<?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-8275089</id><updated>2012-01-09T07:02:16.494Z</updated><title type='text'>:) Funny and Interesting Observations</title><subtitle type='html'>This site contains interesting stories and funny pics  from Internet. It gets renewed almost every day, that is why You should subscribe to new posts ....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>461</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112791783952403412</id><published>2005-09-28T14:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-06T21:17:37.926Z</updated><title type='text'>Halloween :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050927picccszv_23.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112791783952403412?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112791783952403412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112791783952403412&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791783952403412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791783952403412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/halloween.html' title='Halloween :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112791755459324431</id><published>2005-09-28T14:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2005-09-28T14:25:54.596Z</updated><title type='text'>How To Lie To The Bathroom Scale</title><content type='html'>Weigh yourself with clothes on, after dinner as well as in the morning, without clothes, before breakfast, because it's nice to see how much weight you've lost over- night.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never weigh yourself with wet hair.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When weighing, remove everything, including glasses. In this case, blurred vision is an asset. Don't forget the earrings, these things can weigh at least a pound.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use cheap scales only, never the medical kind, because they are always five pounds off...to your advantage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always go to the bathroom first.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stand with arms raised, making pressure on the scale lighter.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't eat or drink in the morning until AFTER you've weighed in, completely naked, of course.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weigh yourself after a haircut, this is good for at least half a pound of hair (hopefully).   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exhale with all your might BEFORE stepping onto the scale (air has to weigh something, right?).   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start out with just one foot on the scale, then holding onto the towel rack in front of you, slowly edge your other foot on and slowly let off of the rack. Admittedly, this takes time, but it's worth it. You will weigh at least two pounds less than if you'd stepped on normally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112791755459324431?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112791755459324431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112791755459324431&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791755459324431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791755459324431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/how-to-lie-to-bathroom-scale.html' title='How To Lie To The Bathroom Scale'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112791751900686434</id><published>2005-09-28T14:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-28T14:25:19.013Z</updated><title type='text'>Norman Has to GO</title><content type='html'>Norman was excited about his first day at school. So excited in fact, that only a few minutes after class started, he realized that he desperately needed to go to the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Norman raised his hand politely to ask if he could be excused. Of course the teacher said yes, but asked Norman to be quick. Five minutes later Norman returned, looking more desperate and embarrassed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't find it," he admitted. The teacher sat Norman down and drew him a little diagram to where he should go and asked him if he will be able to find it now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Norman looked at the diagram, said "yes" and goes on his way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well five minutes later he returned to the class room and says to the teacher "I can't find it". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated, the teacher asked Eddie, a boy who has been at the school for awhile, to help him find the bathroom. So Eddie and Norman go together and five minutes later they both return and sit down at their seats. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher asks Eddie "Well, did you find it?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie is quick with his reply: "Oh sure, he just had his boxer shorts on backwards."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112791751900686434?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112791751900686434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112791751900686434&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791751900686434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791751900686434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/norman-has-to-go.html' title='Norman Has to GO'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112791745540621623</id><published>2005-09-28T14:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-28T14:24:15.453Z</updated><title type='text'>Excuse Me Etiquette</title><content type='html'>During class, a teacher was attempting to teach good manners.  She asks a student, "Michael, if you were on a date, having dinner with a nice young lady, how would you tell her that you needed to use the bathroom?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just a minute, I have to go pee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher replied, "That would be rude and impolite!  What about you John, how would you say it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher responded, "That's better, but it's still not nice to use the word bathroom at the table.  And you Peter, how would you show your good manners?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would say: Darling, may I please be excused for a moment, I have to shake hands with a very dear friend of mine, whom I hope you'll get to meet after dinner."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112791745540621623?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112791745540621623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112791745540621623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791745540621623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112791745540621623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/excuse-me-etiquette.html' title='Excuse Me Etiquette'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112780403564695459</id><published>2005-09-27T06:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-27T06:54:56.260Z</updated><title type='text'>Assiduous Musician :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/poh9uif.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112780403564695459?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112780403564695459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112780403564695459&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112780403564695459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112780403564695459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/assiduous-musician.html' title='Assiduous Musician :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112774475327601950</id><published>2005-09-26T14:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-26T14:25:53.286Z</updated><title type='text'>Airline</title><content type='html'>A blonde buys a plane ticket to Miami. (It's a coach Ticket). When she gets on the plane she sits in first class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The steward who checks tickets says, "I'm so sorry, this is a coach ticket and your sitting in 1st class."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can do What-eva I want, I'm a blonde." Well I'll get the pilot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot comes and whispers in the blondes ear and she leaves. The steward looks amazed and says," What did you say?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot simply says," I told her 1st class wasn't going to Miami, just coach was!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112774475327601950?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112774475327601950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112774475327601950&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774475327601950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774475327601950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/airline.html' title='Airline'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112774466071458445</id><published>2005-09-26T14:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-26T14:24:20.720Z</updated><title type='text'>South African Duck</title><content type='html'>There was once a man by the name of Fred. He was a Farmer on the inlands of the cape in South Africa. Fred had 3 sons who were Jack, LenZ and Putty.As Fred grew older he decided to give the farm to one of his 3 sons. There was a dillema however as he didnt have a clue as to which son he was going to choose. For hours on end he would think of a way in which he could choose one son, which brought about his idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day he gathered his sons around the table and told them that he was getting old, too old to run the farm. He then added that he was going to have a contest to decide the son that inherets the farm. He thereafter went into the barn and fetched a duck that was in good condition. He gave each son 1 and said, "The one who brings me the most for the duck wins."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that being said,Jack imediatly left and returned in 2 hours with an amount of 10 rands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Jack had returned, LenZ left whilst thinking to himself,"I could easily beat 10 rands"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Returning the next day, LenZ brought in an amount of 20 rands. Fred was very proud of LenZ and commended him upon his good work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After seeing that LenZ had brought in an amount of 20 rands, Putty the youngest son packed his bags before he left. Fred came up to Putty and asked why he had packed so much, with Putty Replying, "Im going to the city dad and when i come back im gonna own my own farm!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impressed with his son,he waved Putty of as he took a stroll away from the farm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ariving in Cape town, the "mother city", Putty walked past the shops with a chicken at hand wondering who would be eligible to buy it for more than 20 rands. He then stopped in amazement as he saw for the very 1st time a XXX shop. Being the youngest and most curious he decided to go inside. At the Reception the was a young attractive female with blue eyes. Since Putty didnt have any money he decided to pay with the Duck. He was then escourted by the lady to room 6 which is were he had the best sex in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the steaming sex he had no Duck. Seeing that the lady enjoyed the sex so much he handed her the duck and then said,"Hey,thats a nice Duck u got there,Ill fuck u for it"&lt;br /&gt;After the lady agreed, she put down the duck and Fucked him again, this time more wilder than the 1st! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After putting their clothes back on, the lady went to fetch the duck but found that the duck was MISSING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They looked everywere for it, in every room, and then they went out onto the roadside. There was a man on the side of the road on his knees and crying. Putty asked him why he was crying and he said that he had never harmed an animal before and today he killed a duck by driving over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putty then thought to himself, "I could report this and get the man in deep shit, or I could force him into paying me not to tell!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After choosing the 2nd option by telling the man that that was his duck, the man agreed that reporting it would mean he would also have his licence suspended,So he paid Putty a sum of 30 rands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 4 days later and Putty Has just returned home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His father asks him very proudly, "So son, what did u get for your Duck?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and of course very proudly Putty said,"I got a fuck for a duck,a duck for a fuck,and 30 rands for a fucked up duck!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112774466071458445?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112774466071458445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112774466071458445&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774466071458445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774466071458445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/south-african-duck.html' title='South African Duck'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112774458990586722</id><published>2005-09-26T14:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-26T14:23:09.913Z</updated><title type='text'>Those Naughty, Naughty Pets!</title><content type='html'>A man walks into a bar and says "Bartender gimme a triple shot of Jack". &lt;br /&gt;The bartender pours, and the man downs it, slams the glass on the bar and says "Another". &lt;br /&gt;The bartender pours another. The man downs it and says "Another". &lt;br /&gt;As the bartender pours the third glass he says, "Mister you drink like you have a problem. Want to talk about it?" &lt;br /&gt;The man says, "Ten years, ten years I've been married to my wife, and today I go home a little early to surprise her, and I find my best friend, MY BEST FRIEND, in bed having sex with her." &lt;br /&gt;The bartender says "Geez, what did you say."&lt;br /&gt;The man says " I told him, BAD DOG! BAD DOG!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112774458990586722?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112774458990586722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112774458990586722&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774458990586722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112774458990586722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/those-naughty-naughty-pets.html' title='Those Naughty, Naughty Pets!'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112749160362380598</id><published>2005-09-23T16:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-23T16:08:10.360Z</updated><title type='text'>The Best Workplace :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/prog_3_7090022.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112749160362380598?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112749160362380598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112749160362380598&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749160362380598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749160362380598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/best-workplace.html' title='The Best Workplace :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112749137241581278</id><published>2005-09-23T16:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-23T16:02:52.423Z</updated><title type='text'>The Gold Toilet</title><content type='html'>Before the 2001 inauguration of George Bush, he was invited to a get-acquainted tour of the White House. After drinking several glasses of iced tea, he asked Bill Clinton if he could use his personal bathroom. When he entered Clinton's private toilet, he was astonished to see that President Clinton had a solid gold urinal. That afternoon, George told his wife, Laura, about the urinal. "Just think," he said, "when I am president, I could have a gold urinal too. But I wouldn't do something that self indulgent!" Later when Laura had lunch with Hillary at her tour of the White House, she told Hillary how impressed George had been at his discovery of the fact that, in the President's private bathroom, the President had a gold urinal.  That evening, when Bill and Hillary were getting ready for bed, Hillary smiled, and said to Bill, "I found out who pissed in your saxophone."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112749137241581278?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112749137241581278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112749137241581278&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749137241581278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749137241581278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/gold-toilet.html' title='The Gold Toilet'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112749129212528196</id><published>2005-09-23T16:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-23T16:01:32.140Z</updated><title type='text'>You Think A Gallon Of Gas Is Expensive?</title><content type='html'>Perspectives... &lt;br /&gt;Makes one think, and puts things in perspective. &lt;br /&gt;Diet Snapple 16 oz $1.29 ......... $10.32 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Lipton Ice Tea 16 oz $1.19 ....... $ 9.52 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Gatorade 20 oz $1.59 ............. $10.17 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Ocean Spray 16 oz $1.25 .......... $10.00 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Brake Fluid 12 oz $3.15 .......... $33.60 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Vick's Nyquil 6 oz $8.35 ......... $178.13 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Pepto Bismol 4 oz $3.85 .......... $123.20 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Whiteout 7 oz $1.39 .............. $25.42 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;Scope 1.5 oz $0.99 ............... $84.48 per gallon &lt;br /&gt;this is the REAL KICKER...... &lt;br /&gt;Evian water 9 oz for $1.49 ....... $21.19 per gallon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$21.19 FOR WATER! ....and the buyers don't even know the source. &lt;br /&gt;But then again Evian spelled backwards is naive &lt;br /&gt;So, the next time you're at the pump, be glad your car doesn't run on water, &lt;br /&gt;Scope, or Whiteout, or God forbid, PEPTO BISMOL or NYQUIL!!!! &lt;br /&gt;Just a little humor to help ease the pain of your next trip to the pump...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112749129212528196?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112749129212528196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112749129212528196&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749129212528196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749129212528196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/you-think-gallon-of-gas-is-expensive.html' title='You Think A Gallon Of Gas Is Expensive?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112749103519301969</id><published>2005-09-23T15:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-23T15:57:15.250Z</updated><title type='text'>In The Beginning</title><content type='html'>In the beginning God covered the earth with broccoli and cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then using God's bountiful gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's and Krispy Kreme. And Satan said, "You want hot fudge with that?" And Man said "Yes!" and Woman said, "I'll have another with sprinkles." And lo they gained 10 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair.  And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane, and combined them. And Woman went from size 2 to size 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented crumbled Bleu Cheese dressing and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried coconut shrimp, butter dipped lobster chunks and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man's cholesterol went through the roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God then brought forth running shoes so that his Children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan came forth with a cable TV with remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And man and woman laughed and cried before the flickering light and started wearing stretch jogging suits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with potassium and good nutrition. Then Satan peeled off the healthful skin, sliced the starchy center into chips, deep-fried them in animal fats, and added copious quantities of salt. And Man put on more pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and the 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then Lucifer said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size 'em!" And Satan said "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery. And Satan created HMOs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMEN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112749103519301969?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112749103519301969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112749103519301969&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749103519301969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112749103519301969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/in-beginning.html' title='In The Beginning'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112738849618579379</id><published>2005-09-22T11:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-22T11:29:06.363Z</updated><title type='text'>Fire to Drink :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050915burn1.jpg'/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112738849618579379?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112738849618579379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112738849618579379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738849618579379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738849618579379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/fire-to-drink.html' title='Fire to Drink :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112738836457883967</id><published>2005-09-22T11:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-22T11:26:04.583Z</updated><title type='text'>GW &amp; Clinton</title><content type='html'>George W. Bush and Bill Clinton somehow ended up at the same barber shop. As they sat there, each being worked on by a different barber, not a word was spoken. The barbers were both afraid to start a conversation, for fear it would turn to politics. As the barbers finished their shaves, the one who had Clinton in his chair reached for the aftershave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clinton was quick to stop him saying, "No thanks, my wife, Hillary, will smell that and think I've been in a whorehouse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second barber turned to Bush and said, "How about you Mr. President?