worry kill you. Let your synagogue help. Join us for our Oneg after services. Prayer and medication to follow. Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our congregation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. We are pleased to announce the birth of David Weiss, the sin of Rabbi and Mrs. Abe Weiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Thursday at 9, there will be a meeting of the Little Mothers Club. All women wishing to become Little Mothers please see the rabbi in his private study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The ladies of Hadassah have cast off clothing of every kind and they may be seen in the basement on Tuesdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. A bean supper will be held Wednesday evening in the community center. Music will follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the JCC. Please use the large double door at the side entrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Rabbi is on vacation. Massages can be given to his secretary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Goldblum will be entering the hospital this week for testes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The Men's Club is warmly invited to the Oneg hosted by Hadassah. Refreshments will be served for a nominal feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Rob, who are preparing for the girth of their first child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. We are taking up a collection to defray the cost of the new carpet in the sanctuary. All those wishing to do something on the carpet will come forward and get a piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. If you enjoy sinning, the choir is looking for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. The Associate Rabbi unveiled the synagogue's new fund-raising campaign slogan this week: "I Upped My Pledge. Up Yours"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113541400857006215?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113541400857006215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113541400857006215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541400857006215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541400857006215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/synagogue-bulletin-blunders.html' title='Synagogue Bulletin Blunders'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113541388898903071</id><published>2005-12-24T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T00:44:48.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blonde Year in Review</title><content type='html'>January - Took her new scarf back to the store because it was too tight.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;February - Couldn't work in a pharmacy because the bottles wouldn't fit into the typewriter.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;March - Got excited when she finished a jigsaw puzzle in 6 months because the box said  "2-4 years."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;April - Was trapped on an escalator for hours when the power went out.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;May - Couldn't make Kool-Aid because 8 cups of water won't fit into those little packets.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;June - Couldn't learn to water ski because she couldn't find a lake with a slope.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;July - After losing in a breaststroke swimming competition, complained to the judges that the other swimmers were using their arms.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;August - Told her blonde friend to hurry when trying to get into their locked car using a coat hanger because it was starting to rain and the top was down.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;September - When asked what the capital of California was: answered "C." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October - Decided she hates M &amp;M's because they are so hard to peel and there were too many W's in the bag. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;November - Baked Thanksgiving turkey for 4 days because the instructions said 1 hour per pound and she weighed 120.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;December - House burned down. Couldn't call 911 because there was no "11" on any phone button.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113541388898903071?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113541388898903071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113541388898903071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541388898903071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541388898903071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/blonde-year-in-review.html' title='The Blonde Year in Review'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113541375635018029</id><published>2005-12-24T00:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T00:42:36.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Next time you think your hotel bill is too high you might want to consider this... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A husband and wife are traveling by car from Key West to Boston.  After almost twenty-four hours on the road, they're too tired to  continue, and they decide to stop for a rest. They stop at a nice hotel and take a room, but they only plan to sleep for four hours and then get back on the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they check out four hours later, the desk clerk hands them a bill for  $350.00.  The man explodes and demands to know why the charge is so high. He tells the clerk although it's a nice hotel, the rooms certainly aren't worth $350.00. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the clerk tells him $350.00 is the standard rate, the man insists on  speaking to the Manager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager appears, listens to the man, and then explains that the hotel has an Olympic-sized pool and a huge conference center that were available for the&lt;br /&gt;husband and wife to use. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we didn't use them," the man complains. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, they are here, and you could have," explains the Manager.  He goes on to explain they could have taken in one of the shows for which the hotel is famous. "The best entertainers from New York, Hollywood and Las Vegas perform here," the Manager says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But we didn't go to any of those shows, "complains the man again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, we have them, and you could have," the Manager replies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what facility the Manager mentions, the man replies, "But we  didn't use it!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is unmoved, and eventually the man gives up and agrees  to pay.  He writes a check and gives it to the Manager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is surprised when he looks at the check. "But sir," he says,  this check is only made out for $50.00." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's correct," says the man. "I charged you $300.00 for sleeping with my wife." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I didn't!" exclaims the Manager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, too bad," the man replies. "She was here and you could have"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113541375635018029?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113541375635018029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113541375635018029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541375635018029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541375635018029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/next-time-you-think-your-hotel-bill-is.html' title=''/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113541361781797796</id><published>2005-12-24T00:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T00:40:17.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blonde Painter</title><content type='html'>This blonde decides one day that she is sick and tired of all these blonde jokes and how all blondes are perceived as stupid. So, she decides to show her husband that blondes really are smart.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;While her husband is off at work, she decides that she is going to paint a couple of rooms in the house. The next day, right after her husband leaves for work, she&lt;br /&gt;gets down to the task at hand.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Her husband arrives home at 5:30and smells the distinctive smell of paint. He walks into the living room and finds his wife lying on the floor in a pool of sweat. He notices that she is wearing a heavy parka and a leather jacket at the same time. He goes over and asks her if she is OK. She replies yes. He asks what she is doing and she replies that she wanted to prove to him that not all blonde women are dumb, and she wanted to do it by painting the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then asks her why she has a parka over her leather jacket. She replies that she was reading the directions on the paint can and it said . . . . . . . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"FOR BEST RESULTS, PUT ON TWO COATS"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113541361781797796?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113541361781797796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113541361781797796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541361781797796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113541361781797796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/blonde-painter.html' title='The Blonde Painter'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113540794524016982</id><published>2005-12-23T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T23:05:45.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading the Newspaper</title><content type='html'>A story is told of a Jewish man who was riding on the subway reading &lt;br /&gt;an Arab newspaper. A friend of his, who happened to be riding in the &lt;br /&gt;same subway car, noticed this strange phenomenon. Very upset, he &lt;br /&gt;approached the newspaper reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Moshe, have you lost your mind? Why are you reading an Arab &lt;br /&gt;newspaper?" Moshe replied, "I used to read the Jewish newspaper, but &lt;br /&gt;what did I find? Jews being persecuted, Israel being attacked, Jews &lt;br /&gt;disappearing through assimilation and intermarriage, Jews living in &lt;br /&gt;poverty. So I switched to the Arab newspaper. Now what do I find? &lt;br /&gt;Jews own all the banks, Jews control the media, Jews are all rich and &lt;br /&gt;powerful, Jews rule the world. The news is so much better!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113540794524016982?