<?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-464102537727013616</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:09:27.516-07:00</updated><category term='Getting Older'/><category term='Marriage'/><category term='Technology'/><category term='Animals'/><category term='Celebrities'/><category term='Taxes'/><category term='Adages'/><category term='Blondes'/><category term='Ooops'/><category term='Stress'/><category term='Thanksgiving'/><category term='Comments'/><category term='Getting Even'/><category term='Stupidity Awards'/><category term='Advertisements'/><category term='Government'/><category term='Parents'/><category term='Games'/><category term='Practical Jokes'/><category term='Comedians'/><category term='Commercials'/><category term='Religious'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='Sex'/><category term='Shopping'/><category term='Comebacks'/><category term='Honeymoon'/><category term='Software'/><category term='Money'/><category term='Miscellaneous'/><category term='Dear Diary'/><category term='Idiots'/><category term='Groaners'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='Medical'/><category term='Lawyers'/><category term='Redneck'/><category term='Drunks'/><category term='Jargon'/><category term='Political'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Not Politically Correct'/><category term='For the Women'/><category term='Rules'/><category term='Poem'/><category term='Laws'/><category term='Heaven and Hell'/><category term='Engineers'/><category term='Embarrassing Moments'/><category term='Seniors'/><category term='Terms'/><category term='Grafx'/><category term='Males v. Females'/><category term='Grandparents'/><title type='text'>eMailed Funnies</title><subtitle type='html'>A place for storing some of those creatively funny stories I receive in my email.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>285</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7182670857836949409</id><published>2010-08-09T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T09:37:58.610-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Hooker's Union</title><content type='html'>A dedicated Teamsters union worker was attending a convention in Las Vegas and decided to check out the local brothels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got to the first one, he asked the Madam, "Is this a union house?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No,'"she replied, "I'm sorry it isn't."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The house gets $80 and the girls get $20," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Offended at such unfair dealings, the union man stomped off down the street in search of a more equitable, hopefully unionized shop. His search continued until finally he reached a brothel where the Madam responded, "Why yes sir, this is a union house. We observe all union rules."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked, "And, if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The girls get $80 and the house gets $20."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's more like it!" the union man said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He handed the Madam $100, looked around the room, and pointed to a stunningly attractive green-eyed blond. "I'd like her," he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sure you would, sir," said the Madam.&amp;nbsp; Then she gestured to a 92-year old woman in the corner, "but Ethel here has 67 years seniority and according to union rules, she's next."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7182670857836949409?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7182670857836949409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7182670857836949409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7182670857836949409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7182670857836949409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/08/hookers-union.html' title='Hooker&apos;s Union'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7779388344494234421</id><published>2010-07-07T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T21:31:24.461-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Animals'/><title type='text'>Couldn't Get Out of the Ticket</title><content type='html'>My wife was stopped for excessive speeding yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought she could talk her way out of a ticket until the officer looked at our dog in the back seat ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/TDVUZ1XAn2I/AAAAAAAAAJU/XP5t3iDnoqY/s1600/Drive2Fast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/TDVUZ1XAn2I/AAAAAAAAAJU/XP5t3iDnoqY/s320/Drive2Fast.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7779388344494234421?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7779388344494234421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7779388344494234421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7779388344494234421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7779388344494234421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/07/couldnt-get-out-of-ticket.html' title='Couldn&apos;t Get Out of the Ticket'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/TDVUZ1XAn2I/AAAAAAAAAJU/XP5t3iDnoqY/s72-c/Drive2Fast.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1790448631021928288</id><published>2010-06-07T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T14:12:46.481-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><title type='text'>No Speak English</title><content type='html'>A Russian woman married a Canadian gentleman and they lived happily ever after in Toronto .The poor lady was not very proficient in English,but did manage to communicate with her husband.The real problem arose whenever she had to shop for groceries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, she went to the butcher and wanted to buy chicken legs. She didn't know how to put forward her request, so, in desperation, clucked like a chicken and lifted up her skirt to show her thighs. Her butcher got the message and gave her the chicken legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day she needed to get chicken breasts, again she didn't know how to say it, so she clucked like a chicken and unbuttoned her blouse to show the butcher her breasts. The butcher understood again and gave her some chicken breasts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 3rd day, the poor lady needed to buy sausages. Unable to find a way to communicate this, she brought her husband to the store ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What were you thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband speaks English!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1790448631021928288?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1790448631021928288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1790448631021928288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1790448631021928288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1790448631021928288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/06/no-speak-english.html' title='No Speak English'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2009125718544545066</id><published>2010-06-06T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T17:30:42.462-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blondes'/><title type='text'>Free Trip to Europe</title><content type='html'>A&amp;nbsp; young New York woman was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the ocean.&amp;nbsp; But just before she could throw herself from the docks, a handsome young sailor stopped her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have so much to live for," said the sailor.&amp;nbsp; "Look, I'm off to Europe tomorrow and I can stow you away on my ship.&amp;nbsp; I'll take care of you, bring you food every day, and keep you happy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With nothing to lose, combined with the fact that she had always wanted to go to Europe, the woman accepted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat.&amp;nbsp; From then on, every night he would bring her three sandwiches and make love to her until dawn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks later she was discovered by the captain during a routine inspection. "What are you doing here?" asked the captain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors, "she replied. "He brings me food and I get a free trip to Europe.&amp;nbsp; Plus, he's screwing me. " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He certainly is," replied the captain. "This is the Staten Island Ferry".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2009125718544545066?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2009125718544545066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2009125718544545066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2009125718544545066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2009125718544545066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/06/free-trip-to-europe.html' title='Free Trip to Europe'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7963230931616172233</id><published>2010-06-06T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T17:25:57.374-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>Parking Ticket</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Working  people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days  interesting. &amp;nbsp;Well, for example, the other day my wife and I went into town and  went into a shop. &amp;nbsp;We were only in there for about 5 minutes. When we came out,  there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. &amp;nbsp;We went up to him and said, "Come  on man, how about giving a senior citizen a break?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;He ignored  us and continued writing the ticket. &amp;nbsp;I called him a Nazi turd. &amp;nbsp;He glared at me  and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. &amp;nbsp;So my wife called him  a sh..-head. &amp;nbsp;He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with  the first. &amp;nbsp;Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20  minutes. &amp;nbsp;The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Personally, we  didn't care. &amp;nbsp;We came into town by bus and saw the car had a Sarah Palin  sticker.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;We try to have a little fun each day now that we're retired.&amp;nbsp; It's  important at our age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7963230931616172233?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7963230931616172233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7963230931616172233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7963230931616172233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7963230931616172233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/06/parking-ticket.html' title='Parking Ticket'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7255493186379847582</id><published>2010-05-24T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T08:31:04.288-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>Political Science for Dummies</title><content type='html'>&lt;table border="1" style="width: 575px;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="154"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;DEMOCRAT &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="405"&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;Your neighbor has none. &lt;br /&gt;You feel guilty for being successful. &lt;br /&gt;You push for higher taxes so the government can provide cows for everyone. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;REPUBLICAN &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows. &lt;br /&gt;Your neighbor has none.&lt;br /&gt;So? &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;SOCIALIST &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor. &lt;br /&gt;You form a co-operative to tell him how to manage his cow. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;COMMUNIST &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;The government seizes both and provides you with milk. &lt;br /&gt;You wait in line for hours to get it.&lt;br /&gt;It is expensive and sour. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;Under the new farm program, the government pays you to shoot one, milk the other, and then pour the milk down the drain. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;AMERICAN CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one. &lt;br /&gt;You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. &lt;br /&gt;You are surprised when one cow drops dead. &lt;br /&gt;You spin an announcement to the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing expenses. &lt;br /&gt;Your stock goes up. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRENCH CORPORATION &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;You go on strike because you want three cows. &lt;br /&gt;You go to lunch and drink wine.&lt;br /&gt;Life is good. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;JAPANESE CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. &lt;br /&gt;They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.&lt;br /&gt;Most are at the top of their class at cow school.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;GERMAN CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows. &lt;br /&gt;You engineer them so they are all blonde, drink lots of beer, give excellent-quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour. &lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ITALIAN CORPORATION &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows but you don't know where they are. &lt;br /&gt;You break for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;Life is good. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;RUSSIAN CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;You drink some vodka.&lt;br /&gt;You count them and learn you have five cows. &lt;br /&gt;You drink some more vodka.&lt;br /&gt;You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. &lt;br /&gt;The Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;TALIBAN CORPORATION &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have all the cows in Afghanistan , which is two. &lt;br /&gt;You don't milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.&lt;br /&gt;You get a $40 million grant from the U.S. government to find alternatives to milk production but use the money to buy weapons. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;IRAQI CORPORATION &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two cows.&lt;br /&gt;They go into hiding. &lt;br /&gt;They send radio-tapes of their mooing. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;POLISH CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have two bulls.&lt;br /&gt;Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;BELGIAN CORPORATION &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have one cow.&lt;br /&gt;The cow is schizophrenic.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the cow thinks he's French, other times he's Flemish. &lt;br /&gt;The Flemish cow won't share with the French cow.&lt;br /&gt;The French cow wants control of the Flemish cow's milk. &lt;br /&gt;The cow asks permission to be cut in half.&lt;br /&gt;The cow dies happy. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;FLORIDA CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have a black cow and a brown cow.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone votes for the best-looking one. &lt;br /&gt;Some of the people who actually like the brown one best accidentally vote for the black one.&lt;br /&gt;Some people vote for both.&lt;br /&gt;Some people vote for neither.&lt;br /&gt;Some people can't figure out how to vote at all.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which one you think is the best-looking cow. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;CALIFORNIA CORPORATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You have millions of cows. &lt;br /&gt;They make real California cheese. &lt;br /&gt;Only five speak English.&lt;br /&gt;Most are illegal.&lt;br /&gt;Arnold likes the ones with the big udders. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7255493186379847582?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7255493186379847582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7255493186379847582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7255493186379847582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7255493186379847582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/political-science-for-dummies.html' title='Political Science for Dummies'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2264686977689677288</id><published>2010-05-22T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:42:49.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diaries of Cats and Dogs</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;Excerpts from a Dog's Daily Diary...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with my people! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0c343d;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Excerpts from a Cat's Daily Diary...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 983 of my captivity...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2264686977689677288?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2264686977689677288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2264686977689677288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2264686977689677288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2264686977689677288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/diaries-of-cats-and-dogs.html' title='Diaries of Cats and Dogs'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5878557132158271017</id><published>2010-05-22T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:38:43.108-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Chinese Sick Leave</title><content type='html'>Hung Chow calls into work and says, 'Hey, I no come work today, I really sick. Got headache, stomach ache and legs hurt, I no come work.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss says, 'You know something, Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel sick like you do, I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex. That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hours later Hung Chow calls again. 'I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon ... You got nice house!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5878557132158271017?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5878557132158271017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5878557132158271017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5878557132158271017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5878557132158271017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/chinese-sick-leave.html' title='Chinese Sick Leave'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5118490098215310679</id><published>2010-05-22T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:35:58.785-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Animals'/><title type='text'>Penguin v. Killer Whales</title><content type='html'>This amazing video shows a tiny little penguin who is being chased by a pod of killer whales. He was to be lunch for one of them. But nearby, there's a boat of tourists watching and filming all of this, And...well, penguins don't fear humans, so watch what the little guy does! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EBwqbqZ3L60&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EBwqbqZ3L60&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5118490098215310679?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5118490098215310679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5118490098215310679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5118490098215310679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5118490098215310679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/penguin-v-killer-whales.html' title='Penguin v. Killer Whales'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7568847291220260614</id><published>2010-05-22T11:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:32:45.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7568847291220260614?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7568847291220260614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7568847291220260614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7568847291220260614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7568847291220260614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5585875156223189813</id><published>2010-05-22T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:31:45.874-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>The Perfect Password</title><content type='html'>A woman was helping her husband set up his computer, and at the appropriate point in the process, the computer advised him that he would now need to enter a password. Something he will use to log on. The husband was in a rather amorous mood and figured he would try for the shock effect to bring this to his wife's attention. So, when the computer asked him to enter his password, he made it plainly obvious to his wife what he was entering by stating each letter out loud as he typed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P ... E ... N ... I ... S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife fell off her chair laughing when the computer replied: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**** PASSWORD REJECTED. NOT LONG ENOUGH***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5585875156223189813?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5585875156223189813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5585875156223189813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5585875156223189813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5585875156223189813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/perfect-password.html' title='The Perfect Password'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8227662689664094519</id><published>2010-05-22T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:29:12.595-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parents'/><title type='text'>New Driver</title><content type='html'>A teenage boy had just passed his driving test and inquired of his father as to when they could discuss his use of the car.