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush replied, "Go ahead, my wife doesn't know what the inside of a whorehouse smells like."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112738836457883967?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112738836457883967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112738836457883967&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738836457883967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738836457883967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/gw-clinton.html' title='GW &amp; Clinton'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112738831577122431</id><published>2005-09-22T11:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-22T11:25:15.776Z</updated><title type='text'>Signs You Bought a Lemon for a Car</title><content type='html'>As you leave the used car lot, you see the owner rush out with a gigantic smile and high-five the salesman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You notice that the car phone they threw in "for free" has a direct line to Moe's Towing Company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The booster cables are not in the trunk but are permanently soldered to the battery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hood has been equipped with a push-button device for quick and easy opening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "Purchased From" sticker at the bottom of the rear license plate has been removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get a "Good Luck" card from the previous owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you drive up to a service station for gas, the mechanic opens the big door to the service bay and waves you in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you leave for work the next morning, you notice a tow truck parked about a block from your driveway. As you drive by, it silently falls in behind you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little "Service Engine" warning signal in the dashboard comes on and reads "It's Me Again."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112738831577122431?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112738831577122431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112738831577122431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738831577122431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738831577122431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/signs-you-bought-lemon-for-car.html' title='Signs You Bought a Lemon for a Car'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112738827294906533</id><published>2005-09-22T11:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-22T11:24:32.956Z</updated><title type='text'>Top Reasons To Buy A New Car</title><content type='html'>* Your passenger seat is on the National Register of Historic Places.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Instead of an air bag, there's a whoopee cushion taped to your steering wheel.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* You lose the stoplight challenge to a 14-year-old on a moped.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* 15 minute JiffyLube needs to keep your car for 3 days.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When you gas up, the attendant asks, "Can I re-duct tape that windshield for you?"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Thieves repeatedly break in your car just to steal "The Club."   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* While sitting at a stop light, people keep running up to you and asking if anyone was hurt.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* For the last five years, you've had to settle for making "vroom, vroom" noises while in the driveway.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* You keep losing dates on left turns.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Traffic reporters start referring to you by name when discussing morning tie-ups.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112738827294906533?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112738827294906533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112738827294906533&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738827294906533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112738827294906533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/top-reasons-to-buy-new-car.html' title='Top Reasons To Buy A New Car'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112566415924491101</id><published>2005-09-02T12:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-02T12:30:25.916Z</updated><title type='text'>Let's Go to School :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050901school.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112566415924491101?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112566415924491101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112566415924491101&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566415924491101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566415924491101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/lets-go-to-school.html' title='Let&apos;s Go to School :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112566410117346223</id><published>2005-09-02T12:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-02T12:28:21.180Z</updated><title type='text'>Can I Go to Hell Instead?</title><content type='html'>An old lady dies and goes to heaven.  She's chatting it up with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates when all of a sudden she hears the most awful blood-curdling screams. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry about that," says St. Peter, "it's only someone having the holes put into her shoulder blades for wings." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady looks a little uncomfortable but carries on with the conversation. Ten minutes later, there are more blood curdling screams Oh my God, "says the old lady, "now what is happening?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Not to worry," says St.  Peter, "She's just having her head drilled to fit the halo." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't do this," says the old lady, "I'm going to hell." "You can't go there, "says St. Peter. "You'll be raped and sodomized." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe so," says the old lady, "but I've already got the holes for that!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112566410117346223?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112566410117346223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112566410117346223&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566410117346223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566410117346223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/can-i-go-to-hell-instead.html' title='Can I Go to Hell Instead?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112566405897652474</id><published>2005-09-02T12:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-02T12:27:38.983Z</updated><title type='text'>Bran  Muffins</title><content type='html'>The couple were 85 years old, and had been married for sixty years. Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they  watched their pennies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to the  wife's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, their good health didn't help when they went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They reached the pearly gates, and St.  Peter escorted them inside.  He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath.  A maid could  be  seen hanging their favorite clothes in the closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They gasped in astonishment when he said, "Welcome to Heaven.  This will be your home now." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost.  "Why, nothing," Peter replied, "remember, this is your reward in Heaven." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever-built on Earth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are the greens fees?", grumbled the old man.!   "This is heaven," St.  Peter replied.  "You can play for free, every day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.   "Don't even ask," said St.  Peter to the man.  "This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy." The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife.   "Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods, and the decaffeinated tea?" he asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's the best part," St.  Peter replied.  "You can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like, and you will never get fat or sick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Heaven!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man pushed, "No gym to work out at?"  "Not unless you want to," was the answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No testing my sugar or blood pressure or..." &lt;br /&gt;"Never again.  All you do here is enjoy yourself." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man glared at his wife and said, "You and your bran muffins. We could have been here ten years ago!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112566405897652474?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112566405897652474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112566405897652474&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566405897652474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566405897652474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/bran-muffins.html' title='Bran  Muffins'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112566399982114986</id><published>2005-09-02T12:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-02T12:26:39.873Z</updated><title type='text'>Furious</title><content type='html'>When Pope John Paul II got to heaven, St. Peter told him he was lucky to be there. John Paul asked, "Why? What did I do wrong on earth?" "God was angry with your refusal to admit female priests," said St. Peter. "He's mad about that?" the late pope asked. St. Peter replied, "She's furious."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112566399982114986?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112566399982114986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112566399982114986&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566399982114986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112566399982114986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/09/furious.html' title='Furious'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112434982911563611</id><published>2005-08-18T07:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-09-01T07:33:17.623Z</updated><title type='text'>Veteran Cat :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/%21cid_02a901c597b5%241ba0e090%246401a8c0%40KITKAT.jpg' /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112434982911563611?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112434982911563611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112434982911563611&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434982911563611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434982911563611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/veteran-cat.html' title='Veteran Cat :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112434933305579218</id><published>2005-08-18T07:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-18T07:15:33.063Z</updated><title type='text'>Wabbits</title><content type='html'>A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep wittle wabbits?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shopkeeper gets down on his knees (so that he's on her level) and asks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want a wittle white wabby or a soft and fuwwy black wabby or maybe one like that cute wittle brown wabby over there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says in a quiet voice:,,,,,"I don't fink my pyfon weally gives a thit."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112434933305579218?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112434933305579218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112434933305579218&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434933305579218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434933305579218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/wabbits.html' title='Wabbits'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112434921573733196</id><published>2005-08-18T07:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-18T07:13:35.743Z</updated><title type='text'>Before And After Marriage</title><content type='html'>Before - You take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;After - I feel like I'm suffocating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Twice a night.&lt;br /&gt;After - Twice a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - She loves the way I take control of a Situation.&lt;br /&gt;After - She called me a controlling, manipulative, egomaniac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Ricky &amp; Lucy.&lt;br /&gt;After - Fred &amp; Ethel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Saturday Night Live.&lt;br /&gt;After - Monday Night Football.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - He makes me feel like a million dollars.&lt;br /&gt;After - If I had a dime for every stupid thing he's done...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Don't Stop.&lt;br /&gt;After - Don't Start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - The Sound of Music.&lt;br /&gt;After - The Sound of Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Is that all you are eating?&lt;br /&gt;After - Maybe you should just have a salad, honey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Wheel of Fortune.&lt;br /&gt;After - Jeopardy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - It's like living a dream.&lt;br /&gt;After - It's a nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - $60/dozen.&lt;br /&gt;After - $1.50/stem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Turbocharged.&lt;br /&gt;After - Needs a jump-start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - We agree on everything!&lt;br /&gt;After - Doesn't she have a mind of her own?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Victoria's Secret.&lt;br /&gt;After - Fruit of the Loom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Feathers &amp; handcuffs.&lt;br /&gt;After - Ball and chain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Idol.&lt;br /&gt;After - Idle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - He's lost without me.&lt;br /&gt;After - Why can't he ask for directions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - When together, time stands still.&lt;br /&gt;After - This relationship is going nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Croissant and cappuccino.&lt;br /&gt;After - Bagels and instant coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Oysters.&lt;br /&gt;After - Fishsticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - I can hardly believe we found each other.&lt;br /&gt;After - How the hell did I end up with someone like you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before - Romeo and Juliet.&lt;br /&gt;After - Bill and Hillary..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112434921573733196?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112434921573733196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112434921573733196&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434921573733196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434921573733196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/before-and-after-marriage.html' title='Before And After Marriage'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112434908858062452</id><published>2005-08-18T07:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-18T07:11:28.586Z</updated><title type='text'>Things To Do When Watching Lord Of The Rings</title><content type='html'>Stand up halfway through the movie and yell loudly, "Wait...where the hell is Harry Potter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Block the entrance to the theater while screaming, "YOU.....SHALL.... NOT..... PASS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Play a drinking game where you have to take a sip every time someone says, "the Ring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point and laugh whenever someone dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask everyone around you if they think Gandalf went to Hogwarts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finish off every one of Elrond's lines with "Mister Ander- son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Aragorn is crowned king, stand up and at the top of your lungs sing, "And I did it.... MY way...!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk like Gollum all through the movie. At the end, bite off someone's finger and fall down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dress up as old ladies and re-enact "The Battle of Helms Deep," Monty Python style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Denethor lights the fire, shout "Barbecue!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Ents decide to march to war, stand up and shout, "RUN FOREST, RUN!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time someone kills an Orc, yell: "That's what I'm Tolkien about!" See how long it takes before you get kicked out of the theatre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During a wide shot of a battle, inquire, "Where's Waldo?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk loudly about how you heard that there is a single frame of a nude Elf hidden somewhere in the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start an Orc sing-a-long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to the premiere dressed as Frankenfurter and wander around looking terribly confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they go in the paths of the dead, wait for a tense moment and shout, "I see dead people!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imitate what you think a conversation between Gollum, Dobby and Yoda would be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Release a jar of daddy-long-legs into the theater during the Shelob scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder out loud if Aragorn is going to run for governor of California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Shelob comes on, exclaim, "Man! Charlotte's really let herself go!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Frodo is standing, hesitating to drop the ring, yell 'Get on with it!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the armies attack the massive elephant creatures, start griping loudly about how it's a blatant rip-off of Star Wars and the battle with the walkers on Endor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insist you can spot William Wallace in the scene right before the final battle charge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insist Gandalf is played by Jean Luc Picard, who has no real magic, just some decent melee skills, and incredible futuristic knowledge of how everything seems to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112434908858062452?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112434908858062452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112434908858062452&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434908858062452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112434908858062452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/things-to-do-when-watching-lord-of.html' title='Things To Do When Watching Lord Of The Rings'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112409138215546548</id><published>2005-08-15T07:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-16T14:11:11.830Z</updated><title type='text'>Apricots? :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050812abrikosu.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112409138215546548?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112409138215546548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112409138215546548&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409138215546548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409138215546548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/apricots.html' title='Apricots? :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112409130839235578</id><published>2005-08-15T07:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-15T07:35:08.533Z</updated><title type='text'>The Moral of the Story:</title><content type='html'>I happened to pass a house with a little red light burning in front, in an alley way in back of the London Hilton, so I stepped inside to see what may be on offer. There was nothing in sight and nothing there but an empty bare hallway, with two doors reading, "Over 35" and "Under 35." I decided to be truthful and entered the door that said, "Over 35."and found myself in another empty hallway, this one with two doors that read, "Over 8 inches" and "Under 8 inches." Truthful again, I went through the "Under 8 inches" door and found myself in another empty hall, with two more doors reading, "Once a night" and "Over 4 times a night." Still wanting to be truthful, I entered the door marked "Once a night" and found myself back out on the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of this story is: "Always tell the truth and you'll never get screwed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112409130839235578?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112409130839235578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112409130839235578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409130839235578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409130839235578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/moral-of-story.html' title='The Moral of the Story:'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112409117908034729</id><published>2005-08-15T07:32:00.001Z</published><updated>2005-08-15T07:32:59.086Z</updated><title type='text'>Buying a Car</title><content type='html'>Police Officer O'Leary is cruising around in his patrol car one night. He's on the lookout for trouble. He sees two little old ladies in the front seat of a Chevrolet convertible, parked in a used car lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car lot is closed so O'Leary drives up alongside the Chevy and asks, "Are you two ladies trying to steal this car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Certainly not," says one of the ladies, "We purchased the car this afternoon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the cop, "Why don't you start it up and drive out of here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We don't drive," replies the other little old lady. "And besides we are waiting".