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113540794524016982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113540794524016982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113540794524016982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113540794524016982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/reading-newspaper.html' title='Reading the Newspaper'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113518624145832919</id><published>2005-12-21T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T09:30:41.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Picnic</title><content type='html'>A Jewish Rabbi and a Catholic Priest met at the town's annual 4th of &lt;br /&gt;July picnic. Old friends, they began their usual banter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This baked ham is really delicious," the priest teased the rabbi. &lt;br /&gt;"You really ought try it. I know it's against your religion, but I &lt;br /&gt;can't understand why such a wonderful food should be forbidden! You &lt;br /&gt;don't know what you're missing. You just haven't lived until you've &lt;br /&gt;tried Mrs. Hall's prized Virginia Baked Ham. Tell me, Rabbi, when are &lt;br /&gt;you going to break down and try it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi looked at the priest with a big grin, and said, "At your wedding."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113518624145832919?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113518624145832919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113518624145832919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113518624145832919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113518624145832919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/picnic.html' title='The Picnic'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113490937683284097</id><published>2005-12-18T04:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T04:36:16.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bird flu arrives in the US</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/1600/bird%20flu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/320/bird%20flu.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113490937683284097?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113490937683284097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113490937683284097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113490937683284097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113490937683284097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/bird-flu-arrives-in-us.html' title='bird flu arrives in the US'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113490931862879148</id><published>2005-12-18T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T04:35:18.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Connecticut apologizes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/1600/connecticul%20apologizes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/320/connecticul%20apologizes.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113490931862879148?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113490931862879148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113490931862879148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113490931862879148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113490931862879148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/connecticut-apologizes.html' title='Connecticut apologizes'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113465237141779383</id><published>2005-12-15T05:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T05:12:51.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>British Humor</title><content type='html'>See &lt;a href="http://www.zippyvideos.com/7594713232687076/lookatthewomen_sfaces"&gt; this&lt;/a&gt; video.  Typical British humor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113465237141779383?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113465237141779383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113465237141779383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113465237141779383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113465237141779383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/british-humor.html' title='British Humor'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113456021569174248</id><published>2005-12-14T03:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:36:55.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde jokes</title><content type='html'>AUTO REPAIR &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blonde pushes her BMW into a gas station. She tells the mechanic it &lt;br /&gt;died. After he works on it for a few minutes, it is idling smoothly. &lt;br /&gt;She says, "What's the story?" &lt;br /&gt;He replies, "Just crap in the carburetor." &lt;br /&gt;She asks, "How often do I have to do that?" &lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;SPEEDING TICKET &lt;br /&gt;A police officer stops a blonde for speeding and asks her very nicely if &lt;br /&gt;he could see her license. &lt;br /&gt;She replied in a huff, "I wish you guys would get your act together. &lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday you take away my license and then today you expect me to &lt;br /&gt;show it to you!" &lt;br /&gt;-------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;EXPOSURE &lt;br /&gt;A blonde is walking down the street with her blouse open and her right &lt;br /&gt;breast hanging out. A policeman approaches her and says, "Ma'am, are you &lt;br /&gt;aware that I could cite you for indecent exposure?" &lt;br /&gt;She says, "Why, officer?" &lt;br /&gt;"Because your breast is hanging out." he says. &lt;br /&gt;She looks down and says, "OH MY GOD, I left the baby on the bus again!" &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;RIVER WALK &lt;br /&gt;There's this blonde out for a walk. She comes to a river and sees another &lt;br /&gt;blonde on the opposite bank. &lt;br /&gt;"Yoo-hoo!" she shouts, "How can I get to the other side?" &lt;br /&gt;The second blonde looks up the river then down the river and shouts back, &lt;br /&gt;"You ARE on the other side." &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;KNITTING &lt;br /&gt;A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway. &lt;br /&gt;Glancing at the car, he was astounded to see that the blonde behind the &lt;br /&gt;wheel was knitting! Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing &lt;br /&gt;lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his &lt;br /&gt;bullhorn and yelled, "PULL OVER!" &lt;br /&gt;"NO!" the blonde yelled back, "IT'S A SCARF!" &lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;BLONDE ON THE SUN &lt;br /&gt;A Russian, an American, and a Blonde were talking one day. &lt;br /&gt;The Russian said, 'We were the first in space!" &lt;br /&gt;The American said, "We were the first on the moon!" &lt;br /&gt;The Blonde said, "So what? We're going to be the first on the sun!" &lt;br /&gt;The Russian and the American looked at each other and shook their heads. &lt;br /&gt;"You can't land on the sun, you idiot! You'll burn up!" said the Russian. &lt;br /&gt;To which the Blonde replied, "We're not stupid, you know. We're going at &lt;br /&gt;night!" &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;IN A VACUUM &lt;br /&gt;A blonde was playing Trivial Pursuit one night. It was her turn. She &lt;br /&gt;rolled the dice and she landed on Science &amp; Nature. Her question was, &lt;br /&gt;"If you are in a vacuum and someone calls your name, can you hear it?" &lt;br /&gt;She thought for a time and then asked, "Is it on or off?" &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;FINAL EXAM &lt;br /&gt;The blonde reported for her university final examination that consists of &lt;br /&gt;yes/no type questions. She takes her seat in the examination hall, &lt;br /&gt;stares at the question paper for five minutes and then, in a fit of &lt;br /&gt;inspiration, takes out her purse, removes a coin and starts tossing the coin,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marking the answer sheet: Yes, for Heads, and No, for Tails. &lt;br /&gt;Within half an hour she is all done, whereas the rest of the class is &lt;br /&gt;still sweating it out. During the last few minutes she is seen desperately &lt;br /&gt;throwing the coin, muttering and sweating. The moderator, alarmed, &lt;br /&gt;approaches her and asks what is going on. "I finished the exam in half an &lt;br /&gt;hour, but now I'm rechecking my answers."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113456021569174248?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113456021569174248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113456021569174248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113456021569174248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113456021569174248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/blonde-jokes.html' title='Blonde jokes'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113456004662092962</id><published>2005-12-14T03:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:34:06.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worst Day</title><content type='html'>This little guy is sitting at the bar just staring at his drink. He's &lt;br /&gt;been sitting there for half an hour when this big trouble-making truck &lt;br /&gt;driver steps next to him, grabs his drink and gulps it down in one &lt;br /&gt;swig.&lt;br /&gt;T&lt;br /&gt;he poor little guy starts crying. "Come on man, I was just giving you &lt;br /&gt;a hard time," says the truck driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man crying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is the worst day of my life," says the little guy between sobs.&lt;br /&gt;"I can't do anything right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I over-slept and was late to an important meeting, so my boss fired me.&lt;br /&gt;When I went to the parking lot, I found my car was stolen and I have no &lt;br /&gt;insurance. I grabbed a cab home but, after the cab left, I discovered I &lt;br /&gt;had forgotten my wallet in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home I found my wife in bed with the gardener. So I came to this bar and was thinking about putting an end to my  life, and you show up and drink the damn poison."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113456004662092962?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113456004662092962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113456004662092962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113456004662092962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113456004662092962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/worst-day.html' title='The Worst Day'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113455980822248832</id><published>2005-12-14T03:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:30:08.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Insurance Companies</title><content type='html'>Four insurance companies are in competition.  One comes up with the&lt;br /&gt;slogan, "Coverage from the cradle to the grave."    The Second one&lt;br /&gt;tries to improve on that with, "Coverage from the womb to the tomb."