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His father said he'd make a deal with his son: 'You bring your grades up from a C to a B average, study your Bible a little, and get your hair cut. Then we'll talk about the car.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The boy thought about that for a moment, decided he'd settle for the offer, and they agreed on it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After about six weeks his father said, 'Son, you've brought your grades up and I've observed that you have been studying your Bible, but I'm disappointed you haven't had your hair cut.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The boy said, 'You know, Dad, I've been thinking about that, and I've noticed in my studies of the Bible that Samson had long hair, John the Baptist had long hair, Moses had long hair...and there's even strong evidence that Jesus had long hair.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're going to love the Dad's reply:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His father replied, 'Did you also notice they all walked everywhere they went?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8227662689664094519?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8227662689664094519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8227662689664094519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8227662689664094519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8227662689664094519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/new-driver.html' title='New Driver'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8549190875378273410</id><published>2010-05-22T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:27:12.502-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>Two Garbage Bags</title><content type='html'>A little old lady is walking down the street dragging two large plastic garbage bags behind her. One of the bags rips, and every once in a while a $20 bill falls out onto the sidewalk. Noticing this, a policeman stops her, and says, "Ma'am, there are $20 bills falling out of your bag."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, really? Darn," says the little old lady. "I'd better go back, and see if I can find them. Thanks for telling me..."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Well, now, not so fast," says the cop. "How did you get all that money? You didn't steal it, did you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, no,' says the little old lady. You see, my back yard is right next to the football stadium parking lot. On game days, a lot of fans come and pee through the fence into my flower garden. So, I stand behind the fence with my hedge clippers. Each time some guy sticks his thing through the fence, I grab it and I say, '$20 or off it comes!'"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;OK, that seems only fair," laughs the cop. "So, good luck. Oh, by the way, what's in the other bag?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you know", says the little old lady, "not everybody pays."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8549190875378273410?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8549190875378273410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8549190875378273410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8549190875378273410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8549190875378273410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/two-garbage-bags.html' title='Two Garbage Bags'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6941305708205687792</id><published>2010-05-22T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:21:06.524-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>The Cowboy</title><content type='html'>A cowboy named Bud was overseeing his herd in a remote mountainous pasture in California when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced toward him out of a cloud of dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, RayBan sunglasses and YSL tie, leaned out the window and asked the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, Will you give me a calf?"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bud looks at the man, obviously a yuppie,then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg , Germany .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses an MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech,miniaturized HP LaserJet printer, turns to the cowboy and says, "You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says Bud. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on with amusement as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Bud says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?"         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're a Congressman for the U.S. Government", says Bud.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No guessing required." answered the cowboy. "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You used millions of dollars worth of equipment trying to show me how much smarter than me you are; and &lt;br /&gt;you don't know a thing about how working people make a living - or about cows, for that matter.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a herd of sheep. ..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now give me back my dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6941305708205687792?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6941305708205687792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6941305708205687792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6941305708205687792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6941305708205687792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/cowboy.html' title='The Cowboy'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-9198107287375049221</id><published>2010-05-22T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:11:03.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poems</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;WOMAN'S POEM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I lay me down to sleep,&lt;br /&gt;I pray for a man who's not a creep,&lt;br /&gt;One who's handsome, smart and strong.&lt;br /&gt;One who loves to listen long,&lt;br /&gt;One who thinks before he speaks,&lt;br /&gt;One who'll call, not wait for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;I pray he's rich and self-employed,&lt;br /&gt;And when I spend, won't be annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;Pull out my chair and hold my hand.&lt;br /&gt;Massage my feet and help me stand.&lt;br /&gt;Oh send a king to make me queen.&lt;br /&gt;A man who loves to cook and clean.&lt;br /&gt;I pray this man will love no other.&lt;br /&gt;And relish visits with my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;A MAN'S POEM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast&lt;br /&gt;nymphomaniac with big tits who owns a bar on a&lt;br /&gt;golf course, and loves to send me fishing and&lt;br /&gt;drinking. This doesn't rhyme and I&lt;br /&gt;don't give a shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-9198107287375049221?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/9198107287375049221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=9198107287375049221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/9198107287375049221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/9198107287375049221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/poems.html' title='Poems'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3812194115097944014</id><published>2010-05-22T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:08:39.997-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Embarrassing Moments'/><title type='text'>Framed</title><content type='html'>Charlie's wife, Lucy, had been after him for several weeks to paint the seat on their commode. Finally, he got around to doing it while Lucy was out. He left to take care of another matter before she returned. She came in and undressed to take a shower. Before getting in the shower, she sat on the commode. As she tried to stand up, she realized that the not-quite-dry epoxy paint had glued her to the commode seat. About that time, Charlie got home and realized her predicament.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both pushed and pulled without any success whatsoever. Finally, In desperation, Charlie undid the commode seat bolts. Lucy wrapped a sheet around herself and Charlie drove her to the Hospital Emergency Room. The ER Doctor got her into a position where he could study how to free her. Lucy tried to lighten the embarrassment of it all by saying "Well, Doctor, I'll bet you've never seen anything like this before". The Doctor replied "Actually, I've seen a lot of them. I just never saw one FRAMED before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3812194115097944014?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3812194115097944014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3812194115097944014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3812194115097944014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3812194115097944014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/framed.html' title='Framed'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3867057496001147179</id><published>2010-05-22T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:06:44.537-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Embarrassing Moments'/><title type='text'>Carburetor's Frozen</title><content type='html'>One bitterly cold winter's day, a police patrolman came across a motorcyclist, who was swthed in protective clothing and helmet, stalled by the roadside.&amp;nbsp; "What's the matter?" asked the policeman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Carburetor's frozen." was the terse reply.&amp;nbsp; "Pee on it. That'll thaw it out." replied the policeman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't." said the motorcyclist.&amp;nbsp; "Okay, Watch, and I'll show you." replied the policeman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The constable lubricated the carburetor, as promised.&amp;nbsp; The bike started and the rider drove off waving.&amp;nbsp; A few days later, the chief constable received a note of thanks from the father of the motorcycle rider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It began:&amp;nbsp; "On behalf of my daughter, who was recently stranded ...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3867057496001147179?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3867057496001147179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3867057496001147179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3867057496001147179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3867057496001147179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/carburetors-frozen.html' title='Carburetor&apos;s Frozen'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1130773682274668542</id><published>2010-05-22T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:59:44.802-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Reasons Not To Mess With Children</title><content type='html'>A&amp;nbsp;little girl was talking to her teacher about whales. The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it was physically impossible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl said, 'When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher asked, 'What if Jonah went to hell?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl replied, 'Then you ask him'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;A Kindergarten teacher was observing her classroom of children while they were drawing. She would occasionally walk around to see each child's work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she got to one little girl who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl replied, 'I'm drawing God.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher paused and said, 'But no one knows what God looks like.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing, the girl replied, 'They will in a minute.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her five and six year olds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After explaining the commandment to 'honor' thy Father and thy Mother, she asked, 'Is there a commandment that teaches us how to treat our brothers and sisters?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without missing a beat one little boy (the oldest of a family) answered, 'Thou shall not kill.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, 'Why are some of your hairs white, Mum?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mother replied, 'Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, 'Mummy, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;The children had all been photographed, and the teacher was trying to persuade them each to buy a copy of the group picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Just think how nice it will be to look at it when you are all grown up and say, 'There's Jennifer, she's a lawyer,' or 'That's Michael, He's a doctor..' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small voice at the back of the room rang out, 'And there's the teacher, she's dead.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;A teacher was giving a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying to make the matter clearer, she said, 'Now, class, if I stood on my head, the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I would turn red in the face.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes,' the class said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Then why is it that while I am standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my feet?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little fellow shouted, 'Cause your feet ain't empty.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Take only ONE .. God is watching.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A child had written a note, 'Take all you want. God is watching the apples.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1130773682274668542?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1130773682274668542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1130773682274668542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1130773682274668542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1130773682274668542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/reasons-not-to-mess-with-children.html' title='Reasons Not To Mess With Children'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4981021278073326085</id><published>2010-05-22T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:48:23.184-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Greatest Christmas Decoration Ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_gYx4bHAqI/AAAAAAAAAJE/O6efBoTmddE/s1600/XmasDecorations-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_gYx4bHAqI/AAAAAAAAAJE/O6efBoTmddE/s320/XmasDecorations-sm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"Good news is that I truly out did myself this year with my Christmas decorations. The bad news is that I had to take him down after 2 days. I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever.Great stories. But two things made me take it down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, a 55 year old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder almost killed herself putting it against my house and didn't realize it was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy). By the way, she was one of many people who attempted to do that. My yard couldn't take it either. I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4981021278073326085?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4981021278073326085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4981021278073326085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4981021278073326085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4981021278073326085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/greatest-christmas-decoration-ever.html' title='Greatest Christmas Decoration Ever'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_gYx4bHAqI/AAAAAAAAAJE/O6efBoTmddE/s72-c/XmasDecorations-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3917537048961887404</id><published>2010-05-22T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:22:20.371-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>The Power of the Badge</title><content type='html'>DEA officer stops at a ranch in Texas , and talks with an old rancher. He tells the rancher, "I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs." The rancher says, "Okay, but do not go in that field over there," as he points out the location. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The DEA officer verbally explodes saying, "Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me." Reaching into his rear pants pocket, he removes his badge and proudly displays it to the rancher. "See this badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish. On any land. No questions asked or answers given. Have I made myself clear? Do you understand?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rancher nods politely, apologizes, and goes about his chores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time later, the old rancher hears loud screams and sees the DEA officer running for his life chased by the rancher's big Santa Gertrudis bull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With every step the bull is gaining ground on the officer, and it seems likely that he'll get gored before he reaches safety. The officer is clearly terrified. The rancher throws down his tools, runs to the fence and yells at the top of his lungs: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Your badge ... Show him your BADGE ! "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3917537048961887404?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3917537048961887404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3917537048961887404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3917537048961887404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3917537048961887404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/power-of-badge.html' title='The Power of the Badge'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8538233225704922886</id><published>2010-05-22T10:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:36:55.627-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>Husband Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/t7Y0I91rubg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/t7Y0I91rubg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8538233225704922886?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8538233225704922886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8538233225704922886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8538233225704922886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8538233225704922886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/husband-song.html' title='Husband Song'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2953290914861990843</id><published>2010-05-22T10:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:31:54.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7OUj_5s7Ktg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7OUj_5s7Ktg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2953290914861990843?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2953290914861990843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2953290914861990843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2953290914861990843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2953290914861990843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/perfect-daughter.html' title='Perfect Daughter'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5743323668241972205</id><published>2010-05-22T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:29:38.574-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Getting Older'/><title type='text'>DON'T MESS WITH OLD FOLKS.</title><content type='html'>An older gentleman had an appointment to see the urologist who shared offices with several other doctors. The waiting room was filled with patients. As he approached the receptionist's desk, he noticed that the receptionist was a large unfriendly woman who looked like a Sumo wrestler. He gave her his name. &lt;br /&gt;In a very loud voice, the receptionist said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"YES, I HAVE YOUR NAME HERE. YOU WANT TO SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT IMPOTENCE, RIGHT ?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to look at the very embarrassed man. He recovered quickly, and in an equally loud voice replied,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO, I'VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT A SEX CHANGE OPERATION,BUT I DON'T WANT THE SAME DOCTOR THAT DID YOURS." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room erupted in applause!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5743323668241972205?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5743323668241972205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5743323668241972205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5743323668241972205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5743323668241972205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/dont-mess-with-old-folks.html' title='DON&apos;T MESS WITH OLD FOLKS.'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4394044732449687225</id><published>2010-05-22T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:32:33.552-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stupidity Awards'/><title type='text'>Darwin Awards</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's that magical time of year again when the Darwin Awards are bestowed, honoring the least evolved among us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the glorious winner:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;When his 38 caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach , California would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat cutting machine and after a little shopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company expecting negligence sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and he also lost a finger.