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you waiting for?", asked the cop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady sitting in the drivers seat replies," We were told that if we ever bought a car from here we would get screwed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112409117908034729?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112409117908034729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112409117908034729&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409117908034729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409117908034729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/buying-car.html' title='Buying a Car'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112409113338226573</id><published>2005-08-15T07:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-15T07:32:16.173Z</updated><title type='text'>Initiation Fee</title><content type='html'>Bob knocked on the door of the house where a cab driver had told him he could be sexually accommodated. An eye-level panel slid open and a female voice asked what he wanted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to get screwed," said Bob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, mister, but this is a private club, so slip $20, as an initiation fee, through the mail slot," answered the voice. Bob put the money in the mail slot, the panel was closed, minutes passed. Nothing happened. He began to pound on the door insistently, and the panel slid open. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey," exclaimed Bob, "I want to get screwed!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What," said the female voice, "again?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112409113338226573?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112409113338226573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112409113338226573&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409113338226573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112409113338226573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/initiation-fee.html' title='Initiation Fee'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112385078221390347</id><published>2005-08-12T12:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-12T14:36:12.480Z</updated><title type='text'>Summer :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light200508041123124799.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112385078221390347?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112385078221390347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112385078221390347&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385078221390347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385078221390347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/summer.html' title='Summer :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112385066391311201</id><published>2005-08-12T12:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-12T12:44:23.920Z</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Q &amp; As</title><content type='html'>Q: Did you hear about the blonde couple that were found frozen to death in their car at a drive-in movie theater?&lt;br /&gt;A: They went to see "Closed for the Winter". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why won't they hire a blonde pharmacist? &lt;br /&gt;A: They keep breaking the prescription bottles in the typewriters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: A blonde is walking down the street with a pig under her arm. She passes a person who asks "Where did you get that?" &lt;br /&gt;A: The pig says, "I won her in a raffle!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: A blonde ordered a pizza and the clerk asked if he should cut it in six or twelve pieces. &lt;br /&gt;A: "Six, please. I could never eat twelve pieces." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did the blonde do when she heard that 90% of accidents occur around the home? &lt;br /&gt;A: She moved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you hear about Pepsi's new soda just for blondes? &lt;br /&gt;A: It has "open other end" printed on the bottom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do blondes always rapidly flap their hands towards theirs ears? &lt;br /&gt;A: They're refueling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why did the blonde purchase an AM radio? &lt;br /&gt;A: She didn't want one for nights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What about the blonde who gave birth to twins? &lt;br /&gt;A: Her husband is out looking for the other man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you hear about the dead blonde in the closet? &lt;br /&gt;A: She was last years hide and seek winner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do blondes like lightning? &lt;br /&gt;A: They think someone is taking their picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do blondes have little holes all over their faces? &lt;br /&gt;A: From eating with forks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do blondes drive BMWs? &lt;br /&gt;A: Because they can spell it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do Blondes have TGIF on their shoes? &lt;br /&gt;A: Toes go in first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do blondes wear their hair up? &lt;br /&gt;A: To catch as much as they can that is over their heads. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why don't blondes double recipes? &lt;br /&gt;A: The oven doesn't go to 700 degrees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why don't blondes make good pharmacists? &lt;br /&gt;A: They can't get the bottle into the typewriter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why don't blondes call 911 in an emergency? &lt;br /&gt;A: They can't remember the number. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why don't blondes call 911 in an emergency? &lt;br /&gt;A: She can't find the number 11 on the telephone buttons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How many blondes does it take to change a light bulb? &lt;br /&gt;A: "What's a light bulb?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112385066391311201?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112385066391311201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112385066391311201&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385066391311201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385066391311201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/blonde-q-as.html' title='Blonde Q &amp; As'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112385056235071997</id><published>2005-08-12T12:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-12T12:42:42.373Z</updated><title type='text'>The Nail</title><content type='html'>As Bill headed out to work his fields, he told his new, blonde, city-girl wife, "The artificial insemination man is coming by today to impregnate one of our cows today. Can you show him where it is?" "How will I know which cow?" asked Amy. "They all look alike." "Oh, I drove a nail above the cow's stall. You'll see it," he said, leaving the house. Later, when the artificial insemination man arrived, Amy walked him down the long row of cows until she saw the nail and said, "This is the cow right here!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impressed, the man asked, "How did you know this is the right cow?" "By the nail over its stall." He looked puzzled. "What's the nail for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she walked away, she flipped her long blonde hair and replied, "I guess it's to hang up your pants!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112385056235071997?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112385056235071997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112385056235071997&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385056235071997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112385056235071997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/nail.html' title='The Nail'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112384897711901752</id><published>2005-08-12T12:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-12T12:16:17.173Z</updated><title type='text'>Two Red Ears</title><content type='html'>A blonde with two red ears went to her doctor. The doctor asked her what had happened to her ears and she answered, "I was ironing a shirt and the phone rang - but instead of picking up the phone I accidentally picked up the iron and stuck it to my ear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Dear!" the doctor exclaimed in disbelief. "But, what happened to your other ear?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The jerk called back!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112384897711901752?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112384897711901752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112384897711901752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112384897711901752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112384897711901752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/two-red-ears.html' title='Two Red Ears'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112348586828359206</id><published>2005-08-08T07:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-12T09:45:47.820Z</updated><title type='text'>Landing Force :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/%21cid_020601c59872%24c8d91210%246401a8c0%40KITKAT.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112348586828359206?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112348586828359206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112348586828359206&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348586828359206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348586828359206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/landing-force.html' title='Landing Force :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112348572537275116</id><published>2005-08-08T07:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-08T07:22:05.376Z</updated><title type='text'>Things PMS Stands For</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;        Pass My Shotgun &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Psychotic Mood Shift &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Pack My Stuff &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Permanent Menstrual Syndrome &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Perpetual Munching Spree  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Puffy Midsection  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        People Make Me Sick  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Provide Me with Sweets  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Pardon My Sobbing  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Pimples May Surface  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Pass My Sweatpants  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Pissy Mood Syndrome  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Plainly Men Suck &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        And the number one thing PMS Stands for........ &lt;br /&gt;Who Cares?     I'm not in the mood to play this game anymore!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112348572537275116?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112348572537275116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112348572537275116&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348572537275116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348572537275116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/things-pms-stands-for.html' title='Things PMS Stands For'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112348566998677185</id><published>2005-08-08T07:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-08T07:21:09.993Z</updated><title type='text'>Ways to know if you have PMS</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;        Everyone around you has an attitude problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        You're adding chocolate chips to your cheese omelet &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        The drier has shrunk every last pair of your jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Your husband is suddenly agreeing to everything you say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        You're using your cellular phone to dial up every bumper sticker that says, "How's my driving call 1-800-***-****."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        Everyone's head looks like an invitation to batting practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        You're convinced there's a God and he's male.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        You're counting down the days until menopause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        You're sure that everyone is scheming to drive you crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;        The ibuprofen bottle is empty and you bought it yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112348566998677185?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112348566998677185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112348566998677185&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348566998677185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348566998677185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/ways-to-know-if-you-have-pms.html' title='Ways to know if you have PMS'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112348558034850172</id><published>2005-08-08T07:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-08T07:19:40.356Z</updated><title type='text'>Ever Notice How All Of Women's Problems Start With MEN?</title><content type='html'>A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of male face a woman finds attractive can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle. For instance, if she is ovulating she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating, or menopausal, she is more prone to be attracted to a man with scissors lodged in his temple and a bat jammed up his ass while he is on fire.  Further studies are expected, ready to volunteer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Finally" &lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay, it "finally" all makes sense now....I never looked at it this way before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MENtal illness&lt;br /&gt;MENstrual cramps&lt;br /&gt;MENtal breakdown&lt;br /&gt;MENopause&lt;br /&gt;GUYnocologist&lt;br /&gt;AND&lt;br /&gt;When we have REAL trouble it's a HISterectomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever notice how all of women's problems start with MEN?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112348558034850172?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112348558034850172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112348558034850172&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348558034850172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112348558034850172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/ever-notice-how-all-of-womens-problems.html' title='Ever Notice How All Of Women&apos;s Problems Start With MEN?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112324867652525366</id><published>2005-08-05T13:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-08T06:59:34.513Z</updated><title type='text'>Stunt Pig :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/svinolet.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112324867652525366?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112324867652525366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112324867652525366&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324867652525366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324867652525366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/stunt-pig.html' title='Stunt Pig :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112324861415917891</id><published>2005-08-05T13:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-05T13:30:14.160Z</updated><title type='text'>How Do You Choose?</title><content type='html'>My father gave me lots of good advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you go to the barbershop," he once said, "look for the one who has the worst haircut. They all cut each other's hair, you see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great advice. Then I moved to a small town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Interview the dentists," he said, "and look for the one with the worst teeth. They all do each other's dental work, you see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was starting to get the hang of this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later he called to say he had gotten drunk and was taken to a psychiatric clinic where he had the choice of a dozen different shrinks to talk to. That's when he gave me his last bit of advice:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forget everything I ever told you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112324861415917891?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000104.html' title='How Do You Choose?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112324861415917891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112324861415917891&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324861415917891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324861415917891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/how-do-you-choose.html' title='How Do You Choose?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112324851240920847</id><published>2005-08-05T13:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-05T13:28:32.410Z</updated><title type='text'>Wreckless Driver</title><content type='html'>A state trooper pulls a car over on a lonely back road and approaches the driver. "Ma'am, is there a reason that you're weaving all over the road?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replied, "Oh officer, thank goodness you're here! I almost had an accident! I looked up and suddenly saw there was a tree right in front of me! I swerved to the left and wouldn't you know it, there was another tree in front of me. I swerved to the right and there was still another one, again right in front of me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not smelling any telltale signs on her breath, the officer put another aspect of his training to work. He reached past her blonde head to her rear-view mirror and pulled off the item hanging from it. "Ma'am," he says patiently, "that was your air freshener."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112324851240920847?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000203.html' title='Wreckless Driver'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112324851240920847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112324851240920847&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324851240920847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324851240920847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/wreckless-driver.html' title='Wreckless Driver'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112324823095287820</id><published>2005-08-05T13:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-05T13:23:51.003Z</updated><title type='text'>The Great Debate</title><content type='html'>About a century or two ago, the Pope decided that all the Jews had to leave the Vatican. Naturally there was a big uproar from the Jewish community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Pope made a deal. He would have a religious debate with a member of the Jewish community. If the Jew won, they could stay. If the Pope won, the Jews would leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jews realized that they had no choice. So they picked a middle aged man named Moishe to represent them. Moishe asked for one addition to the debate. To make it more interesting, neither side would be allowed to talk. The pope agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day of the great debate came. Moishe and the Pope sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Moishe looked back at him and raised one finger. The Pope waved his fingers in a circle around his head. Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat. The Pope pulled out a wafer and a glass of wine. Moishe pulled out an apple. The Pope stood up and said, "I give up. This man is too good. The Jews can stay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour later, the cardinals were all around the Pope asking him what 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 was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my finger around me to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground and showing that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and the wafer to show that God absolves us from our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything. What could I do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the Jewish community had crowded around Moishe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What happened?" they asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said Moishe, "First he said to me that the Jews had three days to get out of here. I told him that not one of us was leaving. Then he told me that this whole city would be cleared of Jews. I let him know that we were staying right here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And then?" asked a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know," said Moishe. "He took out his lunch and I took out mine."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112324823095287820?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000459.html' title='The Great Debate'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112324823095287820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112324823095287820&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324823095287820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112324823095287820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/great-debate.html' title='The Great Debate'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112316141587260726</id><published>2005-08-04T13:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-04T13:16:55.880Z</updated><title type='text'>Dangerous Pan :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/DangerousPan.jpg" width=400 /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112316141587260726?