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be outdone, the third one comes up with, "From the sperm to the worm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fourth insurance company really thought hard and almost gave up the race, but finally came up with, "From the erection to the resurrection."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113455980822248832?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113455980822248832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113455980822248832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455980822248832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455980822248832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/insurance-companies.html' title='Insurance Companies'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113455975712976410</id><published>2005-12-14T03:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:29:17.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The CEO</title><content type='html'>A company, feeling it was time for a shake-up, hires a new CEO. This new boss is determined to rid the company of all slackers. On a tour of the facilities, the CEO notices a guy leaning on a wall. The room is full of workers and he wants to let them know he means business!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The CEO walks up to the guy and asks - "and how much money do you make a week?" Undaunted, the young fellow looks at him and replies, "I make $200.00 a week.......Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The CEO then hands the guy $200 in cash and screams, "Here's a week's pay,now GET OUT and don't come back!" Feeling pretty good about his first firing, the CEO looks&lt;br /&gt;around the room and asks, "Does anyone want to tell me what that slacker did here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a sheepish grin, one of the other workers mutters, "Pizza delivery&lt;br /&gt;guy from Domino's."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113455975712976410?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113455975712976410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113455975712976410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455975712976410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455975712976410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/ceo.html' title='The CEO'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113455954738470150</id><published>2005-12-14T03:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:25:47.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Operating Room</title><content type='html'>Two little kids are in a hospital, lying on stretchers next to each &lt;br /&gt;other, outside the operating room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first kid leans over and asks, "What are you in here for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second kid says, "I'm in here to get my tonsils out and I'm a little nervous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first kid says, "You've got nothing to worry about. I had that done when I was four. They put you to sleep, and when you wake up they give you lots of Jell-o and ice-cream. It's a breeze."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second kid then asks, "What are you here for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first kid  says, "A circumcision."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second kid replies, "Whoa, Good luck buddy. I had that done when I &lt;br /&gt;was born. Couldn't walk for a year."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113455954738470150?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113455954738470150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113455954738470150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455954738470150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455954738470150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/operating-room.html' title='The Operating Room'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113455947696683167</id><published>2005-12-14T03:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T03:24:36.993-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jewish surgeons</title><content type='html'>A man is lying on the operating table, about to be operated on by his son, &lt;br /&gt;the surgeon. The father says, "Son, think of it this way...If anything &lt;br /&gt;happens to me, your mother is coming to live with you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113455947696683167?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113455947696683167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113455947696683167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455947696683167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113455947696683167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/jewish-surgeons.html' title='Jewish surgeons'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113446605352882522</id><published>2005-12-13T01:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T01:27:33.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Workplace Ethics</title><content type='html'>Dear Supervisors:&lt;br /&gt;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 coworkers. Due to complaints received from some employees who may be easily offended, this type of language will be no longer be tolerated. We do however, realize  the critical importance of being able to accurately express your feelings when communicating with coworkers, therefore, a list of TRY SAYING" new  phrases has been provided so that proper exchange of ideas and information  can continue in an effective manner without risk of offending our more sensitive employees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" Perhaps I can work late "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;And when the fuck do you expect me to do this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING:&lt;br /&gt;" I'm certain that isn't feasible "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;No fucking way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" Really? "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;You've got to be shitting me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;"Perhaps you should check with . . ."&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Tell someone who gives a shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I wasn't involved in the project "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;It's not my fucking problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I'm not sure this can be implemented "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;This shit won't work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I'll try to schedule that "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Why the hell didn't you tell me sooner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" He's not familiar with the issues "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;He's got his head up his ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;So you weren't happy with it?"&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Kiss my ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I'm a bit overloaded at the moment "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Fuck that, I'm on salary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" You want me to take care of that "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell died and made you boss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I see "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Blow me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" He's somewhat insensitive "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;He's a prick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRY SAYING&lt;br /&gt;" I think you could use more training "&lt;br /&gt;INSTEAD OF&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what the fuck you're doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You,&lt;br /&gt;Human Resources&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113446605352882522?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446605352882522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113446605352882522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446605352882522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446605352882522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/workplace-ethics.html' title='Workplace Ethics'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113446580529892432</id><published>2005-12-13T01:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T01:23:25.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions and Answers</title><content type='html'>Q. How many honest, intelligent, caring men in the world does it take to do the dishes?&lt;br /&gt;A. Both of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why did the man cross the road?&lt;br /&gt;A. He heard the chicken was a slut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why don't women blink during foreplay?&lt;br /&gt;A.They don't have time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do men and sperm have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A.They both have a one-in-a-million chance of becoming a human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q.How does a man show that he is planning for the future?&lt;br /&gt;A. He buys two cases of beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What is the difference between men and government bonds?&lt;br /&gt;A. The bonds mature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why are blonde jokes so short? &gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. So men can remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?&lt;br /&gt;A. We don't know; it has never happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive, caring and good-looking?&lt;br /&gt;A. They already have boyfriends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?&lt;br /&gt;A. A widow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why are married women heavier than single women?&lt;br /&gt;A. Single women come home, see what's in the fridge and go to bed. Married women come home, see what's in bed and go to the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What is the one thing that all men at singles bars have in common?&lt;br /&gt;A.They're married.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113446580529892432?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446580529892432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113446580529892432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446580529892432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446580529892432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/questions-and-answers.html' title='Questions and Answers'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113446569587970268</id><published>2005-12-13T01:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T01:21:35.