&amp;nbsp; The chef's claim was approved.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. Understandably, he shot her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20&amp;nbsp;bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer.. $15. [If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seems an Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly. He decided that he'd just throw a cinder block through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinder block and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinder block bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;As a female shopper exited a New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called 911 immediately, and the woman was able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes, officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti , Michigan at 5 A.M., flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast. The man, frustrated, walked away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a Seattle street, he got much more than he bargained for. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said that the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline, but he plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4394044732449687225?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4394044732449687225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4394044732449687225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4394044732449687225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4394044732449687225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/darwin-awards.html' title='Darwin Awards'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1934590222337271724</id><published>2010-05-22T10:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T10:12:26.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doritos Slap</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4rsEnwKrsvc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4rsEnwKrsvc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1934590222337271724?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1934590222337271724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1934590222337271724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1934590222337271724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1934590222337271724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/doritos-slap.html' title='Doritos Slap'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2230706412966695600</id><published>2010-05-22T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:52:57.527-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>How the Fight Starts ...</title><content type='html'>One year, a husband decided to buy his mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift. The next year, he didn't buy her a gift. When she asked him why, he replied, "Well, you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's how the fight started..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my wife, 'Where do you want to go for our anniversary?' It warmed my heart to see her face melt in sweet appreciation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!' she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I suggested, 'How about the kitchen?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when the fight started....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I are watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were&lt;br /&gt;in bed. I turned to her and said, 'Do you want to have sex?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No,' she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then said, 'Is that your final answer?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying 'Yes.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I said, 'Then I'd like to phone a friend.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when the fight started....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to talk my wife into buying a case of Miller Light for $14.95.&lt;br /&gt;Instead, she bought a jar of cold cream for $7.95. I told her the beer&lt;br /&gt;would make her look better at night than the cold cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when the fight started........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.  'I'll have the strip steak, medium rare, please.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, 'Aren't you worried about the mad cow?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Nah, she can order for herself.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when the fight started ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping&lt;br /&gt;the channels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked, 'What's on TV?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, 'Dust.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fight started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, 'I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 200 in about 3 seconds.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought her a scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fight started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table. I asked her, 'Do you know him?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes,' she sighed, ' He's my old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'My God!' I said, 'who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fight started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rear-ended a car this morning.. So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well I couldn't believe it... he was a DWARF!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, 'I AM NOT HAPPY!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I looked down at him and said, 'Well, then which one are you?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fight started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;================&lt;br /&gt;THE BROKEN LAWN MOWER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed.  But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the truck, the car, playing golf, always something more important to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush. I said, 'When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2230706412966695600?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2230706412966695600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2230706412966695600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2230706412966695600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2230706412966695600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-fight-starts.html' title='How the Fight Starts ...'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5102282916099629916</id><published>2010-05-22T09:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:41:47.689-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>The Perfect Man</title><content type='html'>The perfect man is gentle&lt;br /&gt;Never cruel or mean&lt;br /&gt;He has a beautiful smile&lt;br /&gt;And keeps his face so clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man likes children&lt;br /&gt;And will raise them by your side&lt;br /&gt;He will be a good father&lt;br /&gt;As well as a good husband to his bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man loves cooking&lt;br /&gt;Cleaning and vacuuming too&lt;br /&gt;He'll do anything in his power&lt;br /&gt;To convey his feelings of love on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man is sweet&lt;br /&gt;Writing poetry from your name&lt;br /&gt;He's a best friend to your mother&lt;br /&gt;And kisses away your pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never has made you cry&lt;br /&gt;Or hurt you In any way&lt;br /&gt;Oh, %*#%!@# this stupid poem&lt;br /&gt;The perfect man is gay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5102282916099629916?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5102282916099629916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5102282916099629916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5102282916099629916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5102282916099629916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/perfect-man.html' title='The Perfect Man'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5136863882693582673</id><published>2010-05-22T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:40:13.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nolan's Cheese</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="385" width="640"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/07LG4UvTTsQ&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/07LG4UvTTsQ&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5136863882693582673?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5136863882693582673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5136863882693582673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5136863882693582673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5136863882693582673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/nolans-cheese.html' title='Nolan&apos;s Cheese'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1195981892415653043</id><published>2010-05-22T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:35:13.583-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>Thought for the day...</title><content type='html'>Fact of Life:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; After Monday and Tuesday even the calendar says . . . . . .&amp;nbsp; W T F&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1195981892415653043?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1195981892415653043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1195981892415653043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1195981892415653043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1195981892415653043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/thought-for-day_22.html' title='Thought for the day...'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8533136289365933876</id><published>2010-05-22T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:25:10.813-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dear Diary'/><title type='text'>An Actual Craig's List Personals Ad</title><content type='html'>To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me in Downtown Savannah night before last. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: 2009-05-27, 2 01:43 a.m. E.S.T. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the guy wearing the black Burberry jacket that you demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend, threatening our lives. You also asked for my girlfriend's purse and earrings. I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I'd like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn't expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason. My girlfriend had just bought me that Kimber Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening.. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head ... isn't it?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it probably wasn't fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with that brown sludge in your pants. I'm sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. [That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again]. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I called your mother or "Momma" as you had her listed in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you'd done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station, -- on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 150 gallons and was extremely grateful! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave your shoes to a homeless guy outside Vinnie Van Go Go's, along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then threw your wallet into the big pink "pimp mobile" that was parked at the curb ... after I broke the windshield and side window and keyed the entire driver's side of the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I called a bunch of phone sex numbers from your cell phone. Ma Bell just now shut down the line, although I only used the phone for a little over a day now, so what 's going on with that? Earlier, I managed to get in two threatening phone calls to the DA's office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Obama as my possible target. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you ... but I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you've chosen to pursue in life. Remember, next time you might not be so lucky. Have a good day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughtfully yours, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8533136289365933876?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8533136289365933876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8533136289365933876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8533136289365933876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8533136289365933876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/actual-craigs-list-personals-ad.html' title='An Actual Craig&apos;s List Personals Ad'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4587310676399134953</id><published>2010-05-22T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:23:12.400-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>The Awesome Power of a Wife's Love</title><content type='html'>A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the stairs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, spread out on newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when he was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4587310676399134953?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4587310676399134953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4587310676399134953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4587310676399134953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4587310676399134953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/awesome-power-of-wifes-love.html' title='The Awesome Power of a Wife&apos;s Love'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6273299921466702648</id><published>2010-05-22T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T09:20:50.967-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>MEN!!!!</title><content type='html'>One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his Sweatshirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, He shouted to me, 'What setting do I use on the Washing machine?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'It depends,' I replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What does it say on your shirt?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He yelled back, ' OHIO STATE ! ' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they say Blondes are dumb... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple is lying in bed. The man says, 'I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world..' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replies, 'I'll miss you....... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'It's just too hot to wear clothes today,' Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, 'honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Probably that I married you for your money,' she replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: A rumor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and his wife, now in their 60's, were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. On their special day &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good fairy came to them and said that because they had been so good that each one of them could have one wish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife wished for a trip around the world with her husband. Whoosh! Immediately she had airline/cruise tickets in her hands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man wished for a female companion 30 years younger. Whoosh ...immediately he turned 90!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love that fairy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Lord, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to forgive him; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Patience for his moods. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll beat him to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do little boys whine? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: They are practicing to be men. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What do you call a handcuffed man? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Trustworthy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: You did not hold the pillow down long enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why do men whistle when they are sitting on the toilet? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: It helps them remember which end to wipe.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Rename the email folder 'Instruction Manuals' &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/464102537727013616-6273299921466702648?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6273299921466702648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6273299921466702648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6273299921466702648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6273299921466702648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/men.html' title='MEN!!!!'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3704842508546987303</id><published>2010-05-22T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T08:30:38.703-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>A Good Poem ...</title><content type='html'>He didn't like the casserole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he didn't like my cake, &lt;br /&gt;he said my biscuits were too hard &lt;br /&gt;Not like his mother used to make. &lt;br /&gt;I didn't perk the coffee right &lt;br /&gt;He didn't like the stew, &lt;br /&gt;I didn't mend his socks &lt;br /&gt;The way his mother used to do. &lt;br /&gt;I pondered for an answer &lt;br /&gt;I was looking for a clue. &lt;br /&gt;Then I turned around and &lt;br /&gt;smacked the crap out of him.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like his mother used to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love a good poem, don't you?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3704842508546987303?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3704842508546987303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3704842508546987303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3704842508546987303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3704842508546987303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-poem.html' title='A Good Poem ...'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3042088443686149185</id><published>2010-05-22T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T08:20:57.244-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>And then ....</title><content type='html'>A doctor examining a woman who had been rushed to the Emergency Room, took the husband aside, and said, 'I don't like the looks of your wife at all.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Me neither doc,' said the husband. 'But she's a great cook and really good with the kids.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old man goes to the Wizard to ask him if he can remove a curse he has been living with for the last 40 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Wizard says, 'Maybe, but you will have to tell me the exact words that were used to put the curse on you.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man says without hesitation, 'I now pronounce you man and wife.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While shopping for vacation clothes, my husband and I passed a display of bathing suits. It had been at least ten years and twenty pounds since I had even considered buying a bathing suit, so I sought my husband's advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What do you think?' I asked.. 'Should I get a bikini or an all-in-one?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Better get a bikini,' he replied 'You'd never get it all in one.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's still in intensive care. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The graveside service just barely finished, when there was a massive clap of thunder, followed by a tremendous bolt of lightning, accompanied by even more thunder rumbling in the distance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little old man looked at the preacher and calmly said, 'Well......she's there.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3042088443686149185?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3042088443686149185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3042088443686149185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3042088443686149185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3042088443686149185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/doctor-examining-woman-who-had-been.html' title='And then ....'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5534943070254421051</id><published>2010-05-22T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T08:16:20.873-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laws'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rules'/><title type='text'>Laws</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Mechanical Repair&lt;/strong&gt; - After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch and you'll have to go to the bathroom. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Gravity&lt;/strong&gt; - Any tool, nut, bolt, screw, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Probability&lt;/strong&gt; -The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Random Numbers&lt;/strong&gt; - If you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal and someone always answers. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of the Alibi&lt;/strong&gt; - If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Variation Law&lt;/strong&gt; - If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will always move faster than the one you are in now (works every time). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of the Bath&lt;/strong&gt; - When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Close Encounters&lt;/strong&gt; -The probability of meeting someone you know increases dramatically when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of the Result&lt;/strong&gt; - When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Biomechanics&lt;/strong&gt; - The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of the Theater and Hockey Arena&lt;/strong&gt; - At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle, always arrive last. They are the ones who will leave their seats several times to go for food, beer, or the toilet and who leave early before the end of the performance or the game is over. The folks in the aisle seats come early, never move once, have long gangly legs or big bellies, and stay to the bitter end of the performance.. The aisle people also are very surly folk. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Coffee Law&lt;/strong&gt; - As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Murphy's Law of Lockers&lt;/strong&gt; - If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Physical Surfaces&lt;/strong&gt; - The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich landing face down on a floor, are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet or rug. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law of Logical Argument&lt;/strong&gt; - Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Brown's Law of Physical Appearance&lt;/strong&gt; - If the clothes fit, they're ugly. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&amp;nbsp;Oliver's Law of Public Speaking - A closed mouth gathers no feet. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wilson's Law of Commercial Marketing Strategy&lt;/strong&gt; - As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Doctors' Law&lt;/strong&gt; - If you don't feel well, make an appointment to go to the doctor; by the time you get there you'll feel better. But don't make an appointment, and you'll stay sick.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5534943070254421051?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5534943070254421051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5534943070254421051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5534943070254421051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5534943070254421051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/laws.html' title='Laws'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7940926115970233139</id><published>2010-05-22T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T08:08:56.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adages'/><title type='text'>The Window From Which We Look</title><content type='html'>A young couple moves into a new neighborhood.&amp;nbsp; The next morning while they are eating breakfast, &lt;br /&gt;the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside.&amp;nbsp; "That laundry is not very clean", she said.&amp;nbsp; "She doesn't know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband looked on, but remained silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband:&amp;nbsp; "Look, she has learned how to wash correctly.&amp;nbsp; I wonder who taught her this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband said, "I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it is with life. What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7940926115970233139?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7940926115970233139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7940926115970233139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7940926115970233139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7940926115970233139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/window-from-which-we-look.html' title='The Window From Which We Look'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8781318101139946008</id><published>2010-05-22T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T07:52:36.239-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>Thought for the Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Have you ever wondered if the one dollar bills &lt;br /&gt;In your wallet were ever in a stripper's butt crack? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If not, you're wondering now. Have a nice day .. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_fvOcFrzSI/AAAAAAAAAI8/DtIoy9tZmo0/s1600/oh_sht.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_fvOcFrzSI/AAAAAAAAAI8/DtIoy9tZmo0/s320/oh_sht.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So folks, always remember to wash your hands after handling money! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's my public service announcement for the day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8781318101139946008?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8781318101139946008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8781318101139946008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8781318101139946008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8781318101139946008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/thought-for-day.html' title='Thought for the Day!'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/S_fvOcFrzSI/AAAAAAAAAI8/DtIoy9tZmo0/s72-c/oh_sht.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2211974741409709939</id><published>2010-05-21T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T20:57:09.327-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Engineers'/><title type='text'>Sometimes it DOES take a Rocket Scientist</title><content type='html'>Scientists at NASA built a gun specifically to launch standard 4-pound dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains. Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British engineers. When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield,smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;console, snapped the engineer's back-rest in two, and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield, and begged the US scientists for suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NASA responded with a one-line memo: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Defrost the chicken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2211974741409709939?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2211974741409709939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2211974741409709939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2211974741409709939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2211974741409709939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2010/05/sometimes-it-does-take-rocket-scientist.html' title='Sometimes it DOES take a Rocket Scientist'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4001627666583293720</id><published>2009-06-03T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T06:43:27.926-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blondes'/><title type='text'>The Blonde Joke to End All Blonde Jokes</title><content type='html'>A blonde woman was speeding down the road in her little red sports car and was pulled over by a woman police officer who was also a blonde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The  blonde cop asked to see the blonde driver's license. She dug through her purse and was getting progressively more agitated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What does it look like?' she finally asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The policewoman replied, 'It's square and it has your picture on it..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver finally found a square mirror in her purse, looked at it and handed it to the policewoman. 'Here it is,' she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde officer looked at the mirror, then handed it back saying, OK, you can  go. I didn't realize you were a cop.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4001627666583293720?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4001627666583293720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4001627666583293720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4001627666583293720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4001627666583293720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/blonde-joke-to-end-all-blonde-jokes.html' title='The Blonde Joke to End All Blonde Jokes'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4653772783277326640</id><published>2009-06-03T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:23:10.206-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>The Tale of Two Crocodiles</title><content type='html'>Two Crocodiles were sitting at the side of the swamp near the lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The smaller one turned to the bigger one and said, 'I can't understand how you can be so much bigger than me. We're the same age; we were the same size as kids.I just don't get it.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Well,' said the big Croc, 'what have you been eating?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Politicians, same as you,' replied the small Croc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Hmm. Well, where do you catch them?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Down the other side of the swamp near the parking lot by the Capitol.'   'Same here. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you catch them?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Well, I crawl up under one of their Lexus cars and wait for one to unlock the car door. Then I jump out, grab them by the leg, shake the shit out of them and  eat 'em!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Ah!' says the big Crocodile, 'I think I see your problem.  You're not getting any real nourishment. You see, by the time you finish shaking the shit out of a Politician, there's  nothing left but an asshole and a briefcase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4653772783277326640?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4653772783277326640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4653772783277326640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4653772783277326640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4653772783277326640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/tale-of-two-crocodiles.html' title='The Tale of Two Crocodiles'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5100554640018423041</id><published>2009-06-03T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T06:45:34.309-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grafx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Getting Older'/><title type='text'>It's About Time This Happened to Her</title><content type='html'>Happy 5oth Barbie .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SiZ7FppMnMI/AAAAAAAAAG8/W8IpVEpiMF8/s1600-h/50Barbie.png"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343093344929881282" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SiZ7FppMnMI/AAAAAAAAAG8/W8IpVEpiMF8/s320/50Barbie.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5100554640018423041?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5100554640018423041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5100554640018423041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5100554640018423041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5100554640018423041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-about-time-this-happened-to-her.html' title='It&apos;s About Time This Happened to Her'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SiZ7FppMnMI/AAAAAAAAAG8/W8IpVEpiMF8/s72-c/50Barbie.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8123270948188580</id><published>2009-06-03T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T06:26:45.042-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Daddy's Gonna Eat Your Fingers</title><content type='html'>I was packing for my business trip and my three year old daughter was having a wonderful time playing on the bed. At one point she said,' Daddy, look at this', and stuck out two of her fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to keep her entertained, I reached out and stuck her tiny fingers in my mouth and said, 'Daddy's gonna eat your fingers,' pretending to eat them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to packing, looked up again and my daughter was standing on the bed staring at her fingers with a devastated look on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, 'What's wrong, honey?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she replied,   'What happened to my booger?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8123270948188580?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8123270948188580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8123270948188580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8123270948188580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8123270948188580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/daddys-gonna-eat-your-fingers.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Gonna Eat Your Fingers'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8590181715752195128</id><published>2009-06-03T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T05:51:31.610-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Vibrator</title><content type='html'>As a woman passed her daughter's closed bedroom door, she heard a strange buzzing noise coming from within. Opening the door, she observed her daughter with a vibrator.&lt;br /&gt;Shocked, she asked: 'what in the world are you doing?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The daughter replied: 'mom, I'm thirty-five years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Please, go away and leave me alone.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the girl's father heard the same buzz coming from the other side of the closed bedroom door. Upon entering the room, he observed his daughter making passionate love to her vibrator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To his query as to what she was doing, the daughter said: 'dad I'm thirty-five, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Please, go away and leave me alone.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple days later, the wife came home from a shopping trip, placed the groceries on the kitchen counter, and heard that buzzing noise coming from, of all places, the living room. She entered that area and observed her husband sitting on the couch, downing a cold beer, and staring at the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vibrator was next to him on the couch, buzzing like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife asked: 'What the devil are you doing?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replied: 'I'm watching football with my son-in-law.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8590181715752195128?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8590181715752195128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8590181715752195128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8590181715752195128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8590181715752195128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/vibrator.html' title='The Vibrator'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5220137417294995988</id><published>2009-06-03T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T05:48:08.756-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Getting Older'/><title type='text'>It's Hell Getting Old</title><content type='html'>Old people have problems that you haven't even considered yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An 85-year-old man was requested by his doctor for a sperm count as part of his physical exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor gave the man a jar and said, ''Take this jar home and bring back a semen sample tomorrow.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day the 85-year-old man reappeared at the doctor's office and gave him the jar, which was as clean and empty as on the previous day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor asked what happened and the man explained, ''Well, doc, it's like this--first I tried with my right hand, but nothing. Then I tried with my left hand, but still nothing.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Then I asked my wife for help. She tried with her right hand, then with her left, still nothing. She tried with her mouth, first with the teeth in, then with her teeth out, still nothing. We even called up Arleen, the lady next door and she tried too, first with both hands, then an armpit, and she even tried squeezin' it between her knees, but still nothing.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor was shocked! 'You asked your neighbor?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man replied, ''Yep, none of us could get the damn jar open.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought this was going to be dirty DIDN'T Ya???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5220137417294995988?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5220137417294995988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5220137417294995988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5220137417294995988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5220137417294995988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-hell-getting-old.html' title='It&apos;s Hell Getting Old'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1748584458231132979</id><published>2009-06-03T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T05:43:28.571-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>SOPs for BBQs</title><content type='html'>We are about to enter the BBQ season. Therefore, it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette and standard operating procedure for this sublime outdoor cooking activity. When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Routine...&lt;br /&gt;(1) The woman buys the food.&lt;br /&gt;(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables and makes dessert.&lt;br /&gt;(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.&lt;br /&gt;(4) The woman remains outside the compulsory three metre exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here comes the important part:&lt;br /&gt;(5) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More routine...&lt;br /&gt;(6) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.&lt;br /&gt;(7) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great.&lt;br /&gt;He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat.&lt;br /&gt;Important again:&lt;br /&gt;(8) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More routine...&lt;br /&gt;(9) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauce and brings them to the table.&lt;br /&gt;(10) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most important of all:&lt;br /&gt;(11) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.&lt;br /&gt;(12) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed her 'night off ', and, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1748584458231132979?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1748584458231132979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1748584458231132979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1748584458231132979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1748584458231132979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/sops-for-bbqs.html' title='SOPs for BBQs'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7615023327825929181</id><published>2009-06-03T05:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T05:40:40.968-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Two Little Boys</title><content type='html'>Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and their parents knew all about it. If any mischief occurred in their town, the two boys were probably involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, 'Do you know where God is, son?' The boy's mouth dropped open , but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, 'Where is God?' Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, 'Where is God?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, 'What happened?' The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied,'We are in BIG trouble this time,'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I just LOVE reading this next line again and again:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'GOD is missing, and they think we did it!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7615023327825929181?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7615023327825929181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7615023327825929181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7615023327825929181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7615023327825929181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/06/two-little-boys.html' title='Two Little Boys'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1550010193769316675</id><published>2009-05-24T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T09:31:19.780-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dear Diary'/><title type='text'>The Colonoscopy</title><content type='html'>“I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.  A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.  I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ‘HE’S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven.  I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America’s enemies.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.  Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with fewer flavors.  Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water.  (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.)  Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, a loose, watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but:  Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch?  This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt.  You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything.  And then, when you figure you  must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which  point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet. After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic.  I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage.  I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?'  How do you apologize to a friend for something like that?  Flowers would not be enough.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said.  Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.  Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down.  Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep.  At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode.  You would have no choice but to burn your house.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist.  I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point.  Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand..  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA.  I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said.  And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.      &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I have no idea.  Really.  I slept through it.  One moment, ABBA was yelling ‘Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.  Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt.  I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors.  I have never been prouder of an internal organ.     &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;On the subject of Colonoscopies...  Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous.  A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their  colonoscopies:    &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. 'Can you hear me NOW ?'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And the best one of all.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;12. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1550010193769316675?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1550010193769316675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1550010193769316675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1550010193769316675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1550010193769316675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/colonoscopy.html' title='The Colonoscopy'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6177754367577783129</id><published>2009-05-24T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T09:28:40.598-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>Gonna Be a Bear</title><content type='html'>In this life, I'm a woman.  In my next life, I'd like to come back as a bear.  When you're a bear, you get to hibernate.  You do nothing but sleep for six months.  I could deal with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid.  I could deal with that tool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute, cuddly cubs.  I could definitely deal with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business.  You swat anyone who bothers your cubs.  If you cubs get out of line, you swat them too.  I could deal with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling.  He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup ... gonna be a bear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6177754367577783129?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6177754367577783129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6177754367577783129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6177754367577783129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6177754367577783129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/gonna-be-bear.html' title='Gonna Be a Bear'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2934003115019437974</id><published>2009-05-24T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T09:24:12.614-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>Senility Prayer</title><content type='html'>Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway,&lt;br /&gt;The good fortune to run into the ones I do,&lt;br /&gt;and The eyesight to tell the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2934003115019437974?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2934003115019437974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2934003115019437974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2934003115019437974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2934003115019437974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/senility-prayer.html' title='Senility Prayer'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5011998050812726301</id><published>2009-05-24T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T09:16:51.921-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>The Difference Between Men and Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;NICKNAMES &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If Laura, Kate and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla and Four-eyes.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;EATING OUT&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the bill arrives, Mike, Dave and John will each throw in $20, even though it's only for $32.50. None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MONEY&lt;/strong&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't need but it's on sale.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BATHROOMS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man has six items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel ... &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom is 337. A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ARGUMENTS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A woman has the last word in any argument. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FUTURE &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SUCCESS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A successful woman is one who can find such a man. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MARRIAGE &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, but she does. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DRESSING UP&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the trash, answer the phone, read a book, and get the mail. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man will dress up for weddings and funerals. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NATURAL &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Women somehow deteriorate during the night. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OFFSPRING &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends, favorite foods, secret fears and hopes and dreams.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THOUGHT FOR THE DAY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A married man should forget his mistakes. There's no use in two people remembering the same thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5011998050812726301?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5011998050812726301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5011998050812726301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5011998050812726301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5011998050812726301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/difference-between-men-and-women.html' title='The Difference Between Men and Women'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7819486261866639070</id><published>2009-05-24T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T09:06:04.717-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>The Hypnotist</title><content type='html'>It was entertainment night at the Senior Center.  Claude the hypnotist exclaimed: "I'm here to put you all into a trance - I intend to hypnotize each and every member of the audience."&lt;br /&gt;The excitement was almost electric as Claude withdrew a beautiful antique pocket watch from his coat. The polished metal gleamed in the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claude the hypnotist said: "I want you each to keep your eyes on this antique watch. It's a very special watch. It's been in my family for six generations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He began to swing the watch gently back and forth while quietly chanting, "Watch the watch, watch the watch, watch the watch..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd became mesmerized as the watch swayed back and forth, light shimmering off its polished surface. Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the swaying watch, until, suddenly, it slipped from the hypnotist's fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"SHIT!" said the Hypnotist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took 3 days to clean up the Senior Center.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7819486261866639070?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7819486261866639070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7819486261866639070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7819486261866639070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7819486261866639070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/hypnotist.html' title='The Hypnotist'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6760359685984367980</id><published>2009-05-18T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T09:31:13.268-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Why Parents Drink</title><content type='html'>A boss wondered why one of his most valued employees had not phoned in sick one day. Having an urgent problem with one of the main computers, he dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whisper.  &lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;"Hello?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is your daddy home?" he asked.   &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Yes,"&lt;/span&gt; whispered the small voice.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May I talk with him?"   &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;The child whispered, "No."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?"   &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;"Yes ."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with her?"   &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Again the small voice whispered, "No."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else there?"   &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Yes," whispered the child, "a policeman."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"   &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"No, he's busy,"&lt;/span&gt; whispered the child.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Busy doing what?"   &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman," came the whispered answer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise in the background through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?"   &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A helicopter," answered the whispering voice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.   &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Again, whispering, the child answered, "The search team just landed a helicopter."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle... "ME ."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6760359685984367980?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6760359685984367980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6760359685984367980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6760359685984367980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6760359685984367980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-parents-drink.html' title='Why Parents Drink'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5900521322245627103</id><published>2009-05-18T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T09:18:32.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Government'/><title type='text'>Why America is in Trouble</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A DC airport ticket agent offers some examples of why the U.S.A. is in trouble! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I had a New Hampshire Congresswoman ask for an aisle seat so that her hair wouldn't get messed up by being near the window. (On an airplane!) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got a call from a candidate's staffer, who wanted to go to Capetown. I started to explain the length of the flight and the passport information, and then she interrupted me with, ''I'm not trying to make you look stupid, but Capetown is in Massachusetts.'' Without trying to make her look stupid, I calmly explained, ''Cape Cod is in Massachusetts, Capetown is in Africa.'' Her response - click. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A senior Vermont Congressman called, furious about a Florida package we did. I asked what was wrong with the vacation in Orlando. He said he was expecting an ocean-view room. I tried to explain that's not possible, since Orlando is in the middle of the state. He replied, 'don't lie to me, I looked on the map and Florida is a very thin state!'' (OMG) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got a call from a lawmaker's wife who asked, ''Is it possible to see England from Canada?'' I said, ''No.'' She said, ''But they look so close on the map.'' (OMG, again!) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An aide for a cabinet member once called and asked if he could rent a car in Dallas. When I pulled up the reservation, I noticed he had only a 1-hour layover in Dallas .. When I asked him why he wanted to rent a car, he said, 'I heard Dallas was a big airport, and we will need a car to drive between gates to save time.'' (Aghhhh) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An Illinois Congresswoman called last week. She needed to know how it was possible that her flight from Detroit left at 8:30 a.m., and got to Chicago at 8:33 a.m. I explained that Michigan was an hour ahead of Illinois , but she couldn't understand the concept of time zones. Finally, I told her the plane went fast, and she bought that. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A New York lawmaker called and asked, ''Do airlines put your physical description on your bag so they know whose luggage belongs to whom?'' I said, ''No, why do you ask?'' She replied, ''Well, when I checked in with the airline, they put a tag on my luggage that said (FAT), and I'm overweight. I think that's very rude!'' After putting her on hold for a minute, while I looked into it. (I was dying laughing). I came back and explained the city code for Fresno, CA is (FAT - Fresno Air Terminal), and the airline was just putting a destination tag on her luggage. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Senator's aide called to inquire about a trip package to Hawaii. After going over all the cost info, she asked, ''Would it be cheaper to fly to California , and then take the train to Hawaii ?'' &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I just got off the phone with a freshman Congressman who asked, ''How do I know which plane to get on?'' I asked him what exactly he meant, to which he replied, 'I was told my flight number is 823, but none of these planes have numbers on them.'' &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A lady Senator called and said, 'I need to fly to Pepsi-Cola, Florida .. Do I have to get on one of those little computer planes?'' I asked if she meant fly to Pensacola , FL on a commuter plane. She said, ''Yeah, whatever, smarty!'' &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A senior Senator called and had a question about the documents he needed in order to fly to China . After a lengthy discussion about passports, I reminded him that he needed a visa. 'Oh, no I don't. I've been to China many times and never had to have one of those.'' I double checked and sure enough, his stay required a visa. When I told him this he said, ''Look, I've been to China four times, and every time they have accepted my American Express!'' &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A New Mexico Congress woman called to make reservations, 'I want to go from Chicago to Rhino, New York ..'' I was at a loss for words.   Finally, I said, ''Are you sure that's the name of the town?''   'Yes, what flights do you have?'' replied the lady. After some searching, I came back with, ''I'm sorry, ma'am, I've looked up every airport code in the country and can't find a rhino anywhere.'' ''The lady retorted, ''Oh, don't be silly! Everyone knows where it is. Check your map!'' So I scoured a map of the state of New York and finally offered, ''You don't mean Buffalo, do you?'' The reply? ''Whatever! I knew it was a big animal.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now you know why the Government is in the shape that it's in! Could anyone be this DUMB?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES, THEY WALK AMONG US, ARE IN POLITICS, AND THEY CONTINUE TO BREED&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5900521322245627103?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5900521322245627103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5900521322245627103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5900521322245627103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5900521322245627103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-america-is-in-trouble.html' title='Why America is in Trouble'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4546254063972288566</id><published>2009-03-24T14:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T14:13:32.789-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><title type='text'>And then the fight started...</title><content type='html'>My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels. She asked, 'What's on TV?'  I said, 'Dust.'  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, "I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds."  So, I bought her a scale. And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s6Cu32Fga4k/SUvCjs78DII/AAAAAAAAEBY/X26csj8L704/s1600-h/cute-couple-with-no-other-friends_500x281.jpg" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s6Cu32Fga4k/SUvCjs78DII/AAAAAAAAEBY/X26csj8L704/s1600-h/cute-couple-with-no-other-friends_500x281.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.  My wife asked, "Do you know her?" "Yes," I sighed, "She's my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn't been sober since." "My God!" says my wife, "who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman is standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, "I feel horrible. I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment."  The husband replies, "You still have good eyesight."  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to talk my wife into buying a case of Miller Light for $14.95.  Instead, she bought a jar of cold cream for $7.95.  I told her the beer would make her look better at night than the cold cream.  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies. Suddenly, at 3 o'clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside.  The woman, bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man "Holy crap. That must be my husband!"  So the man jumped out of the bed; scared and naked jumped out the window. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and to his car as fast as he could go.  A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, "I AM your husband!"  The woman yelled back, "Yeah, then why were you running?"  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage.  I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.   The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.  I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.  I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."  My loving wife of 10 years replied, "Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?"  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s6Cu32Fga4k/SUvCjOMoKhI/AAAAAAAAEBI/S91LHOKpI_w/s1600-h/Couple+bare.jpg" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s6Cu32Fga4k/SUvCjOMoKhI/AAAAAAAAEBI/S91LHOKpI_w/s1600-h/Couple+bare.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I are watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed.  I turned to her and said, "Do you want to have sex?" "No," she answered.  I then said, "Is that your final answer?"  She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying "Yes."  So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend."  And then the fight started ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.  "I'll have the strip steak, medium rare, please."  He said, "Aren't you worried about the mad cow?"  "Nah, she can order for herself."  And then the fight started ...&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/464102537727013616-4546254063972288566?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4546254063972288566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4546254063972288566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4546254063972288566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4546254063972288566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-then-fight-started.html' title='And then the fight started...'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6247454711231315196</id><published>2009-03-24T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T14:01:09.904-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comebacks'/><title type='text'>The Best Smart Ass Answers</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was mealtime during an airline flight. 'Would you like dinner?' the flight attendant asked John, seated in front. 'What are my choices?' John asked. 