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112316141587260726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112316141587260726&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316141587260726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316141587260726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/dangerous-pan.html' title='Dangerous Pan :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112316073911920354</id><published>2005-08-04T13:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-04T13:05:39.120Z</updated><title type='text'>Dying of Thirst</title><content type='html'>A man on a camel rode through miles of the sun-drenched desert searching for&lt;br /&gt;some sign of life. His supplies were running low when his camel died. Now on&lt;br /&gt;foot, he desperately sought refuge from the heat, and, most importantly, a&lt;br /&gt;source for water. Suddenly, he came across a vendor in the middle of the&lt;br /&gt;desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank God I found you!" the man cried. "Please help me. I'm in dire need of&lt;br /&gt;some water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the vendor, "I don't have any water. But would you like to buy&lt;br /&gt;one of these fine ties."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What am I going to do with a tie?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's what I'm selling sir. If you don't like it, I can't help you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man left the vendor and walked on for many more miles, praying each&lt;br /&gt;minute that he would find refuge from the scorching sun. His eyes squinted a&lt;br /&gt;bunch of times when he came across a restaurant in the distance. Unable to&lt;br /&gt;comprehend a restaurant located in the middle of the desert, he assumed the&lt;br /&gt;place was a mirage, but decided to check it out anyway. As he approached the&lt;br /&gt;door, his mouth opened in amazement, seeing that the place actually existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doorman stopped him before he entered. "Excuse me sir,"&lt;br /&gt;the doorman said, "but you can't come in here without a tie!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112316073911920354?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112316073911920354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112316073911920354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316073911920354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316073911920354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/dying-of-thirst.html' title='Dying of Thirst'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112316062517554029</id><published>2005-08-04T13:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-04T13:03:45.183Z</updated><title type='text'>Intelligence Test</title><content type='html'>1) Some months have 30 days, some months have 31 days. How many months have&lt;br /&gt;28 days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) If a doctor gives you 3 pills and tells you to take one pill every half&lt;br /&gt;hour, how long would it be before all the pills had been taken?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I went to bed at eight o'clock in the evening and wound up my clock and&lt;br /&gt;set the alarm to sound at nine o'clock in the morning. How many hours sleep&lt;br /&gt;would I get before being awoken by the alarm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Divide 30 by half and add ten. What do you get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) A farmer had 17 sheep. All but 9 died. How many live sheep were left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) If you had only one match and entered a COLD and DARK room, where there&lt;br /&gt;was an oil heater, an oil lamp and a candle, which would you light first?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) A man builds a house with four sides of rectangular construction, each&lt;br /&gt;side having a southern exposure. A big bear comes along. What color is the&lt;br /&gt;bear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Take 2 apples from 3 apples. What do you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) How many animals of each species did Moses take with him in the Ark?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) If you drove a bus with 43 people on board from Chicago and stopped at&lt;br /&gt;Pittsburgh to pick up 7 more people and drop off 5 passengers and at&lt;br /&gt;Cleveland to drop off 8 passengers and pick up 4 more and eventually arrive&lt;br /&gt;at Philadelphia 20 hours later, what's the name of the driver?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWERS BELOW. GOOD LUCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) All of them. Every month has at least 28 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) 1 hour. If you take a pill at 1 o'clock, then another at&lt;br /&gt;1.30 and the last at 2 o'clock, they will be taken in 1 hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) 1 hour. It is a wind up alarm clock which cannot discriminate between&lt;br /&gt;a.m. and p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) 70. Dividing by half is the same as multiplying by 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) 9 live sheep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) The match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) White. If all walls face south, the house must be on the North Pole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Two apples. I HAVE 3 APPLES, YOU TAKE 2, WHAT DO YOU HAVE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) None. It was Noah, not Moses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) YOU are the driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grading Scale (out of 10)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Genius&lt;br /&gt;9 Mensa Member&lt;br /&gt;8 Engineer&lt;br /&gt;7 University Student&lt;br /&gt;6 High school pupil&lt;br /&gt;5 Primary school pupil&lt;br /&gt;4 School Teacher&lt;br /&gt;3 University professor&lt;br /&gt;2 FDA Investigator&lt;br /&gt;1 Member of Congress&lt;br /&gt;0 C'mon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112316062517554029?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112316062517554029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112316062517554029&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316062517554029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112316062517554029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/intelligence-test.html' title='Intelligence Test'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112315982232598792</id><published>2005-08-04T12:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-04T12:50:22.406Z</updated><title type='text'>Women's Key Words And What They Really Mean</title><content type='html'>FINE: This is the word we use at the end of any argument that we feel we are&lt;br /&gt;right about but need to shut you up.&lt;br /&gt;NEVER use fine to describe how a woman looks. This will cause you to have&lt;br /&gt;one of those arguments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIVE MINUTES: This is a half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes&lt;br /&gt;that your football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so I&lt;br /&gt;feel that it's an even trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTHING: This means something and you should be on your toes. "Nothing" is&lt;br /&gt;usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you&lt;br /&gt;inside out, upside down, and backwards. "Nothing" usually signifies an&lt;br /&gt;argument that will last "Five Minutes" and end with the word "Fine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO AHEAD (with raised eyebrows): This is a dare. One that will result in a&lt;br /&gt;woman getting upset over "Nothing" and will end with the word "Fine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO AHEAD (with normal eyebrows): This means "I give up" or "do what you want&lt;br /&gt;because I don't care." You will get a raised eyebrow "Go Ahead" in just a&lt;br /&gt;few minutes, followed by "Nothing" and "Fine" and she will talk to you in&lt;br /&gt;about "Five Minutes" when she cools off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOUD SIGH: This is not actually a word, but is still often a verbal&lt;br /&gt;statement very misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh"&lt;br /&gt;means she thinks you are an idiot at that moment and wonders why she is&lt;br /&gt;wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOFT SIGH: Again, not a word, but a verbal statement. "Soft Sighs" are one&lt;br /&gt;of the few things that some men actually understand. She is content. Your&lt;br /&gt;best bet is to not move or breathe and she will stay content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT'S OKAY: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can say to&lt;br /&gt;a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before&lt;br /&gt;paying you retributions for whatever it is that you have done. "That's Okay"&lt;br /&gt;is often used with the word "Fine" and used in conjunction with a raised&lt;br /&gt;eyebrow "Go Ahead." At some point in the near future when she has plotted&lt;br /&gt;and planned, you are going to be in some mighty big trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE DO: This is not a statement, it is an offer. A woman is giving you&lt;br /&gt;the chance to come up with whatever excuse or reason you have for doing&lt;br /&gt;whatever it is that you have done.&lt;br /&gt;You have a fair chance to tell the truth, so be careful and you shouldn't&lt;br /&gt;get a "That's Okay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANKS: A woman is thanking you. Do not faint; just say you're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANKS A LOT: This is much different from 'THANKS." A woman will say,&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks A Lot" when she is really ticked off at you. It signifies that you&lt;br /&gt;have hurt her in some callous way, and will be followed by the "Loud Sigh."&lt;br /&gt;Be care not to ask what is wrong after the "Loud Sigh," as she will only&lt;br /&gt;tell you "Oh Nothing."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112315982232598792?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112315982232598792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112315982232598792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112315982232598792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112315982232598792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/womens-key-words-and-what-they-really.html' title='Women&apos;s Key Words And What They Really Mean'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112290260013563476</id><published>2005-08-01T13:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-01T13:25:33.243Z</updated><title type='text'>Lambada :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/448751.jpg' /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112290260013563476?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112290260013563476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112290260013563476&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290260013563476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290260013563476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/lambada.html' title='Lambada :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112290254846417611</id><published>2005-08-01T13:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-01T13:22:28.473Z</updated><title type='text'>New Guy in Marketing</title><content type='html'>A new guy was hired by the marketing department, and as low man on the totem pole he had to go out and do consumer surveys. So he was pretty glad to find someone willing to answer his questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Which shaving cream do you use?" he asked the willing man on the street, ready to write down the answer on his clipboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bubba's," the gent answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The marketing maven hadn't heard of that brand, but he dutifully wrote it down and went on to the next question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Which aftershave do you use?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the answer was "Bubba's." And he got the same answer to all the rest of his questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which deodorant do you use? &lt;br /&gt;Which toothpaste do you use? &lt;br /&gt;Which shampoo do you use? &lt;br /&gt;Which soap do you use?&lt;br /&gt;-- they were all "Bubba's." Impressed with a company with such a full range of products, the interviewer finally asked, "OK, tell me, is this 'Bubba' company an international or foreign company?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the guy says. "He's my roommate."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112290254846417611?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000413.html' title='New Guy in Marketing'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112290254846417611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112290254846417611&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290254846417611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290254846417611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-guy-in-marketing.html' title='New Guy in Marketing'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112290209538423397</id><published>2005-08-01T13:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-01T13:14:55.393Z</updated><title type='text'>Signs Found In The Kitchen</title><content type='html'>So this isn't Home Sweet Home ... Adjust!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ring bell for maid service. If no answer, do it yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clean house every other day. Today is the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you write in the dust, please don't date it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would cook dinner but I can't find the can opener!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A clean kitchen is the sign of a wasted life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house was clean last week, too bad you missed it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came, I saw, I decided to order take out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't like my standards of cooking ...lower your standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although you'll find our house a mess, Come in, sit down, converse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't always look like this: Some days it's even worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A messy kitchen is a happy kitchen, and this kitchen is delirious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thou shalt not weigh more than thy refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countless number of people have eaten in this kitchen and gone on to lead normal lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next house will have no kitchen ... just vending machines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd live life in the fast lane, but I am married to a speed bump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother does not live here any more, clean up your own mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Martha Stewart doesn't live here!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112290209538423397?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112290209538423397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112290209538423397&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290209538423397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290209538423397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/signs-found-in-kitchen.html' title='Signs Found In The Kitchen'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112290201664313253</id><published>2005-08-01T13:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-08-01T13:13:36.703Z</updated><title type='text'>You Know You're A Bad Cook When ...</title><content type='html'>You use the smoke alarm as a cooking timer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You consider it a culinary success if the pop-tart stays in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your dog goes to the neighbors' to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your family buys Aka Seltzer and Kaopectate in bulk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you barbecue; two of your kids hold water guns and the third stands ready by the phone with 911 on speed-dial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your family automatically heads for the dinner table every time they hear a fire truck siren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The EPA insists that all your garbage cans be marked with biohazard symbols.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your microwave display reads "TILT!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your two best recipes are meatloaf and apple pie, but your dinner guests can't tell which is which.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your pie filling bubbles over and eats the enamel off the bottom of the oven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've used three boxes of scouring pads and a bottle of Drano and a crowbar, and that macaroni and cheese still won't let go of the pan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pest control companies keep pestering you for your recipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You make tuna noodle surprise and the surprise is that it glows in the dark and melts the silverware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your family prays AFTER they eat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112290201664313253?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112290201664313253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112290201664313253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290201664313253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112290201664313253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/08/you-know-youre-bad-cook-when.html' title='You Know You&apos;re A Bad Cook When ...'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112265730289643764</id><published>2005-07-29T17:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-29T17:15:02.903Z</updated><title type='text'>What They are Doing Here? :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/safety4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112265730289643764?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112265730289643764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112265730289643764&amp;isPopup=true' title='47 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265730289643764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265730289643764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/what-they-are-doing-here.html' title='What They are Doing Here? :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>47</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112265216378925866</id><published>2005-07-29T15:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-29T15:49:23.790Z</updated><title type='text'>Barbies for Older Girls</title><content type='html'>Finally, a line of Barbie® dolls I can relate to. At long last, here are some New! Barbie dolls to coincide with her aging gracefully. These are a bit more realistic....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bifocals Barbie. Comes with her own set of blended-lens fashion frames in six wild colors (half-frames too!), neck chain, and large-print editions of Vogue and Martha Stewart Living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Hot Flash Barbie. Press Barbie's bellybutton and watch her face turn beet red while tiny drops of perspiration appear on her forehead. Comes with handheld fan and tiny tissues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Facial Hair Barbie. As Barbie's hormone levels shift, see her whiskers grow. Available with teensy tweezers and magnifying mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Flabby Arms Barbie. Hide Barbie's droopy triceps with these new, roomier-sleeved gowns. Good news on the tummy front, two-MuMus with tummy-support panels are included.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Bunion Barbie. Years of disco dancing in stiletto heels have definitely taken their toll on Barbie's dainty arched feet. Soothe her sores with the pumice stone and plasters, then slip on soft terry mules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. No-More-Wrinkles Barbie. Erase those pesky crow's-feet and lip lines with a tube of Skin Sparkle-Spackle, from Barbie's own line of exclusive age-blasting cosmetics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Soccer Mom Barbie. All that experience as a cheerleader is really paying off as Barbie dusts off her old high school megaphone to root for Babs and Ken, Jr. Comes with minivan in robin-egg blue or white and cooler filled with doughnut holes and fruit punch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Midlife Crisis Barbie. It's time to ditch Ken. Barbie needs a change, and Alonzo (her personal trainer) is just what the doctor ordered, along with Prozac. They're hopping in her new red Miata and heading for the Napa Valley to open a B&amp;B. Includes a real tape of "Breaking Up Is Hard to Do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Divorced Barbie. Sells for $999.99, but it comes with all of Ken's stuff, including his house, car and boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Recovery Barbie. Too many parties have finally caught up with the ultimate party girl. Now she does Twelve Steps instead of dance steps. Clean and sober, she's going to meetings religiously. Comes with a little copy of The Big Book and a six-pack of Diet Coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Post-Menopausal Barbie. This Barbie wets her pants when she sneezes, forgets where she puts things, and cries a lot. She is sick and tired of Ken sitting on the couch watching the tube, clicking through the channels. Comes with Depends and Kleenex. As a bonus this year, the book "Getting In Touch with Your Inner Self" is included.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112265216378925866?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000355.html' title='Barbies for Older Girls'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112265216378925866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112265216378925866&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265216378925866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265216378925866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/barbies-for-older-girls.html' title='Barbies for Older Girls'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275089.post-112265204786938864</id><published>2005-07-29T15:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-29T15:47:27.870Z</updated><title type='text'>A PC Little Red Riding Hood</title><content type='html'>There once was a young person named Red Riding Hood who lived with her mother on the edge of a large wood. One day her mother asked her to take a basket of fresh fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house — not because this was womyn's work, mind you, but because the deed was generous and helped engender a feeling of community. Furthermore, her grandmother was not sick, but rather was in full physical and mental health and was fully capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Red Riding Hood set off with her basket of food through the woods. Many people she knew believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place and never set foot in it. Red Riding Hood, however, was confident in her own budding sexuality that such obvious Freudian imagery did not hinder her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood was accosted by a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket. She replied, "Some healthful snacks for my grandmother, who is certainly capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Wolf said, "You now, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Riding Hood walked on along the main path. But, because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house. He burst into the house and ate Grandma, an entirely valid course of action for a carnivore such as himself. Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist notions of what was masculine or feminine, he put on grandma's nightclothes and crawled into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, "Grandma, I have brought you some fat-free, sodium-free snacks to salute you in your role of a wise and nurturing matriarch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the bed, the Wolf said softly, "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Riding Hood said, "Oh, I forgot you are as optically challenged as a bat. Grandma, what big eyes you have!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They have seen much, and forgiven much, my dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Grandma, what a big nose you have — only relatively, of course, and certainly attractive in its own way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It has smelled much, and forgiven much, my dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Grandma, what big teeth you have!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Wolf said, "I am happy with who I am and what I am," and leaped out of bed. He grabbed Red Riding Hood in his claws, intent on devouring her. Red Riding Hood screamed, not out of alarm at the Wolf's apparent tendency toward cross-dressing, but because of his willful invasion of her personal space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her screams were heard by a passing woodchopper-person (or log-fuel technician, as he preferred to be called). When he burst into the cottage, he saw the melee and tried to intervene. But as he raised his ax, Red Riding Hood and the Wolf both stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what do you think you're doing?" asked Red Riding Hood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woodchopper-person blinked and tried to answer, but no words came to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bursting in here like a Neanderthal, trusting your weapon to do your thinking for you!" she said. "Sexist! Speciesist! How dare you assume that womyn and wolves can't solve their own problems without a man's help!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she heard Red Riding Hood's speech, Grandma jumped out of the Wolf's mouth, took the woodchopper-person's axe, and cut his head off. After this ordeal, Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and the Wolf felt a certain commonality of purpose. They decided to set up an alternative household based on mutual respect and cooperation, and they lived together in the woods happily ever after.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112265204786938864?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000141.html' title='A PC Little Red Riding Hood'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112265204786938864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112265204786938864&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265204786938864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265204786938864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/pc-little-red-riding-hood.html' title='A PC Little Red Riding Hood'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112265188839824894</id><published>2005-07-29T15:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-29T15:44:48.440Z</updated><title type='text'>My New Puppy</title><content type='html'>I pulled into the crowded parking lot at the Super Wal-Mart and rolled down the car windows to make sure my Labrador Retriever puppy had fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there. I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying emphatically, "Now you stay. Do you hear me? Stay!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could see her intently watching me, tail wagging furiously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a few more steps back and repeated, "Stay! Stay!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver of a nearby car, a pretty young blonde, gave me a strange look and said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why don't you just put it in park?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112265188839824894?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000455.html' title='My New Puppy'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112265188839824894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112265188839824894&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265188839824894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112265188839824894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-new-puppy.html' title='My New Puppy'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112256197773041768</id><published>2005-07-28T14:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:48:45.826Z</updated><title type='text'>Bomb's Away! :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/bomb.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112256197773041768?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112256197773041768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112256197773041768&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256197773041768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256197773041768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/bombs-away.html' title='Bomb&apos;s Away! :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112256156547514694</id><published>2005-07-28T14:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:39:25.476Z</updated><title type='text'>10 Types of People</title><content type='html'>People of normal intelligence will laugh at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People of extra-normal intelligence will laugh twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True geeks will only laugh the second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who didn't pay attention in school won't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 10 types of people in the world:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those that understand binary, and those that don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112256156547514694?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000133.html' title='10 Types of People'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112256156547514694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112256156547514694&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256156547514694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256156547514694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/10-types-of-people.html' title='10 Types of People'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112256142067809740</id><published>2005-07-28T14:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:37:00.686Z</updated><title type='text'>Who's On First? (2005 edition)</title><content type='html'>George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Great. Lay it on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu is the new leader of China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: That's what I want to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: That's what I'm telling you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: I mean the fellow's name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: The guy in China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: The new leader of China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: The main man in China!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu is leading China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Now whaddya' asking me for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: I'm telling you, Hu is leading China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: That's the man's name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: That's who's name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Will you, or will you not, tell me the name of the new leader of China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he's dead in the Middle East.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: That's correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Then who is in China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Yassir is in China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: No, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Then who is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Yassir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: No, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Look Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get me the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Kofi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: No, thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: You want Kofi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: You don't want Kofi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Kofi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Milk! Will you please make the call?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: And call who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Who is the guy at the U.N?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Hu is the guy in China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: Will you stay out of China?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Yes, sir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Condi: Kofi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George: All right! With cream and two sugars.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112256142067809740?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000453.html' title='Who&apos;s On First? (2005 edition)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112256142067809740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112256142067809740&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256142067809740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256142067809740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/whos-on-first-2005-edition.html' title='Who&apos;s On First? (2005 edition)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112256113686403377</id><published>2005-07-28T14:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:32:16.926Z</updated><title type='text'>Temperature</title><content type='html'>"Cold" is a relative term.  Use the handy list below to overcome the confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Degrees (Fahrenheit)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65 Hawaiians declare a two-blanket night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60 Californians put on sweaters (if they can find one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50 Miami residents turn on the heat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45 Vermont residents go to outdoor concerts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40 You can see your breath Californians shiver uncontrollably Minnesotans go swimming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35 Italian cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32 Water freezes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 You plan your vacation to Australia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25 Ohio water freezes&lt;br /&gt;Californians weep pitiably&lt;br /&gt;Minnesotans eat ice cream&lt;br /&gt;Canadians go swimming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 Politicians begin to talk about the homeless &lt;br /&gt;New York City water freezes &lt;br /&gt;Miami residents plan vacation further South&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 French cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;Cat insists on sleeping in your bed with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 You need jumper cables to get the car going&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 American cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;0 Alaskans put on T-shirts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-10 German cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;Eyes freeze shut when you blink &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-15 You can cut your breath and use it to build an igloo Arkansans stick tongue on metal objects Miami residents cease to exist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-20 Cat insists on sleeping in pajamas with you Politicians actually do something about the homeless Minnesotans shovel snow off roof Japanese cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-25 Too cold to think&lt;br /&gt;You need jumper cables to get the driver going&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-30 You plan a two week hot bath&lt;br /&gt;Swedish cars don't start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-40 Californians disappear&lt;br /&gt;Minnesotans button top button&lt;br /&gt;Canadians put on sweaters&lt;br /&gt;Your car helps you plan your trip South&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-50 Congressional hot air freezes&lt;br /&gt;Alaskans close the bathroom window&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-80 Hell freezes over&lt;br /&gt;Polar bears move South&lt;br /&gt;Viking Fans order hot cocoa at the game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-90 Lawyers put their hands in their own pockets&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112256113686403377?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112256113686403377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112256113686403377&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256113686403377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112256113686403377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/temperature.html' title='Temperature'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112246423623880377</id><published>2005-07-27T11:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-28T12:52:31.030Z</updated><title type='text'>Unlucky Day :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050727pofig5643.jpg' /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112246423623880377?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112246423623880377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112246423623880377&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246423623880377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246423623880377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/unlucky-day.html' title='Unlucky Day :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112246401991463638</id><published>2005-07-27T11:33:00.001Z</published><updated>2005-07-27T11:33:39.913Z</updated><title type='text'>Cruise Questions From The Intellectually Challenged</title><content type='html'>Cruise ships get some unusual questions from their customers. Here's an amusing sample collected by Celebrity Cruises and published by the trade magazine Travel Weekly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Does the elevator go to the front of the ship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Why does the ship rock only when we are at sea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Does the ship generate its own electricity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Will I get wet if I go snorkeling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Does the crew sleep on board?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Is there water all around the island?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How do we know which photos are ours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do you do with the ice carvings after they melt?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112246401991463638?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000451.html' title='Cruise Questions From The Intellectually Challenged'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112246401991463638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112246401991463638&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246401991463638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246401991463638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/cruise-questions-from-intellectually.html' title='Cruise Questions From The Intellectually Challenged'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112246398585632475</id><published>2005-07-27T11:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-27T11:33:05.863Z</updated><title type='text'>Fanning the Flames</title><content type='html'>This is a true story: it happened to me in 1997, not too long after I moved to Colorado. That first year, I lived in an apartment while I figured out where I really wanted to live. It was expensive, but pretty decent. There was a nice swimming pool, which I could see from my window. It was a nice day, and I was in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing there talking to a couple of new residents. The kind that looked good in bikinis. As we were chatting, I hear a weird noise -- "FOOMP!" -- from the condos next door. I looked over to see a big flame on the second storey, shooting out of the wall! Then it went away. Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I popped into my place and called 911. That brought three fire trucks and a police car, but by the time they got there there was no flame to be seen. No sign that there was ever a flame. But I flagged them down and marched them over to the side of the building. "Uh huh," they said to my story. I think they were leaning in to smell my breath to see if I had been drinking. They wanted to know where, exactly, I saw flames shooting out of the perfectly normal-looking building. I pointed, and right at that exact moment we all heard a "FOOMP!" and saw a jet of flames come out of the wall!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say they stopped sniffing my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cause was actually kind of interesting. A heating contractor had been there earlier in the day, and seems to have managed to connect a gas line to the dryer vent. After a while, a nice load of gas would build up, which then would ignite. (How, I don't know; I don't think dryers tend to have pilot lights.) Once ignited it shot out a real nice flame several feet as the gas in the pipe burned off, and then it would go out and start building up again. I was able to hear the fire department commander ask the dispatcher to call the contractor and ask if he might please get his butt down here right now and fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, no one in the building had a clue that it was happening, and no one else on my side of the yard had bothered to call it in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112246398585632475?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000452.html' title='Fanning the Flames'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112246398585632475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112246398585632475&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246398585632475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246398585632475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/fanning-flames.html' title='Fanning the Flames'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112246388850914388</id><published>2005-07-27T11:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-27T11:31:28.563Z</updated><title type='text'>Top Signs that You Are an Internet Nut</title><content type='html'>When filling out your driver's license application you give your IP address. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You no longer ask prospective dates what their sign is, instead your line is "Hi, what's your URL?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of calling you to dinner, your spouse sends e-mail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're amazed to find out spam is a food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You "ping" people to see if they're awake, "finger" them to find out how they are, and "AYT" them to make sure they're listening to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You search the Net endlessly hoping to win every silly free T-shirt contest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You introduce your wife as "my lady@home.wife" and refer to your children as "client applications". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At social functions you introduce your husband as "my domain server". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After winning the office super bowl pool you blurt out, "I feel so "colon-right parentheses!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two Words: "Pizza's Here!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend stops to see you since your phone has been busy-----for a year!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You forgot how to work the TV remote control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see something funny and scream, "LOL, LOL."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tell everyone, that after surgery, your mom went to ICQ ......instead of ICU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sign off and your screen says you were on for 3 days and 45 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You placed the refrigerator beside your computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tech support calls YOU for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You beg your friends to get an account so you can "hang out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You purchase a vanity car license plate with your screen name on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say "he he he he" or "heh heh heh" instead of laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say "SCROLL UP" when someone asks what it was you said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You find out divorce papers had been served on you 6 months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You talk on the phone with the same person you are sending an instant message to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look at an annoying person off line and wish that you had your ignore button handy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You start to experience "withdrawal" after not being online for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say......."Where did the time go??