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Said She Said</title><content type='html'>1) He said . . . I don't now why you wear a bra; you've got nothing to &lt;br /&gt;put in it. She said . . . You wear pants don't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) He said . . . Since I first laid eyes on you I've wanted to make &lt;br /&gt;love to you really badly. She said . . . Well, you succeeded!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) He said . . .Shall we try swapping positions tonight?  She said . . .&lt;br /&gt;That's a good idea - you stand by the ironing board while I sit  on &lt;br /&gt;the sofa and fart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) He said . . .What have you been doing with all the grocery money I gave you?&lt;br /&gt;She said...Turn sideways and look in the mirror!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) He said . . . Why don't you tell me when you have an orgasm?  She said . . . I would but you're never there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) On a wall in a ladies room . . . "My husband follows me everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;"Written just below it . . . " I do not"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113446569587970268?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446569587970268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113446569587970268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446569587970268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446569587970268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/he-said-she-said.html' title='He Said She Said'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113446555537299224</id><published>2005-12-13T01:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T01:19:15.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Priest</title><content type='html'>A man was struck by a bus on a busy street. As he was lying near death on the sidewalk, a crowd of spectators gathered around. "A priest. Somebody get me a priest!" the man gasped. A police officer checked the crowd and yelled, "Is anyone a priest?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of the crowd stepped a little old Jewish man of at least 80 years of age. "Mr. Policeman," said the man, "I'm not a preacher. I'm not even a Christian. But for 50 years now I'm living behind the Catholic church on First Avenue, and every night I'm &lt;br /&gt;overhearing their services. I can recall a lot of it, and maybe I can be of some comfort to this man." The policeman agreed and cleared the crowd so the man could get through to where the injured man lay. He knelt down, leaned over the man and said in a solemn voice,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"B-4, I-19, N-38, G-54, O-72. . ."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113446555537299224?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446555537299224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113446555537299224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446555537299224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446555537299224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/priest.html' title='The Priest'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113446547430164988</id><published>2005-12-13T01:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T01:17:54.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband Wanted</title><content type='html'>A lonely older lady, aged 75, decided it was time to get married. She put a want ad in the local paper that read "HUSBAND WANTED. Must be in my age group, must not beat me, must not run around on me, and must still be good in bed! All applicants must apply in person."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second day, much to her dismay, when she opened the door, there sat a man in a wheelchair. He had no arms or legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked sardonically "You're not expecting me to consider you, are you?&lt;br /&gt;Just look at you----you have no legs!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man smiled, "Therefore no chance to run around on you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She snorted, "You have no arms either!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the old man smiled. "Nor can I beat you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady raised her eyebrows and gazed at him intensely. "Are you&lt;br /&gt;still good in bed?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man smirked and said, "I rang the doorbell didn't I ?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113446547430164988?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446547430164988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113446547430164988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446547430164988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113446547430164988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/husband-wanted.html' title='Husband Wanted'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113438912978702933</id><published>2005-12-12T04:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T04:05:29.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pope and the Rabbi</title><content type='html'>THE POPE AND THE RABBI &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Several centuries ago, the Pope decreed that all the Jews had to convert or leave Italy. There was a huge outcry from the Jewish community, so the Pope offered a deal. He would have a religious debate with the leader of the Jewish community. If the Jews won, they could stay in Italy, if the Pope won, they would have to leave. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Jewish people met and picked an aged but wise Rabbi, Moishe, to represent them in the debate. However, as Moishe spoke no Italian and the Pope spoke no Yiddish, they all agreed that it would be a "silent" debate. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;On the chosen day, the Pope and Rabbi Moishe sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Rabbi Moishe looked back and raised one finger. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Next the Pope waved his finger around his head. Rabbi Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Pope then brought out a communion wafer and a chalice of wine. Rabbi Moishe pulled out an apple. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;With that, the Pope stood up and declared that he was beaten, that Rabbi Moishe was too clever and that the Jews could stay. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Later, the Cardinals met with the Pope, asking what had happened. The Pope said, "First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up one finger to remind me that there is still only one God common to both our beliefs. Then, I waved my finger to show him that God was all around us. He &lt;br /&gt;responded by pointing to the ground to show that God was also right here with us. &lt;br /&gt;I pulled out the wine and wafer to show that God absolves us of all our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of the original sin. He had me beaten and I could not continue." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile the Jewish community were gathered around Rabbi Moishe. "What happened?" they asked. "Well," said Moishe, "First he said to me that we had three days to get out of Italy, so I said to him, Up yours! Then he tells me that the whole country would be cleared of Jews and I said to him, Mr Pope, we're staying right here." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And then what," asked a woman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who knows?" said Moishe, "He took out his lunch so I took out mine."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113438912978702933?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113438912978702933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113438912978702933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113438912978702933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113438912978702933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/pope-and-rabbi.html' title='The Pope and the Rabbi'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113387557961261099</id><published>2005-12-06T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T05:26:19.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Airplane chatter</title><content type='html'>Two strangers are sitting in an adjacent seats in airplane. One guy says to the other, "Let's talk. I hear that the flight will go faster  if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other guy, who  had just opened a good book, closes it slowly, takes off his glasses and asks, "What would you like to discuss?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first guy says, "Oh, I don't know; how about Nuclear Power?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other guy says, "OK, that could make for some pretty interesting conversation. But let me ask you a question first: A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff, but the deer excretes pellets; the cow, big patties; and the horse, clumps of dried grass. Why is that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first guy says, "I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other guy says, "Oh? Well, then, do you really think you're qualified to discuss Nuclear Power when you don't know shit?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113387557961261099?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113387557961261099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113387557961261099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387557961261099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387557961261099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/airplane-chatter.html' title='Airplane chatter'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113387528486128994</id><published>2005-12-06T05:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T05:21:24.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Turner Brown</title><content type='html'>Mike goes into an elevator, looks up and sees this great big huge guy standing next to him.   The big guy sees the little guy staring at him, looks down and says, "7 feet tall, 350 lbs, 20 inch penis, testicles 3 lbs each, Turner Brown".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike just faints dead away and falls to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big dude kneels down and brings him to, by slapping his face and &lt;br /&gt;shaking  him. He asks, "Are you okay??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a very weak voice Mike says, "Excuse me, but what did you just say to me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big dude says, "When I saw the curious look on your face, I just figured  I'd give you the answers to the questions everyone always asks me. "I'm 7 feet tall, weigh 350 lbs, have a 20 inch penis, my testicles weigh 3 lbs each, and my name is Turner Brown."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike said, "Oh Thank God!!! I thought you said 'Turn Around'".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113387528486128994?