'Yes or no,' she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A flight attendant was stationed at the departure gate to check tickets. As a man approached, she extended her hand for the ticket and he opened his trench coat and flashed her. Without missing a beat, she said, 'Sir, I need to see your ticket, not your stub.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store but she couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, ' Do these turkeys get any bigger?' The stock boy replied, 'No ma'am, they're dead.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police officer got out of his car as the kid who was stopped for speeding rolled down his window. 'I've been waiting for you all day,' the officer said.&lt;br /&gt;The kid replied, Yeah, well I got here as fast as I could.' When the cop finally stopped laughing, he sent the kid on his way without a ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A truck driver was driving along on the freeway and noticed a sign that read: Low Bridge Ahead. Before he knows it, the bridge is right in front of him and his truck gets wedged under it. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walks to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, 'Got stuck, huh?'&lt;br /&gt;The truck driver says, 'No, I was delivering this bridge and I ran out of gas.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SMART ASS ANSWER #1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrow's final exam. 'Now class, I won't tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury, illness, or a death in your immediate family, but that's it, no other excuses whatsoever!' A smart-ass student in the back of the room raised his hand and asked, 'What would you say if tomorrow I said I was suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?' The entire class is reduced to laughter and snickering. When silence was restored, the teacher smiled knowingly at the student, shook her head and sweetly said, 'Well, I guess you'd have to write the exam with your other hand.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A BONUS EXTRA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman is standing nude looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, 'I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment.' The husband replies, 'Your eyesight's damn near perfectʼ.&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/464102537727013616-6247454711231315196?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6247454711231315196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6247454711231315196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6247454711231315196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6247454711231315196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/best-smart-ass-answers.html' title='The Best Smart Ass Answers'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5342231752392904341</id><published>2009-03-24T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:53:56.039-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><title type='text'>After 40+ Years of Marriage</title><content type='html'>After 47 years of marriage, a couple was lying in bed one evening, when the wife felt her husband begin to touch her in ways he hadn't in quite some time. It almost tickled as his fingers started at her neck, and then began down passed the small of her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then slid his hand across her shoulders and neck, slowly worked it down over one breast, then the other, stopping just over her lower stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then proceeded to place his hand on her left inner arm, caressed passed the side of her breast again, working down her side, passed gently over and then in between her buttock and down her leg to her calf. Then, he proceeded up her inner thigh, stopping just at the uppermost portion of her leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He continued in the same manner on her right side, then suddenly stopped, rolled over and became silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she had become quite aroused by this caressing, she asked in a loving voice, 'That was wonderful. Why did you stop?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I found the remote," he said.&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/464102537727013616-5342231752392904341?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5342231752392904341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5342231752392904341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5342231752392904341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5342231752392904341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/after-40-years-of-marriage.html' title='After 40+ Years of Marriage'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7660535443948597215</id><published>2009-03-24T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:48:25.232-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Embarrassing Moments'/><title type='text'>The Fart</title><content type='html'>A little boy blows up a balloon and starts flicking it all around the house with his finger. His mother tells him to stop it as he's liable to break something, but the boy continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Johnny!" Mom screams. "Knock it off." You're going to break something. He stops and eventually, Mom leaves for a short trip to the shopping center. Johnny starts up with the balloon again after his mom has left for the store. He gives it one last flick and it lands in the toilet where he leaves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom comes in and while putting away the groceries gets the urge ... and it's one of those diarrhea runs. She can hardly make it to the toilet in time when SPLASH, out it comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she's finished, she looks down and can't believe what she's seeing. She's not sure what this big brown thing is in the toilet! She calls her doctor. The doctor is baffled as she describes the situation, but he assures her he'll be over shortly to examine everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrives she leads him to the bathroom and he gets down on his knees and takes a long, hard look at the thing. Finally, he takes out his pen and sort of touches it to see what it might be and POP! ... the balloon explodes and poop is everywhere. On him, the walls, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Doctor! Doctor! Are you all right?" she asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says, "I've been in this business for over 30 years, and I just can't believe it ... this is the first time I've ever actually seen a fart!"&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/464102537727013616-7660535443948597215?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7660535443948597215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7660535443948597215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7660535443948597215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7660535443948597215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/fart.html' title='The Fart'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-596794678303070851</id><published>2009-03-24T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:41:09.118-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawyers'/><title type='text'>Help ... My Son's Choking</title><content type='html'>A father walks into a restaurant with his young son. He gives the young boy three  nickels to play with to keep him occupied.  Suddenly, the boy starts  choking, going blue in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father realizes the boy  has swallowed the nickels and starts slapping him on the back. The  boy coughs up two of the nickels, but keeps choking. Looking at his son,  the father is panicking, shouting for  help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A well dressed, attractive, and serious looking woman, in a blue business suit is sitting at a coffee bar reading a  newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.  At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, neatly folds the  newspaper and places it on the counter, gets up from her seat and makes  her way, unhurried, across the  restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the boy's testicles and starts to  squeeze and twist, gently at first and then ever so firmly. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the last nickel, which  the woman deftly catches in her free  hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Releasing the boy's testicles, the woman hands  the nickel to the father and walks back to her seat in the coffee bar  without saying a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the father rushes over to the woman and  starts thanking her saying, "I've never seen anybody do anything like that  before; it was fantastic. Are you a  doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the woman replied.  "Divorce  attorney."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="MARGIN-TOP: 10px; HEIGHT: 15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" title="Zemified by Zemanta" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/2ce0956c-e41d-498c-9372-a525d5221a2a/"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; FLOAT: right; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=2ce0956c-e41d-498c-9372-a525d5221a2a" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zem-script more-related"&gt;&lt;script src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-596794678303070851?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/596794678303070851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=596794678303070851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/596794678303070851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/596794678303070851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/help-my-sons-choking.html' title='Help ... My Son&apos;s Choking'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3653985866306588466</id><published>2009-03-24T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:38:15.273-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunks'/><title type='text'>Gotta Pee</title><content type='html'>Two women friends had gone for a girl's night out.B oth were very faithful and loving wives, however, they had gotten over-enthusiastic on the Bacardi Breezers. Incredibly drunk and walking home they needed to Pee, so they stopped in the cemetery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them had nothing to wipe with so she thought she would take off her panties and use them. Her friend, however, was wearing a rather expensive pair of panties and did not want to ruin them. She was lucky enough to squat down next to a grave that had a wreath with a ribbon on it, so she proceeded to wipe with that.  After the girls did their business they proceeded to go home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day one of the woman's husband was concerned that his normally sweet and innocent wife was still in bed hung over, so he phoned the other husband and said:  ' These girl nights out have got to stop! I'm starting to suspect the worst. My wife came home last night with no panties!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''That's nothing' said the other husband, 'Mine came back with a card stuck to her ass that said  ...  'From all of us at the Fire Station. We'll never forget you.''&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3653985866306588466?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3653985866306588466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3653985866306588466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3653985866306588466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3653985866306588466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/gotta-pee.html' title='Gotta Pee'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3237825185551214307</id><published>2009-03-24T13:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:33:40.890-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunks'/><title type='text'>Drunk in the Bathroom</title><content type='html'>A drunk gets up from the bar and heads for the bathroom. A few minutes later, a loud, blood curdling scream is heard from the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes after that, another loud scream reverberates through the bar. The bartender goes into the bathroom to investigate why the drunk is screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What's all the screaming about in there? You're scaring  the customers!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I'm just sitting here on the toilet and every time I try to flush, something comes up and squeezes the hell out of my testicles.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, the bartender opens the door, looks in and says 'You idiot! ....You're sitting on the mop bucket'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3237825185551214307?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3237825185551214307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3237825185551214307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3237825185551214307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3237825185551214307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/drunk-in-bathroom.html' title='Drunk in the Bathroom'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3994837999711835048</id><published>2009-03-24T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:29:29.356-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>Nine Words Women Use</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fine&lt;/strong&gt;: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five Minutes&lt;/strong&gt;: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nothing&lt;/strong&gt;: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Go Ahead&lt;/strong&gt;: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Loud Sigh&lt;/strong&gt;: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That's Okay&lt;/strong&gt;: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thanks&lt;/strong&gt;: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' ... that will bring on a 'whatever').&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whatever&lt;/strong&gt;: Is a woman's way of saying F-- YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Don't worry about it, I got it&lt;/strong&gt;: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3994837999711835048?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3994837999711835048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3994837999711835048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3994837999711835048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3994837999711835048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/nine-words-women-use.html' title='Nine Words Women Use'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2937470970589708696</id><published>2009-03-24T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:22:25.175-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>Where's My Paper!!!</title><content type='html'>For all of us who are seniors - for all of you who know seniors - and for all of you who will be seniors. It pays to be able to laugh about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, speaking of senior moments:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHERE is my SUNDAY paper?!" The irate customer calling the newspaper office loudly demanded, wanting to know where her Sunday edition was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Madam", said the newspaper employee, "today is Saturday. The Sunday paper is not delivered until tomorrow, on SUNDAY".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was quite a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a ray of recognition as she was heard to mutter, "well, s**t, so that's why no one was at church today".&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/464102537727013616-2937470970589708696?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2937470970589708696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2937470970589708696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2937470970589708696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2937470970589708696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/wheres-my-paper.html' title='Where&apos;s My Paper!!!'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3939965196080024763</id><published>2009-03-24T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T13:00:50.658-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Can't Go to Starbucks Any More</title><content type='html'>A woman of advancing age visited her physician to ask his advise in reviving her husband's libido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What about trying Viagra?', asked the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Not a chance', she said. 'He won't even take an aspirin.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Not a problem,' replied the doctor. 'Give him an 'Irish Viagra'. It's when you drop the Viagra tablet into his coffee. He won't even taste it. Give it a try and call me in a week to let me know how things went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't a week later when she called the doctor, who directly inquired as to her success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poor dear exclaimed, 'Oh my, it was horrid! Just terrible, doctor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Really? What happened?', asked the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Well, I did as you advised and slipped it in his coffee and the effect was almost immediate. He jumped straight up with a twinkle in his eye and with his pants bulging fiercely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With one swoop of his arm, he sent the cups and tablecloth flying, ripped my clothes to ta! tters and took me then and there passionately on the tabletop! It was a nightmare, I tell you, an absolute nightmare!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Why so terrible?' asked the doctor, 'Do you mean the experience your husband was now able to provide wasn't good?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'NO, it was the best we've had in 25 years! But sure as I'm sitting here, I'll never be able to show me face in that Starbucks again!'&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/464102537727013616-3939965196080024763?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3939965196080024763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3939965196080024763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3939965196080024763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3939965196080024763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/cant-go-to-starbucks-any-more.html' title='Can&apos;t Go to Starbucks Any More'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1370655504217916627</id><published>2009-03-24T12:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:46:32.324-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>Elderly Road Trip</title><content type='html'>While on a road trip, an elderly couple stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch. After finishing their meal, they left the restaurant, and resumed their trip.  When leaving, the elderly woman unknowingly left her glasses on the table, and she didn't miss them until they had been driving about forty minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By then, to add to the aggravation, they had to travel quite a distance before they could find a place to turn around, in order to return to the restaurant to retrieve her glasses. All the way back, the elderly husband became the classic grouchy old man. He fussed and complained, and scolded his wife relentlessly during the entire return drive.  The more he chided her, the more agitated he became.  He just wouldn't let up one minute.  To her relief, they finally arrived at the restaurant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the woman got out of the car, and hurried inside to retrieve her glasses, the old geezer yelled to her, 'While you're in there, you might as well get my hat and the credit card.'&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/464102537727013616-1370655504217916627?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1370655504217916627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1370655504217916627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1370655504217916627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1370655504217916627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/elderly-road-trip.html' title='Elderly Road Trip'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-31593289212336556</id><published>2009-03-24T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:40:00.896-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redneck'/><title type='text'>Country foks look at things a little different...</title><content type='html'>A rancher got in his pickup and drove to a neighboring ranch and knocked at the door. A young boy, about 9, opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is yer Dad home?" the rancher asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No,sir, he ain't," the boy replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He went into town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the rancher, "is yer Mom here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, sir, she ain't here neither. She went into town with Dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He went with Mom and Dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rancher stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there anything I can do fer ya?' the boy asked politely. "I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one. Or maybe I could take a message fer Dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the rancher uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to yer Dad. It's about your brother Howard getting my daughter pregnant."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy considered for a moment. "You would have to talk to Pa about that," he finally conceded. "If it helps you any, I know that Pa charges $500 for the bull and $50 for the hog, but I really don't know how much he gets fer Howard."