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sit on ICQ for 6 hours for that certain special person to sign on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get up in the morning and go online before getting your coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....You end your sentences with.....three or more periods.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your shoes are suddenly 2 sizes too small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think faster than the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You enter a room and get greeted by 25 people with {{{hugs}}} and ** kisses**.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being called a newbie is a major insult to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your teacher or boss recommends a drug test for the blood shot eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get up at 2:00 AM to go to the bathroom and turn the computer on instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You need to be pried from your computer by the Jaws-of-life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112246388850914388?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112246388850914388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112246388850914388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246388850914388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112246388850914388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/top-signs-that-you-are-internet-nut.html' title='Top Signs that You Are an Internet Nut'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112238009067670612</id><published>2005-07-26T12:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-26T12:18:19.540Z</updated><title type='text'>Take a Rest :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/takearest.jpg' /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112238009067670612?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112238009067670612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112238009067670612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112238009067670612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112238009067670612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/take-rest.html' title='Take a Rest :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112237894990908789</id><published>2005-07-26T11:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-26T11:55:49.910Z</updated><title type='text'>Bathtub Test</title><content type='html'>It doesn't hurt to take a hard look at yourself from time to time. This little test should get you started. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director which is the criteria that defines a patient to be institutionalized. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub. We offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient, and ask the patient to empty the bathtub." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, here's your test: (Those with an abnormal tendency will scroll to the bottom to get the answer before taking the test.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Would you use the spoon? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Would you use the teacup? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Would you use the bucket? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would choose the bucket as it is larger than the spoon." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," answered the Director. "A normal person would pull the plug." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how did you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112237894990908789?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112237894990908789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112237894990908789&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237894990908789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237894990908789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/bathtub-test.html' title='Bathtub Test'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112237889144102827</id><published>2005-07-26T11:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-26T11:54:51.440Z</updated><title type='text'>Arthritis</title><content type='html'>A little old man shuffled slowly into an ice cream parlor and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool. After catching his breath he ordered a banana split. The waitress asked kindly, "Crushed nuts?" "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No," he replied, "arthritis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112237889144102827?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112237889144102827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112237889144102827&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237889144102827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237889144102827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/arthritis.html' title='Arthritis'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112237883017616846</id><published>2005-07-26T11:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-26T11:53:50.216Z</updated><title type='text'>Crazy</title><content type='html'>A motorist had a flat tire in front of an insane asylum. He took the wheel off, but when he stood up he tipped over the hubcap containing the bolts, spilling them all down a sewer drain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A patient, looking through the fence, suggested that the man take one bolt from the remaining three wheels to hold the fourth wheel in place until he could get to a service station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The motorist thanked his profusely and said, "I don't know why you are in that place." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patient said, "I'm here for being crazy, not for being stupid."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112237883017616846?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.blogger.com/start' title='Crazy'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112237883017616846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112237883017616846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237883017616846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112237883017616846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/crazy.html' title='Crazy'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112211227968501335</id><published>2005-07-23T09:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-23T09:54:02.593Z</updated><title type='text'>Boss...I did it again... :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/track.jpg" width=400 /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112211227968501335?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112211227968501335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112211227968501335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211227968501335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211227968501335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/bossi-did-it-again.html' title='Boss...I did it again... :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112211129372479294</id><published>2005-07-23T09:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-23T09:34:53.726Z</updated><title type='text'>Opening at the CIA</title><content type='html'>The CIA had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done, there were 3 finalists -- 2 men and a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun. "We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances. Inside this room, you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill her." The man said, "You can't be serious. I could never shoot my wife."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agent nodded and said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. Then the man came out with tears in his eyes. "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agent nodded and said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given similar instructions -- to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots rang out, one after another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. The agent was just about to go in and see what was happening when the door opened and the woman stepped out, sweating profusely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This gun is loaded with blanks," she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112211129372479294?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112211129372479294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112211129372479294&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211129372479294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211129372479294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/opening-at-cia.html' title='Opening at the CIA'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112211114610857376</id><published>2005-07-23T09:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-23T09:32:26.110Z</updated><title type='text'>Federal Statistics</title><content type='html'>I was involved in doing usability testing of a "One Stop Shopping" for the main federal statistics Web site that just went public a couple of weeks ago. We're getting user feedback, and some of it is hilarious. But this comment from one gal in Medicine Hat, Canada, took the prize for me. She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I found this page interesting, it wasn't really what I was expecting, it is just really a regurgitation of statistics. But I suppose I can't expect a ton of information from a government page. Also, the statistics that I looked at only applied to Americans, I am Canadian. This was probably the most disappointing thing on this page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me get this straight: A Web site that advertises itself as a source of United States Federal statistics is disappointing because (a) it only delivers statistics -- not "information" -- and (b) it's restricted to the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wellll, excuuuuse us for living, Ms. Medicine Hat!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112211114610857376?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112211114610857376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112211114610857376&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211114610857376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211114610857376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/federal-statistics.html' title='Federal Statistics'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112211106458321744</id><published>2005-07-23T09:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-23T09:31:04.866Z</updated><title type='text'>Microsoft Contraceptives</title><content type='html'>MICROSOFT ANNOUNCES CONTRACEPTIVE98&lt;br /&gt;For tomorrow's edition -- DO NOT RELEASE PREMATURELY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Microsoft Corporation has taken another step toward dominating every aspect of American life with the introduction of Contraceptive98, a suite of applications designed for users who engage in sex. "As we leave the geek market behind, we are finding more and more of our user base does, in fact, engage in actual personal contact with other human beings, and that this is increasing the incidence of sex in people who would otherwise be gaming online or at home alone. We want to make sure that if people feel the need to leave the computer for even a moment, Microsoft goes with them," said Sosha Lee M. Peard, spokeswoman for the software giant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Microsoft considers itself to be a pioneer in peer-to-peer connectivity and plug and play. It believes these technologies will give it substantial leverage in penetrating the copulation enhancement market. The product addresses two important user concerns: the need for virus protection and the need for a firewall to ensure the non-propagation of human beings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Contraceptive98 suite consists of three products: Condom98, DeFetus 1.0 (from Sementec), and AIDScan 2.1 (from Norton Utilities). A free copy of Intercourse Explorer 4.0 is bundled in the package. The suite also comes in two expanded versions. Contraceptive98 Professional is the Client/Server edition, for professionals in the sexual services sector. Contraceptive98 Small Business Edition is a package for start-ups, aimed at the lonely housewife and "playuh" niches. While Contraceptive98 does not address non-traditional copulatory channels, future plug-ins are planned for next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OPERATION: Only one node in a peer-to-peer connection needs to install the package. At installation, the Condom98 software checks for minimum hardware. If the user meets the requirements, the product installs and is sufficiently scalable to meet most requirements. After installation, operation commences. One caution is that the user must have sufficient RAM to complete the session. When the session is complete, a disconnect is initiated, and the user gets the message, "It is now safe to turn off your partner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DRAWBACKS: Usability testers report that frequent failures were a major concern during beta testing. General Protection Fault was the most serious error encountered. This product is particularly sensitive to power surges. Early versions had numerous bugs, but most of these have been eliminated. The product needs to be installed each time its used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONCLUSION: Contraceptive98 is a robust product. Despite its drawbacks, it is a reasonably good value for its $49.95 price tag, and is far superior to its shareware version. For future releases, Microsoft plans to add missing functionality, such as Backout and Restore, Uninterruptible Power Supply, and Onboard Camera. Microsoft CEO Bill Gates is optimistic about Contraceptive98's potential. "Our contraceptive products will help users do to each other what We've been doing to our customers for years," he said in a statement accompanying the release.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112211106458321744?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112211106458321744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112211106458321744&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211106458321744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112211106458321744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/microsoft-contraceptives.html' title='Microsoft Contraceptives'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112203176256888874</id><published>2005-07-22T11:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-22T11:29:22.570Z</updated><title type='text'>After Fighting with Porcupine :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/pb_gggg.jpg" width=400 /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112203176256888874?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112203176256888874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112203176256888874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203176256888874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203176256888874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/after-fighting-with-porcupine.html' title='After Fighting with Porcupine :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112203127466842041</id><published>2005-07-22T11:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-22T11:21:14.670Z</updated><title type='text'>Kisses</title><content type='html'>The day care teacher holds up a picture and asks, "What's this?”  A horsy," one  child answers, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And this?" the teacher asks. "A piggy," replies another youngster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And now this one?" asks the teacher, holding up a picture of a male deer with a beautiful rack of antlers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no answer, only total silence.  "Come now, children," she coaxes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll give you a little hint."   What does your Mommy call your Daddy when he hugs and kisses her a lot???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know! I know! "  exclaims one little girl. "It's a Horny Bastard!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112203127466842041?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112203127466842041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112203127466842041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203127466842041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203127466842041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/kisses.html' title='Kisses'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112203121472517134</id><published>2005-07-22T11:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-22T11:20:14.726Z</updated><title type='text'>The Advertisement</title><content type='html'>The following ad in the Atlanta Journal is reported to have received numerous calls:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Single Black Female seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I am a very good looking girl who loves to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping, fishing trips, and cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work; wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me and I'm yours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call 555-5555 and ask for Daisy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day the ad ran, over 15,000 men found themselves talking to the local Humane Society about an eight week old black Labrador Retriever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112203121472517134?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112203121472517134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112203121472517134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203121472517134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203121472517134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/advertisement.html' title='The Advertisement'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112203117472738521</id><published>2005-07-22T11:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-22T11:19:34.736Z</updated><title type='text'>The Frog</title><content type='html'>An older lady was somewhat lonely and decided she needed a pet to  keep her company. So off to the pet shop she went. She searched and searched. Nothing seemed to catch her interest, except this ugly  frog. As she walked by the jar he was in, she looked and he winked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He whispered , "IM LONELY TOO, BUY ME AND YOU WONT BE SORRY."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady figured--WHAT THE HECK, she hadn't found anything else. She bought the frog and put him in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving down the road the frog whispered to her "KISS ME AND YOU WONT BE SORRY."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the old lady figured WHAT THE HECK, and kissed the frog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IMMEDIATELY the frog turned into an absolutely gorgeous sexy young handsome prince. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PRINCE THEN KISSED THE OLD LADY BACK..........AND GUESS WHAT THE OLD LADY TURNED INTO?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COME ON GUESS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOOOOOOHHHHHHH COME ON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHE TURNED INTO THE FIRST MOTEL SHE COULD FIND.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's old.......NOT DEAD!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112203117472738521?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112203117472738521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112203117472738521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203117472738521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112203117472738521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/frog.html' title='The Frog'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112195867159517383</id><published>2005-07-21T15:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-21T15:11:11.603Z</updated><title type='text'>Poor Kid in the Middle :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/att07809.jpg" width=400 /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112195867159517383?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112195867159517383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112195867159517383&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195867159517383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195867159517383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/poor-kid-in-middle.html' title='Poor Kid in the Middle :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112195829332929026</id><published>2005-07-21T15:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-21T15:04:53.330Z</updated><title type='text'>What Causes Arthritis?</title><content type='html'>A drunk man sat down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick. He smelled awful, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes, the man turned to the priest and asked, "Say, Father, what causes arthritis?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest replied, "My Son, it's caused by loose living; being with cheap, wicked women; too much alcohol; contempt for your fellow man; sleeping around with prostitutes; and lack of bathing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk muttered in response, "Well, I'll be darned," then returned to his paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk answered, "I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112195829332929026?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000333.html' title='What Causes Arthritis?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112195829332929026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112195829332929026&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195829332929026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195829332929026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/what-causes-arthritis.html' title='What Causes Arthritis?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112195822011183891</id><published>2005-07-21T15:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-21T15:03:40.110Z</updated><title type='text'>The Bookmaker at the Inn</title><content type='html'>A certain bookmaker who was making a long trip by car when toward nightfall he happened upon an inn which had a most unusual&lt;br /&gt;name: The Even Steven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was located in the middle of a desolate stretch of country, and he didn't know how much farther the next place would be, he decided to stop there for the night. He registered, listing his occupation as a bookmaker, and decided to satisfy his curiosity about the name at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's very simple, really," the proprietor explained. "You see, my name is Steven Even. So I just decided to turn it around and call this The Even Steven. I thought if might get a few folks puzzled enough to stop and ask questions, and sometimes it does."