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113387528486128994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113387528486128994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387528486128994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387528486128994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/turner-brown.html' title='Turner Brown'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113387515884241500</id><published>2005-12-06T05:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T05:19:18.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone message</title><content type='html'>A blonde went into a world wide message center to send a message to her mother overseas.When the man told her it would cost $300.00, she  exclaimed:&lt;br /&gt;"I don't have enough money, I'll do ANYTHING to get a  message to my mother." The man arched an eyebrow (as we would expect). "Anything?"  he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, yes, anything, " the blonde promised.&lt;br /&gt;"Well then, just follow me," said the man as he walked towards  the next room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde did as she was told and followed the man.&lt;br /&gt;"Come in and close the door," the man said.&lt;br /&gt;She did.&lt;br /&gt;He then said, "Now get on your knees."&lt;br /&gt;She did.&lt;br /&gt;"Now take down my zipper."&lt;br /&gt;She did.&lt;br /&gt;"Now go ahead... take it out..." he said.&lt;br /&gt;She reached in and grabbed it with both hands...then paused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man closed his eyes and whispered, "Well...go ahead."&lt;br /&gt;The blonde slowly brought her mouth closer to it, and while holding &lt;br /&gt;it close to her lips, and tentatively said..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, Mom, can you hear me?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113387515884241500?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113387515884241500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113387515884241500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387515884241500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387515884241500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/phone-message.html' title='Phone message'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113387505448231294</id><published>2005-12-06T05:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T05:17:34.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Woman</title><content type='html'>A poem for us.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shave my legs, &lt;br /&gt;I sit down to pee. &lt;br /&gt;And I can justify &lt;br /&gt;any shopping spree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't go to a barber, &lt;br /&gt;but a beauty salon. &lt;br /&gt;I can get a massage &lt;br /&gt;without a hard-on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can balance the checkbook, &lt;br /&gt;I can pump my own gas. &lt;br /&gt;Can talk to my friends, &lt;br /&gt;about the size of my ass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My beauty's a masterpiece, &lt;br /&gt;and yes, it takes long. &lt;br /&gt;At least I can admit, &lt;br /&gt;to others when I'm wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't drive in circles, &lt;br /&gt;at any cost. &lt;br /&gt;And I don't have a problem, &lt;br /&gt;admitting I'm lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never forget, &lt;br /&gt;an important date. &lt;br /&gt;You just gotta deal with it, &lt;br /&gt;I'm usually late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't watch movies, &lt;br /&gt;with lots of gore. &lt;br /&gt;Don't need instant replay, &lt;br /&gt;to remember the score. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't lose my hair, &lt;br /&gt;I don't get jock itch. &lt;br /&gt;And just cause I'm assertive, &lt;br /&gt;Don't call me a bitch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't say to your friends, &lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I can get her. &lt;br /&gt;In your dreams, my dear, &lt;br /&gt;I can do better! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flowers are okay, &lt;br /&gt;But jewelry's best. &lt;br /&gt;Look at me you idiot... &lt;br /&gt;Not at my chest???? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a problem, &lt;br /&gt;With Expressing my feelings. &lt;br /&gt;I know when you're lying, &lt;br /&gt;You look at the ceiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T call me a GIRL , &lt;br /&gt;a BABE or a CHICK . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a WOMAN. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get it?, you DICK!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113387505448231294?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113387505448231294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113387505448231294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387505448231294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387505448231294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-am-woman.html' title='I am Woman'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113387496346817890</id><published>2005-12-06T05:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T05:16:03.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Teachers</title><content type='html'>A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrow's final exam. "Now &lt;br /&gt;class, I won't tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I &lt;br /&gt;might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury or illness, &lt;br /&gt;or a death in your immediate family but that's it, no other excuses &lt;br /&gt;whatsoever!" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A smart-ass guy in the back of the room raised his hand and asks, &lt;br /&gt;"What would you say if tomorrow I said I was suffering from complete and &lt;br /&gt;utter sexual exhaustion?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The entire class does its best to stifle their laughter and snickering. &lt;br /&gt;When silence is restored, the teacher smiles sympathetically at the &lt;br /&gt;student, shakes her head, and sweetly says, &lt;br /&gt;"Well, I guess you'd have to write the exam with your other hand."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113387496346817890?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113387496346817890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113387496346817890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387496346817890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113387496346817890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/teachers.html' title='Teachers'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113366985082479028</id><published>2005-12-03T20:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T20:17:30.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Meal</title><content type='html'>Three guys are about to be executed and they are asked what they wish &lt;br /&gt;to have for their last meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Italian responds, Peperoni Pizza, which he is served and then executed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Frenchmen requests a Filet Mignon, which he is served and then executed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jew requests a plate of strawberries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"STRAWBERRIES???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Strawberries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is told "But they are out of season !"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, I'll wait..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113366985082479028?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113366985082479028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113366985082479028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113366985082479028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113366985082479028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/last-meal.html' title='Last Meal'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113359043180210696</id><published>2005-12-02T22:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T22:13:51.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Anniversary</title><content type='html'>A husband was in big trouble when he forgot his wedding anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;His wife told him "Tomorrow there better be something in the driveway&lt;br /&gt;for me that goes zero to 200 in 2 seconds flat".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next morning the wife found a small package in the driveway.&lt;br /&gt;She opened it and found a brand new bathroom scale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113359043180210696?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113359043180210696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113359043180210696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113359043180210696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113359043180210696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/anniversary.html' title='The Anniversary'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113359038164553728</id><published>2005-12-02T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T22:13:01.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indian Winter</title><content type='html'>It was October and the Indians on a remote reservation&lt;br /&gt;asked their new Chief if the coming winter was going to be cold or mild.&lt;br /&gt;Since he was a Chief in a modern society he had never been taught the&lt;br /&gt;old secrets. When he looked at the sky he couldn't tell what the winter&lt;br /&gt;was going to be like. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, to be on the safe side he told his tribe&lt;br /&gt;that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the&lt;br /&gt;village should collect firewood to be prepared. But being a practical&lt;br /&gt;leader, after several days he got an idea. He went to the phone booth,&lt;br /&gt;called the National Weather Service and asked, "Is the coming winter&lt;br /&gt;going to be cold?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold,"&lt;br /&gt;the meteorologist at the weather service responded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Chief went back to his people and told them to&lt;br /&gt;collect even more firewood in order to be prepared. A week later he&lt;br /&gt;called the National Weather Service again. "Does it still look like it&lt;br /&gt;is going to be a very cold winter?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," the man at National Weather Service again&lt;br /&gt;replied, "it's going to be a very cold winter." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them&lt;br /&gt;to collect every scrap of firewood they could find. Two weeks later the&lt;br /&gt;Chief called the National Weather Service again. "Are you absolutely&lt;br /&gt;sure that the winter is going to be very cold?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Absolutely," the man replied. "It's looking more and&lt;br /&gt;more like it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The weatherman replied,&lt;br /&gt;"The Indians are collecting firewood like crazy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113359038164553728?