&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/464102537727013616-31593289212336556?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/31593289212336556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=31593289212336556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/31593289212336556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/31593289212336556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-youre-from-country-you-look-at.html' title='Country foks look at things a little different...'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8876154650849367633</id><published>2009-03-24T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:35:48.923-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>One-Liners</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Ah, yes, divorce, from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man's genitals through his wallet" .... Robin Williams'&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"You know 'that look' women get when they want sex?  Yeah ... me neither" ... Steve Martin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Having sex is like playing bridge.  If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand" ... Woody Allen&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night" ... Rodney Dangerfield&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Sex at 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope" ... George Burns&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Women might be able to fake orgasms, but men can fake whole relationships" ... Sharon Stone&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"My girlfriend always laughs during sex --- no mater what she's reading"  ... Steve Jobs (Founder, Apple Computers)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch" ... Jack Nicholson&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Clinton lied!  A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is" ... Barbara Bush (Former US First Lady ... and you didn't think Barbara had a sense of humor)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Women complain about premenstrual syndrome, but I think of it as the only time of the month that I can be myself"  ...  Roseanne&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Women need to have a reason to have sex.  Men just need a place"  ...  Billy Crystal&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"According to a new survey, women say the feel more comfortable undressing in front of men that the do undressing in front of other women.  They say women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful"  ...  Robert De Niro&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Instead of getting married again, I'm going to find a woman I don't like and just give her a house"  ...  Rod Stewart&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"See, the problem is that God gives men a brain and a penis, and only enough brood to run one at a time" ... Robin Williams&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8876154650849367633?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8876154650849367633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8876154650849367633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8876154650849367633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8876154650849367633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-liners.html' title='One-Liners'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8986233807180083483</id><published>2009-03-24T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:21:32.191-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunks'/><title type='text'>Montana State Trooper</title><content type='html'>In most of the United States, there is a policy of checking on any stalled vehicle on the highway when temperatures drop to single digits or below. About 3 AM one very cold morning, Montana State Trooper Allan Nixon(#658) responded to a call that there was a car off the shoulder of the road outside Great Falls, Montana. He located the car, stuck in deep snow and with the engine still running. Pulling in behind the car with his emergency lights on, the trooper walked to the driver's door to find an older man passed out behind the wheel with a nearly empty vodka bottle on the seat beside him. The driver came awake when the trooper tapped on the window. Seeing the rotating lights in his rear view mirror and the state trooper standing next to his car, the man panicked. He jerked the gearshift into drive and hit the gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car's speedometer was showing 20-20-40 and then 50 MPH, but it was still stuck in the snow, wheels spinning. Trooper Nixon, having a sense of humor, began running in place next to the speeding (but stationary) car. The drier was totally freaked, thinking the trooper was actually keeping up with him. This goes on for about 30 seconds, then the trooper yelled, "PULL OVER."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man nodded, turned his wheel and stopped the engine. Needless to say, the man from North Dakota was arrested and is probably still shaking his head over the state trooper in Montana who could run 50 miles per hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says troopers don't have a sense of humor?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8986233807180083483?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8986233807180083483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8986233807180083483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8986233807180083483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8986233807180083483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/montana-state-trooper.html' title='Montana State Trooper'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8748427944239319614</id><published>2009-03-24T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:11:44.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>Keepin' the Old Motor Runnin'</title><content type='html'>The marriage of an 80 year old man and a 20 year old woman was the talk of the town. After being married a year, the couple went to the hospital for the birth of their first child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attending nurse came out of the delivery room to congratulate the old gentleman and said, "This is amazing. How do you do it at your age?" The old man grinned and said, "You got to keep the old motor running." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following year, the couple returned to the hospital for the birth of their second child. The same nurse was attending the delivery and again went out to congratulate the old gentleman. She said, "Sir, you are something else. How do you manage it ?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man grinned and said, "You gotta keep the old motor running." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year later, the couple returned to the hospital for the birth of their third child. The same nurse was there for this birth also and, after the delivery, she once again approached the old gentleman, smiled, and said, "Well, you surely are something else! How do you do it?" The old man replied, "It's like I've told you before, you gotta keep the old motor running." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse, still smiling, patted him on the back and said: Well, I guess it's time to change the oil. This one's black!&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/464102537727013616-8748427944239319614?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8748427944239319614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8748427944239319614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8748427944239319614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8748427944239319614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/keepin-old-motor-runnin.html' title='Keepin&apos; the Old Motor Runnin&apos;'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5295629400399564474</id><published>2009-03-24T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T12:08:38.461-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>Subject: Letter from Management</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Dear Employees, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown of economy, Management has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 40 years of age and above on early retirement. This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retire Aged People Early). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Persons selected to be RAPED can apply to management to be eligible for the SHAFT scheme (Special Help After Forced Termination). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Persons who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will be reviewed under the SCREW program (Scheme Covering Retired Early Workers). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A person may be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice and SCREWED as many times as Management deems appropriate. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Persons who have been RAPED can only get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependants &amp;amp; Spouse) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Obviously persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTED or SCREWED any further by Management. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Persons who are not RAPED and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. Management has always prided itself on the amount of SHIT it gives employees. Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring to the attention of your Supervisor. They have been trained to give you all the SHIT you can handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Management&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5295629400399564474?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5295629400399564474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5295629400399564474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5295629400399564474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5295629400399564474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/subject-letter-from-management.html' title='Subject: Letter from Management'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-198811805640499711</id><published>2009-03-24T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T11:59:48.260-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>The Bailout Mascot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/ScktIAVq5yI/AAAAAAAAAG0/XNtERI6eF3o/s1600-h/GovtLogo.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316830450640676642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 166px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 158px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/ScktIAVq5yI/AAAAAAAAAG0/XNtERI6eF3o/s320/GovtLogo.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The government, today, announced that it is changing its national symbol to that of a CONDOM because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance.  A condom allows for inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives you a sense of security while you're being screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, it just doesn't get more accurate than that!&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/464102537727013616-198811805640499711?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/198811805640499711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=198811805640499711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/198811805640499711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/198811805640499711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/bailout-mascot.html' title='The Bailout Mascot'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/ScktIAVq5yI/AAAAAAAAAG0/XNtERI6eF3o/s72-c/GovtLogo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1616227958323739756</id><published>2009-03-24T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:23:10.208-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>In Training</title><content type='html'>An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand pulling a male buffalo with the other. He says to the waiter: "Want coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter says, "Sure, Chief. Coming right up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee. The Indian drinks the coffee down in one gulp, turns and blasts the buffalo with the shotgun, causing parts of the animal to splatter everywhere and then just walks out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning the Indian returns. He has his shotgun in one hand, pulling another male buffalo with the other. He walks up to the counter and says to the waiter: "Want coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter says "Whoa, Tonto!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still cleaning up your mess from yesterday. What was all that about, anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian smiles and proudly says ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Training for position in United States Congress ... Come in, drink coffee, shoot the bull, leave mess for others to clean up, disappear for rest of day."&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/464102537727013616-1616227958323739756?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1616227958323739756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1616227958323739756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1616227958323739756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1616227958323739756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-training.html' title='In Training'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8643308174763864231</id><published>2009-03-24T11:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:23:10.209-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>Welcome to the Republican Party</title><content type='html'>I was talking to the 8 year-old daughter of a friend of mine, and she said she  wanted to be President some day.  Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, "If you were President what's the first thing you would do?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, "I'd give food and houses to all the homeless people."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow - what a worthy goal," I told her.  "But you don't have to wait until you're President to do that.  You can come over to my house and mow the grass, pull weeds, and rake my yard, and I'll pay you $50.  Then I'll  take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward food or a new house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought that over for a few seconds, 'cause after all she's only 8.  And while her Mom glared at me, she looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and do the work himself, and you can just pay him the $50?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I said, "Welcome to the Republican Party."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her folks still do not talk to me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8643308174763864231?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8643308174763864231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8643308174763864231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8643308174763864231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8643308174763864231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/welcome-to-republican-party.html' title='Welcome to the Republican Party'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8997054358799609893</id><published>2009-03-17T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T14:55:37.030-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>The Ear Infection</title><content type='html'>This is so true! They always ask at the doctor's office why you're there, and you have to answer in front of others what's wrong -- and sometimes it's down right embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all, there's nothing worse than a doctor's receptionist who insists you tell her what is wrong with you in a room full of other patients. I know most of us have experienced this, but I truly love the way this one old guy handled it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A 65-year-old man walked into a crowded waiting room and approached the desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist said, "Yes, sir, and why do you need to see the doctor today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied, "There's something wrong with my dick."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist became irritated and said, "You shouldn't come into a crowded waiting room and say things like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not? You asked me what was wrong, and I told you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist replied, "Well, you've caused some embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear and then discussed the problem further with the doctor in private."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You shouldn't ask people questions in a room full of strangers if the answer could embarrass anyone," the man said. Then he walked out and waited several minutes before re-entering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist smiled smugly and said, "Yes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's something wrong with my ear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist nodded approvingly and smiled, knowing he had taken her advice. "And what is wrong with your ear, sir?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't piss out of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiting room erupted in laughter.&lt;/blockquote&gt;The lesson:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mess with seniors, and you're going to lose.&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/464102537727013616-8997054358799609893?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8997054358799609893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8997054358799609893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8997054358799609893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8997054358799609893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/ear-infection.html' title='The Ear Infection'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4099989441708552266</id><published>2009-03-01T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T08:55:35.578-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stupidity Awards'/><title type='text'>Cancel You Credit Cards Before You Die</title><content type='html'>Now some people are really stupid!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure and cancel your credit cards before you die. This is so priceless, and so, so easy to see happening, customer service being what it is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her for February and March for their annual service charges on her credit card, and added late fees and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00 when she died, but now somewhere around $60.00. A family member placed a call to Citibank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the exchange :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'I am calling to tell you she died back in January.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Maybe, you should turn it over to collections.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Since it is two months past due, it already has been.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Either report her account to frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Do you think God will be mad at her?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Excuse me?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supervisor gets on the phone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'I'm calling to tell you, she died back in January with a $0 balance.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'The account was never closed and late fees and charges still apply.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'You mean you want to collect from her estate?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; (Stammer) 'Are you her lawyer?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'No, I'm her great nephew.' (Lawyer info was given)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Could you fax us a certificate of death?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Sure.' (Fax number was given)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they get the fax :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Our system just isn't setup for death. I don't know what more I can do to help.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. She won't care.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Well, the late fees and charges will still apply.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(What is wrong with these people?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Would you like her new billing address?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'That might help...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Citibank:&lt;/strong&gt; 'Sir, that's a cemetery!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Family Member:&lt;/strong&gt; 'And what do you do with dead people on your planet???'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4099989441708552266?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4099989441708552266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4099989441708552266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4099989441708552266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4099989441708552266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/cancel-you-credit-cards-before-you-die.html' title='Cancel You Credit Cards Before You Die'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8334959433355876789</id><published>2009-03-01T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T08:49:37.804-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><title type='text'>The Night Gown</title><content type='html'>A husband walks into Victoria Secret to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife. He is shown several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 in price -- the more sheer, the higher the price. Naturally, he opts for the most sheer item, pays the $500, and takes it home. He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on, and model it for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upstairs the wife thinks (she's no dummy), 'I have an idea. It's so sheer that it might as well be nothing. I won't put it on, but I'll do the modeling without my clothes on (he'll never know the difference), and I'll return it tomorrow, and keep the $500 refund for myself.