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's a pretty smart way to use the luck of a name," said the bookie, appreciatively. "I bet it brings you a lot of business."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It hasn't brought me so much luck," he said. "The folks who stop here don't stay long. There's not much gaiety around here, as you could see. In fact, there's not another soul lives closer than thirty miles away, whichever way you go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Makes it pretty lonely for me, a widower. And worse still for my daughters. Three of the loveliest girls you ever set eyes on, should have their pick of boy friends. But, they are getting so frustrated they're about to do anything for a man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bookie made sympathetic noises, and listened to more in the same vein until hunger obliged him to change the subject to that of food. An excellent home-cooked dinner was served to him by a gorgeous blonde who introduced herself as Blanche Even, and when he was finished she still kept pressing him to ask for anything else he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, she said, "Would you like me to sit and talk to you for a while?" "Thank you," he said politely, "but I've had a long day and I feel like closing the book."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went to his room and had just started to undress when there was a knock at the door and an absolutely breath-taking brunette came in. "I'm Carmen Even," she said. "I just wanted to see if you'd got everything you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think so, thank you," he said pleasantly. "I do a lot of traveling, so I pack very systematically."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he had finally convinced her and gotten rid of her, he climbed in between the sheets and was preparing to read himself to sleep over the Racing Form when the door opened again to admit an utterly gorgeous redhead in a negligee to end all negligees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm Ginger Even," she announced. "I wanted to be sure your bed was comfortable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is," he assured her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope you're not just being tactful," she insisted. "May I try it myself?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you must," said the bookie primly. "I will get out while you do it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she had gone, he settled down with a sigh of relief and was about to put out the light at last when the door burst open once more and the proprietor himself stomped in, glowing with indignation. "What's the matter with you," he roared. "I've got to listen all night to my daughters moaning an' wailing, the most luscious gals in this county, because they all try to show you hospitality an' you won't give one of 'em a tumble. Ain't us Evens good enough for you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry," said the transient. "But I told you when I registered that I'm a professional bookmaker: I only lay Odds."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112195822011183891?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000446.html' title='The Bookmaker at the Inn'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112195822011183891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112195822011183891&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195822011183891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195822011183891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/bookmaker-at-inn.html' title='The Bookmaker at the Inn'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112195815251087319</id><published>2005-07-21T15:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-21T15:02:32.516Z</updated><title type='text'>Grading Exams: The Inside Story</title><content type='html'>An inside look at how professors grade their final exams:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Statistics:&lt;br /&gt;All grades are fitted to a normal curve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Psychology:&lt;br /&gt;Students are asked to blot ink in their exam books, close them and turn them in. The professor opens the books and assigns the first grade that comes to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of History:&lt;br /&gt;All students get the same grade they got last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Theology:&lt;br /&gt;Grade is determined by God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Philosophy:&lt;br /&gt;What is a grade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Law School:&lt;br /&gt;Students are asked to defend their position of why they should receive an A when they really deserve an F.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Mathematics:&lt;br /&gt;Grades are variable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Computer Science:&lt;br /&gt;Random number generator determines grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Music:&lt;br /&gt;Each student must figure out his grade by listening to the instructor play the corresponding note (+ and - would be sharp and flat respectively). Tone-deaf students fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dept of Physical Education:&lt;br /&gt;Everybody gets an A.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112195815251087319?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000447.html' title='Grading Exams: The Inside Story'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112195815251087319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112195815251087319&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195815251087319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112195815251087319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/grading-exams-inside-story.html' title='Grading Exams: The Inside Story'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112186179398042252</id><published>2005-07-20T12:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-20T12:16:33.980Z</updated><title type='text'>The Magazine for Married Men :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/marriedmen.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112186179398042252?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112186179398042252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112186179398042252&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186179398042252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186179398042252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/magazine-for-married-men.html' title='The Magazine for Married Men :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112186168968378613</id><published>2005-07-20T12:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-20T12:14:49.683Z</updated><title type='text'>Ten New Dresses</title><content type='html'>My mom got mad at my dad the other day so she went shopping to relieve her irritation. When she returned home she informed him that she had purchased ten new dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ten!" he hollered, getting angry all over again, "What could any woman want with ten new dresses?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom calmly replied, "Ten new pairs of shoes, of course."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was smart enough to shut up right there, so she didn't get to tell him about the ten new handbags.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112186168968378613?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000324.html' title='Ten New Dresses'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112186168968378613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112186168968378613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186168968378613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186168968378613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/ten-new-dresses.html' title='Ten New Dresses'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112186128177960546</id><published>2005-07-20T12:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-20T12:08:01.786Z</updated><title type='text'>Love at 90</title><content type='html'>A 90-year-old man is sitting on a park bench, sobbing, when a young man walks by and asks him what's wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through his tears the old man answers, "I'm married to a 25-year-old woman!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong with that?" asks the young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between his sobs and sniffles, he answers, "You don't understand. Every morning before she goes to work, we make love. At lunchtime she comes home and we make love again, and then she makes my favorite meal. In the afternoon when she gets a break, she rushes home and gives me another quickie, the best an old man could want. Every evening she home cooks a fantastic meal, and as I relax in front of the TV afterwards she gives me a blowjob. And every night when we go to bed, we make sweet love and I get a fantastic sleep." He breaks down, no longer able to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man puts his arm around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand. It sounds like you have the perfect relationship. Why are you crying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man answers, again through his tears, "I forget where I live!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112186128177960546?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000443.html' title='Love at 90'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112186128177960546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112186128177960546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186128177960546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186128177960546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/love-at-90.html' title='Love at 90'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112186116649962417</id><published>2005-07-20T12:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-20T12:06:06.506Z</updated><title type='text'>She had 10 Husbands</title><content type='html'>A lawyer married a woman who had previously divorced ten husbands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On their wedding night, she told her new husband, "Please be gentle, I'm still a virgin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" said the puzzled groom. "How can that be if you've been married ten times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Husband #1 was a sales representative: he kept telling me how great it was going to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #2 was in software services: he was never really sure how it was supposed to function, but he said he'd look into it and get back to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #3 was from field services: he said everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #4 was in telemarketing: even though he knew he had the order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #5 was an engineer: he understood the basic process but wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art method.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #6 was from finance and administration: he thought he knew how, but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #7 was in marketing: although he had a nice product, he was never sure how to position it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #8 was a psychologist: all he ever did was talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #9 was a gynecologist: all he did was look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband #10 was a stamp collector: all he ever did was... God! I miss him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I've married you, I'm really excited!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good," said the new husband, "but, why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're a lawyer. This time I know I'm gonna get screwed!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112186116649962417?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112186116649962417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112186116649962417&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186116649962417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112186116649962417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/she-had-10-husbands.html' title='She had 10 Husbands'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112177920975769423</id><published>2005-07-19T13:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-19T13:20:09.766Z</updated><title type='text'>Please Be Safe :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/ATT00159.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112177920975769423?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112177920975769423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112177920975769423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177920975769423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177920975769423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/please-be-safe.html' title='Please Be Safe :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112177858324466742</id><published>2005-07-19T13:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-19T13:09:43.243Z</updated><title type='text'>Love, Lust and Marriage</title><content type='html'>Love: When you take a bubble bath together&lt;br /&gt;Lust: When you take a bath in Jell-o together&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: When you give the kids a bath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: A romantic candle-lit dinner for two&lt;br /&gt;Lust: Do I have to buy you dinner first?&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: 4 McDonald's Happy Meals -- to go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: Giving your love some candy&lt;br /&gt;Lust: Thinking you are the candy&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: Scraping the kids' candy off of the carpet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: Sex every night&lt;br /&gt;Lust: Sex 5 times a night&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: Remember sex? Me either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: A night out at the symphony&lt;br /&gt;Lust: A night out at the Holiday Inn&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: A night out at Sesame Street On Ice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: You smell French perfume&lt;br /&gt;Lust: You smell Brut aftershave&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: You smell evidence that the baby needs changing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: Lending your jacket to your love when she is cold&lt;br /&gt;Lust: I can think of a way to stay warm...&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: Your teenage daughter has borrowed all of your jackets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: Long drives through the countryside&lt;br /&gt;Lust: Long parking sessions at Lover's Lookout&lt;br /&gt;Marriage: Long drives with the kids asking, "Are we there yet?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112177858324466742?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000445.html' title='Love, Lust and Marriage'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112177858324466742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112177858324466742&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177858324466742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177858324466742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/love-lust-and-marriage.html' title='Love, Lust and Marriage'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112177853612241615</id><published>2005-07-19T13:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-19T13:08:56.133Z</updated><title type='text'>Girls Night Out</title><content type='html'>Last night, my friends and I went to a Ladies Night Club. One of the girls wanted to impress the rest of us, so she pulled out a $10 bill. When the male dancer came over to us, my friend licked the $10 bill and stuck it to his butt cheek!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be outdone, another friend pulls out a $20 bill. She called the guy back, licks the $20 bill, and sticks it to his other butt cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another attempt to impress the rest of us, my third friend pulls out a $50 bill and calls the guy over, and licks the $50 bill. I'm worried about the way things are going, but fortunately, she just stuck it to one of his butt cheeks again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My relief was short-lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing the way things are going, the guy races over to me! Now everyone's attention is focused on me, and the guy is egging me on to try to top the $50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain was churning as I reached for my wallet. What could I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman in me took over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got out my ATM card, swiped it down the crack of his butt, grabbed the eighty bucks, and left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112177853612241615?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000444.html' title='Girls Night Out'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112177853612241615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112177853612241615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177853612241615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177853612241615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/girls-night-out.html' title='Girls Night Out'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112177836262190269</id><published>2005-07-19T13:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-19T13:06:02.683Z</updated><title type='text'>Immutable Laws</title><content type='html'>When one wishes to unlock a door but has only has one hand free, the keys are in the opposite pocket.  (Von fumbles law)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A door will snap shut only when you have left the keys inside.  (Yale law of destiny)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When ones hands are covered with oil, grease, or glue, your nose will start to itch.   (Law of ichiban)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your insurance will cover everything but what has happened.  (Insurance so sorry law)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When things seem to be going well, you've probably forgotten to do something. (Cheney&amp;rsquo;s second corollary)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When things seem easy to do, it's because you haven't followed all the instructions. (Destiny awaits law)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you keep your cool when everyone else is losing his, it's probably because you have not realized the seriousness of the problem (law of gravitas)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most problems are not created nor solved, they only change appearances. (Einstein&amp;rsquo;s law of persistence)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will run to answer the telephone just as the party hangs up on you.  (Principle of dingaling)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever one wants to connect with the internet, the call you&amp;rsquo;ve been waiting for all day will arrive.  (Principle of Bellsouth)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there are only two programs on TV that are worth your time, they will always be at the same time.  (Law of wasteland)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cost is always higher than one budgets for, and it is exactly 3.14 times higher, hence the importance of pi.  (Law of pi eyed)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The probability that one will spill food on one's clothes is directly proportional to the need to be clean. (Law of Campbell scoop)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each and every body submerged in a bathtub will cause the phone to ring. (Law of ohmy gad)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each and every body sitting on a commode will cause the doorbell to ring.  (Law of ogolly gee!)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wind velocity will increase proportionally to the cost of one's hairdo. (The donking principle)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After discarding something not used for years, you will need it one week later.  (Law of fatal irreversibility)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving early for an appointment will cause the receptionist to be absent, and if one arrives late, everyone else has arrived before you.  (Law of de lay)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not take life too seriously, because in the end, you won't come out alive anyway." (Theory of absolute certainty)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112177836262190269?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112177836262190269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112177836262190269&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177836262190269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112177836262190269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/immutable-laws.html' title='Immutable Laws'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112168728490979978</id><published>2005-07-18T11:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-19T11:51:22.236Z</updated><title type='text'>Dummies :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/ATT00035.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112168728490979978?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112168728490979978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112168728490979978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168728490979978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168728490979978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/dummies.html' title='Dummies :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112168698711506203</id><published>2005-07-18T11:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-18T11:43:07.116Z</updated><title type='text'>You're a Jerk!</title><content type='html'>For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know. I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number, and dialed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man answered saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin, could I please speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. (I had transposed the last two digits of her phone number). After hanging up with her I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're a jerk!