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113359038164553728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113359038164553728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113359038164553728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113359038164553728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/indian-winter.html' title='Indian Winter'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113342578118629320</id><published>2005-12-01T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T00:29:41.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex in the Dark</title><content type='html'>There was this couple that had been married for 20 years. Every time they&lt;br /&gt;made love the husband always insisted on shutting off the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after 20 years the wife felt this was ridiculous. She figured &lt;br /&gt;she would break him out of this crazy habit. So one night, while they&lt;br /&gt;were in  the middle of a wild, screaming, romantic session, she turned on&lt;br /&gt;the  lights. She looked down... and saw her husband was holding&lt;br /&gt;a  battery-operated leisure device... a vibrator!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soft, wonderful and larger than a real one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went completely ballistic. "You impotent bastard," She  screamed at&lt;br /&gt;him, "how could you be lying to me all of these  years? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You better explain yourself!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband looks her straight in the eyes and says calmly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll explain the toy. You explain the kids."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113342578118629320?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113342578118629320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113342578118629320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113342578118629320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113342578118629320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/12/sex-in-dark.html' title='Sex in the Dark'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113329021998458802</id><published>2005-11-29T10:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T10:51:55.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Soap</title><content type='html'>Two priests are off to the showers late one night. They undress and step into the showers before they realize there is no soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father John says he has soap in his room and goes to get it, not bothering to dress. He grabs two bars of soap, one in each hand, and heads back to the showers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is halfway down the hall when he sees three nuns heading his way. Having no place to hide, he stands against the wall and freezes like he's a statue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nuns stop and comment on how life-like he looks.  The first nun suddenly reaches out and pulls on his manhood. Startled, he drops a bar of soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh look" says the first nun, "it's a soap dispenser".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To test her theory the second nun also pulls on his manhood .... sure enough he drops the second bar of soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the third nun decides to have a go. She pulls once, then twice and three times but nothing happens.  So she gives several more tugs, then yells,  "Holy Mary, Mother of God...... Hand Lotion, too!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113329021998458802?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113329021998458802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113329021998458802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113329021998458802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113329021998458802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/holy-soap.html' title='Holy Soap'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113328994187549711</id><published>2005-11-29T10:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T10:47:05.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Old Ladies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/1600/%21cid_9F0FDC59-9C31-43A6-9EEF-0B2C82963E0B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/320/%21cid_9F0FDC59-9C31-43A6-9EEF-0B2C82963E0B.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two old ladies were outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it started to rain. One of the ladies pulled out a condom, cut off the end, put it over her cigarette, and continued smoking.       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady 1: What's that?       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady 2: A condom. This way my cigarette doesn't get wet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady 1: Where did you get it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady 2: You can get them at any drugstore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Lady 1 hobbles herself into the local drugstore and &lt;br /&gt;announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely (she       &lt;br /&gt;is, after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what brand &lt;br /&gt;she prefers.       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Doesn't matter son, as long as it fits a Camel." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pharmacist fainted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113328994187549711?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113328994187549711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113328994187549711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113328994187549711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113328994187549711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/two-old-ladies.html' title='Two Old Ladies'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113196235819871385</id><published>2005-11-14T01:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T01:59:18.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversations with God</title><content type='html'>A man was wandering around in a field, thinking about how good his&lt;br /&gt;wife had been to him, and how fortunate he was to have her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked God, "Why did you make her so kind hearted?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord responded, "So you could love her, my son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you make her so good looking?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you could love her, my son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you make her such a good cook?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you could love her, my son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man thought about this. Then he said, "I don't mean to seem&lt;br /&gt;ungrateful or anything, but why did you make her so stupid?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So she could love you, my son."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113196235819871385?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113196235819871385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113196235819871385' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196235819871385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196235819871385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/conversations-with-god.html' title='Conversations with God'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113196230048122872</id><published>2005-11-14T01:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T01:58:20.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two-liners - on marriage, doctors, etc</title><content type='html'>I've been in love with the same woman for 49 years.&lt;br /&gt;If my wife ever finds out, she'll kill me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are three words a woman never wants to hear&lt;br /&gt;when she's making love? "Honey, I'm home!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone stole all my credit cards, but I won't be reporting them.&lt;br /&gt;The thief spends less than my wife did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just celebrated 30 years of marriage and we still always hold&lt;br /&gt;hands. If I let go, she shops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I went back to the hotel where we spent our wedding&lt;br /&gt;night, only this time I was the one who stayed in the bathroom &lt;br /&gt;and cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I went to a hotel  last year where we got a waterbed.&lt;br /&gt;My wife called it the Dead Sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was at the beauty shop for two hours. That was for the estimate.&lt;br /&gt;She got a mudpack and looked great for two days. Then the mud &lt;br /&gt;fell off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I go to dinner, I feel sexy. When I go to bed, I feel hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor gave a man six months to live. The man couldn't pay his &lt;br /&gt;bill, so the doctor gave him another six months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doctor called Mrs. Cohen  saying, "Mrs. Cohen, your check came &lt;br /&gt;back." Mrs. Cohen answered, "So did my arthritis!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do Jewish men die before their wives ?  They want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from a pleasure trip.&lt;br /&gt;I took my mother-in-law to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish my brother-in-law would learn a trade,&lt;br /&gt;so I would know what kind of work he's out of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113196230048122872?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113196230048122872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113196230048122872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196230048122872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196230048122872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/two-liners-on-marriage-doctors-etc.html' title='Two-liners - on marriage, doctors, etc'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113196207011634414</id><published>2005-11-14T01:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T01:54:30.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blondes in the office</title><content type='html'>I urgently needed a few days off work, but I knew the Boss would not allow me  to take a leave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that maybe if I acted "CRAZY" then he  would tell me to take a few days off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hung upside down on the  ceiling and made  &lt;br /&gt;funny noises. My co-worker (who's blonde) asked me  what I was doing?