Advice for the day (Phridee Funnay

Or raise your arm across your face with cocked elbow :) That's an invitation to chow down on your arm!

Ill remember that
Thanks for the tip.

all the best
Eric

> > What retired people do :
> >
> > Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make
> > their days interesting. Well for example, the other day I went into
> > town and went
>to
> > a
> > shop in High street. I was only in there for about 5 minutes. When I
>came
> > out there was a cop writing out a parking ticket.
> >
> > I went up to him and said, "Come on mate, how about giving a senior
> > citizen a break?" He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I
> > called him
>a
> > Nazi Ba*tard. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for
> > having worn tyres.
> >
> > So I called him a piece of stinking dog sh*t.He finished the second
> > ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started
> > writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I
> > abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Personally, I didn't give a
> > sh*t. I came into town by bus.
> >
> > I try to have a little fun each day now that I'm retired. It's
> > important at my age.

cheers

The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won.

The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in

another

race, and surprisingly, it won again.

The local paper read: PASTOR'S WINNING ASS.



The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered

the

pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read:

BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid

of

the donkey.



The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a convent.

The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline

the

next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.

The bishop fainted.

The pastor informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the

donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for ten dollars.

The next day the paper read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.00

This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back

the

donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.

The next day the headlines read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND

FREE.



The bishop was buried the next day.

Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a local neighbourhood tavern.

Late in the evening the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the car park for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five vehicles, the man managed to find his car which he fell into.

He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off. Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a fine dry night), flicked the indicators on, then off, tooted the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few cm, reversed a little and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as some more vehicles left. At last he pulled out of the car park and started to drive slowly down the road.

The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up the patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a breathalyser test.

To his amazement the breathalyser indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all!

Dumbfounded, the officer said "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the Police station this breath-alyser equipment must be broken."

"I doubt it," said the man, "tonight I'm the designated decoy".

You have probably seen them before, but still worth a laugh:

Court Reports

These are from a book called Disorder in the Court.
These are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters - who had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.

Some of these are excellent - don't miss the last one.
====
Q: Are you sexually active?
A: No, I just lie there.
====
Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July fifteenth.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.
====
Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
====
Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something that you've forgotten?
====
Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.
====
Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that morning?
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.
====
Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the occult?
A: We both do.
Q: Voodoo?
A: We do.
Q: You do?
A: Yes, voodoo.
====
Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
====
Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?
====
Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?
====
Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?
====
Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?
====
Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?
====
Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?
====
Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
====
Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
====
Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
A: Oral.
====
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr.Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.
====
Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
====
Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.

All hair removal methods have tricked us with their promises of easy,
painless removal. The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now.... The
Wax!!

My night began as any other normal weekday night. Come home; fix
dinner; played with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring
painfully in my mind for the next few hours; "Maybe I should pull the
wax out of the medicine cabinet?"

So I headed to the site of my demise; the bathroom. It was one of
those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips
together in your hand and then they get warm and you peel them apart,
press it to your leg (or wherever else) and hair comes right off!

No muss, no fuss. How! hard can it be? I mean, I'm no girly, girl, but I
am mechanically inclined enough that I can figure it out.
*YA THINK!!!*

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It is two strips facing each
other, stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, I get out
the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. Cold wax my rear end (Oh, how
this phrase haunts me!). I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin
around it tight and pull.

OK... So it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do
this!!! Hair removal no longer eludes me!! I am She-Ra, fighter of
all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire!!

With my next wax strip, I move "north". After checking on the kids, I
sneak back into the bathroom for the ultimate hair fighting
championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side
of the bikini line, covering the right half of my bleep and stretching
down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip). I
inhale deeply and brace myself.... RRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!

I'm Blind!!!!! Blinded from pain!!!!!!... OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half of
the strip. S**T!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP... Everything is
swirling and spotted. Do I hear crashing drums????? OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - A wax covered strip with my hairy pelt that
has caused me so much pain, sticking to it. I want to revel in the
glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it!

Where is the hair?? WHERE IS THE WAD? Slowly I ease my head down,
foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair . . . the hair that
should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. S**T!!! I run my
fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold
wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake . . . . . . . Remember, my foot is
still propped up on the toilet. I know I need to do something, so I
put my foot down. DAMN!!! I hear the slamming of the cell door.

bleep ? Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut!!! I penguin walk around the
bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself; "Please
don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off."

Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can
stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax covered bits and the
wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right?? *WRONG!!!!*

I get in the tub - The water is slightly hotter than that used to
torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether businesses glued
together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the
tub. In scalding hot water!! - Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax!
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub!!!

God bless the man who convinced me I should have a phone in the
bathroom!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she's waxed before and
has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good
conversation starter, "So my butt and who-ha are stuck to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't have a secret trick, but does
try to hide the laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax
is located on bottom, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or what?"

She's laughing out loud by now... I can hear her. I give her the
rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!! Right!!!!!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax
off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies
covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water,
and then dry shaving the sticky wax off!!!

By now, the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and
I slip into glazed donut land. My friend is still talking with me and
my hand reaches towards the saving grace . . . the lotion they give you
to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I
rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids,
scared the dickens out of my friend, but I really don't care!!

"IT WORKS!! IT WORKS!!" I ge! t a hearty congratulations from my friend
and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and
then notice, to my grief and despair... THE HAIR IS STILL THERE...
ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!

So, I shaved it off. Heck, I'm numb at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color . . . . . . .

I went to the zoo the other day.

But it was really disappointing.

There was just 1 dog there.

It was a bleep zhu!

Beside every sucsessfull man stands a proud wife and a stunned mother in law

The Eulogy

She married and had 13 children. Her husband died.

She married again and had 7 more children.

Again, her husband died. But, she remarried and this time had 5 more children.

Alas, she finally died. Standing before her coffin, the priest prayed for her. He thanked the Lord for this very loving woman and said, "Lord, they're finally together."

One mourner leaned over and quietly asked her friend,
"Do you think he means her first, second or third husband?"

The friend replied, "I think he means her legs