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'jerk' next to it and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him. He'd answer and I'd yell, "You're a jerk!" It always cheered me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Caller ID came to our area I thought my therapeutic 'jerk' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?" he yelled, "no!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jerk!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days later, right after calling the first jerk (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW jerk, too. I dialed and someone said, "Hello?" I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?" "Yes it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?" "Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's parked right out front." "What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said. "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home every evening after five." "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes?" "Don, you're a jerk!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, when I had a problem, I had two jerks to call. But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called jerk #1. "Hello" "You're a jerk!" I shouted, but I didn't hang up. "Are you still there?" he asked. "Yeah," I said. "Stop calling me!" he screamed. "Make me," I said. "Who are you?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My name is Don Hansen." "Yeah? Where do you live?" "Jerk, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house with my black Beemer out front."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers." I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, jerk." Then I called jerk #2: "Hello?" he said. "Hello jerk," I said. He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You'll what?" I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I answered, "Well, jerk, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West 34th Street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St. There, I saw two jerks beating the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112168698711506203?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000110.html' title='You&apos;re a Jerk!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112168698711506203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112168698711506203&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168698711506203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168698711506203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/youre-jerk.html' title='You&apos;re a Jerk!'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112168683162892382</id><published>2005-07-18T11:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-18T11:40:31.626Z</updated><title type='text'>Absence Excuses</title><content type='html'>1. My son is under a doctor's care and should not take P.E. today. Please execute him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Dear School: Please ekscuse John being absent on Jan.28,29,30,31,32, and also 33.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Please excuse Gloria from Jim today. She is administrating. Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had diahre dyrea direathe the shits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea and his boots leak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust. Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father's fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I kept Billie home to go Christmas shopping because I don't know what size she wear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Sally won't be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the Marines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Please excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover. Please excuse Burma, she has been sick and under the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Maryann was absent December 11-16, because she had a fever, sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister was also sick, fever and sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn't the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112168683162892382?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.jumbojoke.com/000442.html' title='Absence Excuses'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112168683162892382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112168683162892382&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168683162892382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168683162892382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/absence-excuses.html' title='Absence Excuses'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112168676084928323</id><published>2005-07-18T11:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-18T11:39:20.863Z</updated><title type='text'>Brain Dead</title><content type='html'>While visiting his niece, an elderly man had a heart attack. The woman drove wildly to get him to the emergency room. After what seemed like a very long wait, the E.R. doctor appeared, wearing his scrubs and a long face. Sadly, he said, I'm afraid that your uncle's brain is dead, but his heart is still beating. Oh, dear," cried the woman, her hands clasped against her cheeks with shock...We've never had a Democrat in the family before!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112168676084928323?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.scottandkim.net/fun/2005/07/brain-dead.html' title='Brain Dead'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112168676084928323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112168676084928323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168676084928323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112168676084928323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/brain-dead.html' title='Brain Dead'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112160696906200425</id><published>2005-07-17T13:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-18T10:52:05.466Z</updated><title type='text'>Why Women Should Not Join Chat Rooms :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/chatrooms.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112160696906200425?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112160696906200425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112160696906200425&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160696906200425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160696906200425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/why-women-should-not-join-chat-rooms.html' title='Why Women Should Not Join Chat Rooms :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112160646235662566</id><published>2005-07-17T13:20:00.001Z</published><updated>2005-07-17T13:21:02.356Z</updated><title type='text'>Do Me a Service?</title><content type='html'>Mantle, with several friends, was out looking for a place to hunt. They pulled into a farmer's yard, and Mantle got out and went up to the farmhouse to ask permission to hunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old farmer said, "Sure you can hunt, but would you do me a favor? That old mule standing over there is 20 years old and sick with cancer, but I don't have the heart to kill her. Would you do it for me?" Mantle took a look, said "sure," and headed back to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking back, however, he decided to pull a trick on his hunting buddies. He got into the car and when they asked if the farmer had said OK, he said, "No, we can't hunt here, but I'm going to teach that old cuss a lesson." With that, Mantle rolled down his window, stuck his gun out and blasted the mule. As he exclaimed, "There, that will teach him!" a second shot rang out from the passenger side. "There," shouted Billy Martin. "I got the cow!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112160646235662566?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112160646235662566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112160646235662566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160646235662566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160646235662566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/do-me-service.html' title='Do Me a Service?'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112160641883602781</id><published>2005-07-17T13:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-17T13:20:18.836Z</updated><title type='text'>The Plows Must Get Through!</title><content type='html'>One winter morning a couple was listening to the radio over breakfast. They hear the announcer say, "We are going to have 8 to 10 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the even-numbered side of the street so the snowplows can get through." Norman's wife goes out and moves her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later while they are eating breakfast and again, the radio announcer says, "We are expecting 10 to 12 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the odd-numbered side of the street so the snowplows can get through." Norman's wife goes out and moves her car again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next week they are again having breakfast when the radio announcer says "We are expecting 12 to 14 inches of snow today. You must park---" and right then the power goes out. Norman's wife is very upset, and with a worried look on her face she says, "Honey, I don't know what to do. Which side of the street do I need to park on so the snowplows can get through?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the love and understanding in his voice that all men who are married to blondes exhibit, Norman says, "Sweetie, why don't you just go ahead and leave it in the garage just this once?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112160641883602781?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112160641883602781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112160641883602781&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160641883602781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160641883602781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/plows-must-get-through.html' title='The Plows Must Get Through!'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112160636848544619</id><published>2005-07-17T13:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-17T13:19:28.496Z</updated><title type='text'>Victory in Iraq</title><content type='html'>The Iraqis can be bought by either side -- depending on how much you offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One guy was captured after firing rocket grenades and mortors at the American compound but all of his rounds went into a little lake next to the compound. After capture, they found that he was a local farmer and some guys knew him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asked why he was doing it, he said that the money was good. When asked why he was such a lousy shot, he said, "I don't want to kill Americans, I just needed the money and nobody said I had to hit anything!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112160636848544619?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112160636848544619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112160636848544619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160636848544619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112160636848544619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/victory-in-iraq.html' title='Victory in Iraq'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112149637763800193</id><published>2005-07-16T06:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-16T06:46:17.643Z</updated><title type='text'>Get String :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y131/Aliaksandr/getstring.gif" width=400 /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112149637763800193?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112149637763800193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112149637763800193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149637763800193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149637763800193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/get-string.html' title='Get String :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112149549474831137</id><published>2005-07-16T06:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-16T06:31:34.750Z</updated><title type='text'>Dirty words</title><content type='html'>A young couple got married &amp; went on a cruise for their honeymoon. When they got back from the honeymoon, the bride immediately called her mother, who lived a couple of hours away. "Well, darling," said her mom, "how was the honeymoon?" &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, mother," she replied, "the honeymoon was wonderful! So romantic, we had a terrific time! But, mother, as soon as we returned, Sam began using really horrible language... Stuff I'd never heard before... Really terrible 4-letter words... You've got to come get me and take me home... PLEASE MOTHER!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the new bride began to sob over the telephone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But honey," the mother countered, "WHAT 4-letter words?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't tell you, mother," said the daughter, "they're too awful! COME GET ME, _P_L_E_A_S_E_ !!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Darling daughter, you must tell me what has you so upset... Tell mother the 4-letter words!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still sobbing, the bride said, "Mother... it's just terrible. Words like DUST... WASH... IRON... COOK."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112149549474831137?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112149549474831137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112149549474831137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149549474831137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149549474831137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/dirty-words.html' title='Dirty words'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112149545141418622</id><published>2005-07-16T06:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-16T06:30:51.416Z</updated><title type='text'>A Valuable Saucer</title><content type='html'>In front of a delicatessen, an art connoisseur noticed a mangy little kitten lapping up milk from a saucer. The saucer, he realized with a start, was a rare and precious piece of pottery. &lt;br /&gt;He strolled into the store and offered two dollars for the cat. "It's not for sale," said the proprietor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look," said the collector, "that cat is dirty and undesirable, but I'm eccentric. I like cats that way. I'll raise my offer to ten dollars." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a deal," said the proprietor, and pocketed the ten on the spot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For that sum I'm sure you won't mind throwing in the saucer," said the connoisseur. "The kitten seems so happy drinking from it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing doing," said the proprietor firmly. "That's my lucky saucer. From that saucer, so far this week I've sold 34 cats."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112149545141418622?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112149545141418622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112149545141418622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149545141418622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149545141418622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/valuable-saucer.html' title='A Valuable Saucer'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112149540570069889</id><published>2005-07-16T06:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-16T06:30:05.706Z</updated><title type='text'>On Being a Comedian</title><content type='html'>People are always coming up to us after shows and asking how we became comedians. None of us has a satisfactory answer, but I believe I have the best of the lot. &lt;br /&gt;I believe that a person becomes a comedian the same way a woman becomes a prostitude. First you do it for fun, then you do it for a few friends, then you think, "I might as well get paid for this stuff." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a comedian is like being married to a nymphomaniac: it's great for about two weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I find myself telling people stories, and they give me money. Then a financial advisor tells me stories, and I give him money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a vicious circle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112149540570069889?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112149540570069889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112149540570069889&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149540570069889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112149540570069889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/on-being-comedian.html' title='On Being a Comedian'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112141333258553920</id><published>2005-07-15T07:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-15T12:12:09.586Z</updated><title type='text'>Camphone With Vibration Alert :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/140/2667/400/light20050715image001.jpg%4001C5678D.24E84A60.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112141333258553920?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112141333258553920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112141333258553920&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141333258553920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141333258553920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/camphone-with-vibration-alert.html' title='Camphone With Vibration Alert :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112141279286562307</id><published>2005-07-15T07:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-15T07:33:12.873Z</updated><title type='text'>Air Conditioning</title><content type='html'>A customer was continually bothering the waiter in a restaurant. First, he asked that the air conditioning be turned up because he was too cold, then he asked that it be turned down because he was too hot, and so it went for about a half an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprisingly, the waiter was very patient. He walked back and forth and never once got angry. Finally, a second customer asked the waiter why he didn't throw out the pest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I don't care," said the waiter with a smile. "We don't even have an air conditioner."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112141279286562307?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112141279286562307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112141279286562307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141279286562307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141279286562307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/air-conditioning.html' title='Air Conditioning'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112141274922966248</id><published>2005-07-15T07:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-15T07:32:29.240Z</updated><title type='text'>My Wife</title><content type='html'>At a posh Manhattan dinner party, a Latin American visitor was telling the guests about this home country and himself. As he concluded, he said, "And I have a charming and understanding wife but, alas, no children."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As his listeners appeared to be waiting for him to continue, he said, haltingly, "You see, my wife is unbearable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puzzled glances prompted him to try to clarify the matter:&lt;br /&gt;"What I mean is, my wife is inconceivable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As his companions seemed amused, he floundered deeper into the intricacies of the English language, explaining triumphantly, "That is, my wife, she is impregnable!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112141274922966248?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112141274922966248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112141274922966248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141274922966248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141274922966248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-wife.html' title='My Wife'/><author><name>Alex</name><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-8275089.post-112141270232304332</id><published>2005-07-15T07:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-07-15T07:31:43.160Z</updated><title type='text'>Southern Ladies</title><content type='html'>Two delicate flowers of Southern womanhood (one of whom was from South Carolina and other from Texas) were conversing on the porch swing of a large, white-pillared mansion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first woman, who was from Texas, said, "When my first child was born, my husband built this beautiful mansion for me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The South Carolina lady commented, "Well, isn't that nice??" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Texas woman continued, "When my second child was born, my husband bought me that fine Cadillac automobile you see parked in the drive." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the lady from South Carolina commented, "Well, isn't that nice??" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Texas woman boasted, "Then, when my third child was born, my husband bought me this exquisite diamond bracelet." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet again, the South Carolina lady commented, "Well, isn't that nice??" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman from Texas then asked her companion, "What did your husband buy for you when you had your first child?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady from South Carolina replied "My husband sent me to charm school." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Charm school?", the first woman cried, "Land sake's, child, what on Earth for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The South Carolina lady responded, "So that instead of saying 'Who gives a shit?' I learned to say, 'Well, isn't that nice?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8275089-112141270232304332?l=yourcool.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/feeds/112141270232304332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8275089&amp;postID=112141270232304332&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141270232304332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8275089/posts/default/112141270232304332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yourcool.blogspot.com/2005/07/southern-ladies.html' title='Southern Ladies'/><author><name>Alex</name><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>