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I told her that I was pretending to be a  light bulb so that the Boss would think I was "CRAZY" and give me a few  days off.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the Boss came into the office and  asked "What are you doing ?"  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I told him I was a light bulb.  He said "You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for a couple  of days".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped down and walked out of the  office.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my co-worker (the blonde) followed me, the Boss asked  her " ...And where do you think you're going?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She  said, "I'm going home too, I can't work in the  dark!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113196207011634414?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113196207011634414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113196207011634414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196207011634414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196207011634414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/blondes-in-office.html' title='Blondes in the office'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113196201389556749</id><published>2005-11-14T01:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T01:53:33.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Condoms</title><content type='html'>WHY CONDOMS COME IN BOXES OF 3, 6, AND 12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man walks into a drug store with his 8-year old son. They happen to&lt;br /&gt;walk by the condom display, and the boy asks,"What are these, Dad? To&lt;br /&gt;which the man matter-of-factly replies, "Those are called condoms, son.&lt;br /&gt;Men use them to have safe sex.""Oh I see," replied the boy pensively.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I've heard of that in health class at school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks over the display and picks up a package of 3 and asks, "Why&lt;br /&gt;are there 3 in this package? "The dad replies,"Those are for high school&lt;br /&gt;boys, ONE for Friday, ONE for Saturday, and ONE for Sunday." "Cool"&lt;br /&gt;says the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He notices a 6 pack and asks, "Then who are these for?" "Those are for&lt;br /&gt;college men," the dad answers, TWO for Friday, TWO for Saturday, and&lt;br /&gt;TWO for Sunday." "WOW!" exclaimed the boy, "then who uses THESE?" he&lt;br /&gt;asks, picking up a 12 pack!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a sigh and a tear in his eye, the dad replied, "Those are for&lt;br /&gt;married men. ONE for January, ONE for February, ONE for March....etc."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113196201389556749?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113196201389556749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113196201389556749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196201389556749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113196201389556749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/11/condoms.html' title='Condoms'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-113026385803013292</id><published>2005-10-25T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-25T11:10:58.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Doctor's Office</title><content type='html'>There's nothing worse than a doctor's receptionist who insists you&lt;br /&gt;tell her what is wrong with you in a room full of other patients. I&lt;br /&gt;know most of us have experienced this, and I love the way this old guy&lt;br /&gt;handled it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An 86-year-old man walked into a crowded doctor's waiting room. As&lt;br /&gt;he approached the desk, the receptionist said, "Yes sir, what are&lt;br /&gt;you" seeing the doctor for today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's something wrong with my dick," he replied. The receptionist&lt;br /&gt;became irritated and said, "You shouldn't come into a crowded&lt;br /&gt;doctor's waiting room and say things like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not? You asked me what was wrong and I told you," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist replied, "You've obviously caused some &lt;br /&gt;embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something&lt;br /&gt;wrong with your ear or something and then discussed the problem&lt;br /&gt;further with the doctor in private."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "You shouldn't ask people things in a room full&lt;br /&gt;of others, if the answer could embarrass anyone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man walked out, waited several minutes and then re-entered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist smiled smugly and asked, "Yes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's something wrong with my ear," he stated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist nodded approvingly and smiled, knowing he had&lt;br /&gt;taken her advice. "And what is wrong with your ear, Sir?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't piss out of it," the man replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiting room erupted in laughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-113026385803013292?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/113026385803013292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=113026385803013292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113026385803013292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/113026385803013292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/doctors-office.html' title='The Doctor&apos;s Office'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112966343320505556</id><published>2005-10-18T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T12:23:53.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex on Mars</title><content type='html'>The year is 2222 and Mike and Maureen land on Mars after &lt;br /&gt;accumulating enough Frequent Flier miles. They meet a Martian couple and &lt;br /&gt;are talking about all sorts of things. Mike asks if Mars has a stock &lt;br /&gt;market, if they have laptop computers, how they make money, etc. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Finally, Maureen brings up the subject of sex. &lt;br /&gt;"Just how do you guys do it?" asks Maureen. &lt;br /&gt;The Martian responds, "Pretty much the way you do." &lt;br /&gt;A discussion ensues and finally the couples decide to swap &lt;br /&gt;partners for the night and experience one another. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Maureen and the male Martian go &lt;br /&gt;off to a bedroom where the Martian strips. &lt;br /&gt;He's got only a teeny, weenie dick about half an inch long &lt;br /&gt;and just a quarter-inch thick. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "I don't think this is going to work," says Maureen. &lt;br /&gt;"Why?" he asks. "What's the matter?" &lt;br /&gt;"Well," she replies, "it's just not long enough to reach me!" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "No problem," he says, and proceeds to slap his forehead &lt;br /&gt;with his palm .With each slap of his forehead, his dick grows until it's &lt;br /&gt;quite impressively long. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "Well," she says, "that's quite impressive, but it is still narrow." &lt;br /&gt; "No problem," he says, and starts pulling his ears. With each pull, &lt;br /&gt;his dick grows wider and wider until the entire measurement is &lt;br /&gt;extremely exciting to the woman. &lt;br /&gt;"Wow!" she exclaims, as they fell into bed and made mad, &lt;br /&gt;passionate love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day the couples rejoin their other partners and go their &lt;br /&gt;separate ways. As they walked along, Mike asks, "Well, was &lt;br /&gt;it any good?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I hate to say it," says Maureen, "but it was wonderful. How &lt;br /&gt;about you?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"It was horrible," he replies. "All I got was a headache. &lt;br /&gt;She kept slapping my forehead and pulling my ears."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112966343320505556?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112966343320505556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112966343320505556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966343320505556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966343320505556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/sex-on-mars.html' title='Sex on Mars'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112966281508671546</id><published>2005-10-18T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T12:13:35.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Dave</title><content type='html'>Doctor Dave had slept with one of his patients &lt;br /&gt;and felt guilty all day&lt;br /&gt;long.No matter how much he tried to forget about &lt;br /&gt;it, he couldn't. The&lt;br /&gt;guilt and sense of betrayal was overwhelming. But &lt;br /&gt;every once in a while&lt;br /&gt;he'd hear an internal, reassuring voice in his &lt;br /&gt;head that said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dave, don't worry about it. You aren't the first &lt;br /&gt;medical practitioner&lt;br /&gt;to sleep with one of their patients and you won't &lt;br /&gt;be the last. And&lt;br /&gt;you're single. Just let it go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But invariably another voice in his head would &lt;br /&gt;bring him back to&lt;br /&gt;reality,&lt;br /&gt;whispering:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a vet".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112966281508671546?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112966281508671546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112966281508671546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966281508671546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966281508671546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/dr-dave.html' title='Dr. Dave'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112966276068306419</id><published>2005-10-18T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T12:12:40.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls' Night Out</title><content type='html'>Two women friends had gone for a girl's night out; both  were very&lt;br /&gt;faithful and loving wives.. however, they had  gotten&lt;br /&gt;over-enthusiastic on the Bacardi Breezers. Incredibly drunk,  walking home &lt;br /&gt;they needed to pee, so they stopped in the  cemetery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them had nothing to wipe with so she thought she  would take&lt;br /&gt;off her panties and use them. Her friend however was wearing a  rather&lt;br /&gt;expensive pair of panties and did not want to ruin them, but  was&lt;br /&gt;lucky enough to squat down next to a grave that had a wreath with a  &lt;br /&gt;ribbon on it, so she proceeded to wipe with that. After the girls did  &lt;br /&gt;their business they proceeded to go  home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day one of the women's husbands was  concerned that his&lt;br /&gt;normally sweet and innocent wife was still in bed  hung over, so he&lt;br /&gt;phoned the other husband and  said, "These damn girl nights have  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;got to stop. I'm starting to  suspect the worst...my wife came home  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; with  no panties!" &lt;br /&gt;"That's nothing" said the other  husband, "Mine came back with a &lt;br /&gt;card stuck in the crack of her butt  that said "From all of us at the &lt;br /&gt;Fire Station.We'll never forget  you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112966276068306419?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112966276068306419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112966276068306419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966276068306419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112966276068306419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/girls-night-out.html' title='Girls&apos; Night Out'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112962483467849038</id><published>2005-10-18T01:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T01:40:34.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sexual harrassment</title><content type='html'>Every day, a male co-worker walks up very close to a lady standing at the coffee machine, inhales a big breath of air and tells her that her hair smells nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a week of this, she can't stand it anymore, and takes her complaint to a supervisor in the personnel department and asks to file a sexual harassment grievance against him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Human Resources supervisor is puzzled and asks, "What's sexually threatening about a co-worker telling you your hair smells nice?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replies, "It's Keith, the midget!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112962483467849038?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112962483467849038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112962483467849038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962483467849038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962483467849038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/sexual-harrassment.html' title='sexual harrassment'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112962433893693638</id><published>2005-10-18T01:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T01:32:18.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>YOU GO GIRL!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was sitting with her girlfriends enjoying an after work&lt;br /&gt;drink when an exceptionally tall, handsome, extremely sexy&lt;br /&gt;middle-aged man entered. He was so striking that the woman could&lt;br /&gt;not  take her eyes off him. The young-at-heart man noticed her overly&lt;br /&gt;attentive stare and walked directly toward her. (As all men will.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before she could offer her apologies for so rudely staring, he&lt;br /&gt;leaned over and whispered to her, "I'll do anything, absolutely anything, that&lt;br /&gt;you want me to do, no matter how kinky, for $20.00 - on one condition." (There are always conditions...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flabbergasted, the woman asked what the condition was.&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "You have to tell me what you want me to do in&lt;br /&gt;just three words," (controlling, huh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman considered his proposition for a moment, then slowly removed a&lt;br /&gt;$20 bill from her purse, which she pressed into the man's hand along with her&lt;br /&gt;address.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked deeply into his eyes, and slowly, and meaningfully said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Clean my house."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112962433893693638?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112962433893693638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112962433893693638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962433893693638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962433893693638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/you-go-girl-woman-was-sitting-with-her.html' title=''/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112962210923279467</id><published>2005-10-18T00:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T00:55:09.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Extramarital affairs</title><content type='html'>A housewife takes a lover during the day, while her husband is at work, &lt;br /&gt;not aware that her 9-year-old son was hiding in the closet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband came home unexpectedly, so she hid her lover in the closet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy now has company. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy: "Dark in here." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "Yes it is &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "I have a baseball." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "That's nice." &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "Want to buy it?" &lt;br /&gt;Man: "No, thanks." &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "My dad's outside." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "OK, how much?" &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "$250." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the mom's lover are in the closet together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy: "Dark in here." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "Yes, it is." &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "I have a baseball glove." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "How much?" &lt;br /&gt;Boy: "$750." &lt;br /&gt;Man: "Fine." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, the father says to the boy, "Grab your glove. Let's go &lt;br /&gt;outside and toss the baseball!" &lt;br /&gt;The boy says, "I can't. I sold them." &lt;br /&gt;The father asks, "How much did you sell em for?" &lt;br /&gt;The son says, "$1000." &lt;br /&gt;The father says, "That's terrible to overcharge your friends like that. &lt;br /&gt;That is way more than those two things cost. I'm going to take you to &lt;br /&gt;church and make you confess." &lt;br /&gt;They go to church and the father alerts the priest and makes the little &lt;br /&gt;boy sit in the confession booth and closes the door. &lt;br /&gt;The boy says, "Dark in here." &lt;br /&gt;The priest says, "Don't start that shit again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112962210923279467?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112962210923279467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112962210923279467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962210923279467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112962210923279467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/extramarital-affairs.html' title='Extramarital affairs'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112878638197275044</id><published>2005-10-08T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T08:46:21.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman in a pub</title><content type='html'>A sexy woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her&lt;br /&gt;immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She seductively signaled that he should bring his face closer to&lt;br /&gt;hers. As he did, she gently caressed his full beard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you the manager?"  she asked, softly stroking his face with&lt;br /&gt;both hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Actually, no," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him," she said, running&lt;br /&gt;her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm afraid I can't," breathed the bartender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there anything I can do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes. I need for you to give him a message," she continued, running&lt;br /&gt;her forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple&lt;br /&gt;of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What should I tell him?" the bartender managed to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell him," she whispered, "there's no toilet paper, hand soap, or&lt;br /&gt;paper towels in the ladies room."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112878638197275044?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112878638197275044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112878638197275044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112878638197275044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112878638197275044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/woman-in-pub.html' title='Woman in a pub'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16960539.post-112878610845481746</id><published>2005-10-08T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T08:45:24.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Donald and Daisy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/1600/donald%20and%20daisy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/200/donald%20and%20daisy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donald Duck and Daisy Duck were spending the night together in a hotel room and Donald wanted to have sex with Daisy. The first thing Daisy asked was, "Do you have a condom?"&lt;br /&gt;Donald frowned and said "No."&lt;br /&gt;Daisy told Donald that if he didn't get a condom, they could not have sex. "Maybe they sell them at the front desk," she suggested. So Donald went down to the lobby and asked the hotel clerk if they had condoms.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, we do," the clerk said, and pulled one out from under the counter and gave it to Donald. The clerk asked, "Would you like me to put that on your bill?&lt;br /&gt;"No!" Donald quacked, "What kind of a friggin' pervert do you think I am?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/1600/donald.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4990/386/320/donald.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16960539-112878610845481746?l=hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/feeds/112878610845481746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16960539&amp;postID=112878610845481746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112878610845481746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16960539/posts/default/112878610845481746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalgypsy.blogspot.com/2005/10/donald-and-daisy.html' title='Donald and Daisy'/><author><name>jerusalemgypsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04233784118878245882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