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose. The husband says, 'Good Grief! You'd think for $500, they'd at least iron it!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never heard the shot. Funeral on Thursday at Noon. Closed coffin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8334959433355876789?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8334959433355876789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8334959433355876789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8334959433355876789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8334959433355876789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/night-gown_01.html' title='The Night Gown'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-745088961187065996</id><published>2009-03-01T08:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T08:43:00.811-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Animals'/><title type='text'>Chicken CPR</title><content type='html'>Woman on Jay Leno's show describes using CPR to revive chicken (watch Terry Bradshaw's reaction, it's priceless)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-4629842314544841906&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=true" style="width:400px;height:326px" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-745088961187065996?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/745088961187065996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=745088961187065996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/745088961187065996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/745088961187065996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2009/03/chicken-cpr.html' title='Chicken CPR'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3981592695061042100</id><published>2008-12-21T10:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T10:54:13.495-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>I'm Not Hungry</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A woman asks her husband, "Would you like some bacon and eggs? A slice of toast, and maybe some grapefruit and coffee?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He declines. "Thanks for asking, but I'm not hungry right now. It's this Viagra," he says. "It's really taken the edge off my appetite."   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At lunchtime she asked him if he would like something." A bowl of soup, homemade muffins, or a cheese sandwich?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He declines. "The Viagra," he says, "really trashes my desire for food."   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come dinnertime, she asks if he wants anything to eat. "Would you like a juicy rib eye steak and scrumptious apple pie? Or maybe a rotisserie chicken or tasty stir fry?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He declines again. "No," he says, "it's got to be the Viagra . . . I'm still not hungry."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well," she says, "Would you mind letting me up? I'm starving."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3981592695061042100?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3981592695061042100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3981592695061042100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3981592695061042100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3981592695061042100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-not-hungry.html' title='I&apos;m Not Hungry'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6607052260303573357</id><published>2008-12-21T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T10:23:03.779-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heaven and Hell'/><title type='text'>St. Peter's Gate</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It was getting a little crowded in Heaven, so God decided to change the admittance policy. The new law was that in order to get into Heaven, you had to have a really bad day on the day that you died. The policy would go into effect at noon the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the next day at 12:01 the first person came to the gates of Heaven. The Angel at the gate, remembering the new policy, promptly asked the man, 'Before I let you in, I need you to tell me how your day was going when you died.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No problem, the man said. 'I came home to my 25th-floor apartment on my lunch hour and caught my wife having an affair. But her lover was nowhere in sight. I immediately began searching for him. My wife was half naked and yelling at me as I searched the entire apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I was about to give up, I happened to glance out onto the balcony and noticed that there was a man hanging of f the edge by his fingertips! The nerve of that guy! Well, I ran out onto the balcony and stomped on his fingers until he fell to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wouldn't you know it, he landed in some trees and bushes that broke his fall and he didn't die. This ticked me off even more.In a rage, I went back inside to get the first heavy thing I could get my hands on to throw at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was the refrigerator. I unplugged it, pushed it out onto the balcony, and tipped it over the side. It plummeted 25 stories and crushed him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The excitement of the moment was so great that I had a heart attack and died almost instantly.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Angel sat back and thought a moment. Technically, the guy did have a bad day. It was a crime of passion. So, the Angel announced, 'OK, sir. Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven' and let him in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few seconds later the next guy came up. To the Angel's surprise, it was Donald Trump.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Trump, before I can let you in, I need to hear about what your day was like when you died.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trump said, 'No problem. But you're not going to believe this. I was on the balcony of my 26th floor apartment doing my daily exercises. I had been under a lot of pressure so I was really pushing hard to relieve my stress. I guess I got a little carried away, slipped, and accidentally fell over the side!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I was able to catch myself by the fingertips on the balcony below mine. But all of a sudden this crazy man comes running out of his apartment, starts cussing, and stomps on my fingers. Well, of course I fell. I hit some trees and bushes at the bottom, which broke my fall, so I didn't die right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm laying there face up on the ground , unable to move and in excruciating pain, I see this guy push his refrigerator, of all things, off the balcony. It falls the 25 floors and lands on top of me, killing me instantly.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Angel is quietly laughing to himself as Trump finishes his story.  'I could get used to this new policy,' he thinks to himself.  'Very well,' the Angel announces. 'Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven' and he lets Trump enter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few seconds later, Bill Clinton comes up to the gate. The Angel is almost too shocked to speak.&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts of assassination and war pour through the Angel's head. Finally he says, 'Mr. President, please tell me what it was like the day you died.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clinton says, 'OK, picture this. I'm naked, inside a refrigerator ...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6607052260303573357?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6607052260303573357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6607052260303573357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6607052260303573357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6607052260303573357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/st-peters-gate.html' title='St. Peter&apos;s Gate'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3116796888830348883</id><published>2008-12-21T10:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T10:07:11.792-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Males v. Females'/><title type='text'>How tall is a flagpole?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Two Texas mechanical engineers, Ray &amp;amp; Bubba, were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman walked by and asked what they were doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'We're supposed to find the height of the flagpole,' said Bubba,' but we don't have a ladder.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a few bolts, and laid the pole down. Then she took a tape measure from her pocket, took a measurement, announced, 'Eighteen feet, six inches,' and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ray shook his head and laughed. 'Ain't that just like a woman!  We ask for the height and she gives us the length!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba and Ray are currently working for the government.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3116796888830348883?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3116796888830348883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3116796888830348883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3116796888830348883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3116796888830348883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-tall-is-flagpole.html' title='How tall is a flagpole?'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5762444167020282351</id><published>2008-12-21T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T10:03:48.107-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>They'll be Home for Thanksgiving!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A man in Jacksonville calls his son in San Diego the day before Thanksgiving and says, 'I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Pop, what are you talking about?' the son screams. 'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the father says. 'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Denver and tell her.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone . 'Like heck they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.'  She calls Jacksonville immediately, and screams at her father, 'You are NOT getting divorced. Do not do a single thing until I get there.  I am calling my brother back, and we will both be there tomorrow.   Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?' and hangs up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife . 'Okay,' he says, 'they're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way.'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5762444167020282351?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5762444167020282351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5762444167020282351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5762444167020282351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5762444167020282351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/theyll-be-home-for-thanksgiving.html' title='They&apos;ll be Home for Thanksgiving!'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1677977369028678837</id><published>2008-12-21T08:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T08:04:50.705-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Embarrassing Moments'/><title type='text'>Engage Brain, then Your Mouth</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Have you ever spoken and wished that you could immediately take the words back ... or that you could crawl into a hole? Here are the Testimonials of a few people who did ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;I walked into a hair salon with my husband and three kids in tow and asked loudly, "How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around and walked back out and never went back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband didn't say a word. .. he knew better.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;SECOND TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;I was at the golf store comparing different kinds of golf balls. I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using. After browsing for several minutes, I was approached by one of the good-looking gentlemen who works at the store. He asked if he could help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like playing with men's balls"&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;THIRD TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I were at the mall and passed by a store that sold a variety of candy and nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were looking at the display case, the boy behind the counter asked if we needed any help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your nuts." My sister started to laugh hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy grinned, and I turned beet-red and walked away. To this day, my sister has never let me forget.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;FOURTH TESTIMONY :&lt;br /&gt;While in line at the bank one afternoon, my toddler decided to release some pent-up energy and ran amok. I was finally able to grab hold of her after receiving looks of disgust and annoyance from other patrons. I told her that if she did not start behaving "right now" she would be punished.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To my horror, she looked me in the eye and said in a voice just as threatening, "If you don't let me go right now, I will tell Grandma that I saw you kissing Daddy's pee-pee last night!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silence was deafening after this enlightening exchange. Even the tellers stopped what they were doing. I mustered up the last of my dignity and walked out of the bank with my daughter in tow. The last thing I heard when the door closed behind me, were screams of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;FIFTH TESTIMONY: Have you ever ! asked your child a question too many times? My three-year-old son had a lot of problems with potty training and I was on him constantly.One day we stopped at Taco Bell for a quick lunch, in between errands It was very busy, with a full dining room. While enjoying my taco, I smelled something funny, so of course I checkedmy seven-month-old daughter, she was clean. Then realized that Danny had not asked to go potty in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he needed to go, and he said "No". I kept thinking, "Oh Lord, that child has had an accident, and I don't have any clothes with me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I said,"Danny, are you SURE you didn't have an accident?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," he replied.I just KNEW that he must have had an accident, because the smell was getting worse. Soooooo, I asked one more time, "Danny did you have an accident ? This time he jumped up, yanked down his pants, bent over, spread his cheeks and yelled "SEE MOM, IT'S JUST FARTS!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While 30 people nearly choked to death on their tacos laughing, he calmly pulled up his pants and sat down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old couple made me feel better,thanking me for the best laugh they'd ever had! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;LAST BUT NOT LEAST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;This had most of the state of Michigan laughing for 2 days and a very embarrassed female news anchor who will, in the future, likely think before she speaks. What happens when you predict snow but don't get any!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a female news anchor that, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman and asked: "So Bob, where's that 8 inches you promised me last night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too they were laughing so hard!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1677977369028678837?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1677977369028678837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1677977369028678837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1677977369028678837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1677977369028678837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/engage-brain-then-your-mouth.html' title='Engage Brain, then Your Mouth'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-3068078049695374025</id><published>2008-12-21T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T07:47:28.000-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redneck'/><title type='text'>Front of the Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A redneck from Kansas decides to travel across the south to Florida to see God's country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he gets to Fort Myers, he likes the place so much that he decides to stay. But first he must find a job!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walks into the international paper company office and fills out an application as an experienced log inspector. It's his lucky day!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They just happen to be looking for someone, but first, the log foreman takes him for a ride into the forest in the company pickup truck to see how much he knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman stops the truck on the side of the road and points at a tree. "See that tree over there? I want you to tell me what species it is and how many board feet of lumber it contains"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The redneck promptly answers, "That thar's a white pine, 383 board feet of lumber in 'er."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman is impressed!!! He puts the truck in motion and stops about a mile down the road. He points at another tree through the passenger window and asks the same question. This time, it's a bigger tree of a different class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"that's a loblolly pine and she's got about 456 clear board feet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman is really impressed with the good ol' boy, he has been quick and got the answers right without using a calculator!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more test. They drive a little further down the road, and the foreman stops again. This time, he points across the road through his driver side window and says, "And what about that one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the foreman finishes pointing, the redneck says, "White oak, 242 board feet at best."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman spins the truck around and heads back to the office a little&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ticked off because he thinks the red neck is smarter than he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they near the office, the foreman stops the truck and asks bubba to step outside. He hands him a piece of chalk and tells him, "See that tree over there?" "I want you to mark an Xx on the front of that tree!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman thinks to himself, "Idiot, how would he know which is the front of the tree?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When bubba reaches the tree, he goes around it in a circle while looking at the ground. He then reaches up and places a white x on the trunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walks back to the foreman and hands him the chalk. "That thar's the front," the redneck says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman laughs to himself and asks sarcastically, "How in the hell do you know that's the front of the tree?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good ol' boy looks down at his feet, while rubbing the toe of his left boot cleaning it in the gravel and replies, "Cuz somebody took a shit behind it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got the job and is now the foreman!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-3068078049695374025?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/3068078049695374025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=3068078049695374025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3068078049695374025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/3068078049695374025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/front-of-tree.html' title='Front of the Tree'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7249119170939137069</id><published>2008-12-21T07:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T07:42:04.813-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Getting Older'/><title type='text'>Shoplifting</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This 80 year old woman was arrested for shop lifting. When she went before the judge he asked her,   'What did you steal?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, 'A can of peaches.'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The judge then asked her why she had stolen the can of peaches and she replied that she was hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The judge then asked her how many peaches were in the can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The judge then said, 'I will then give you 6 days in jail.'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the judge could actually pronounce the punishment, the woman's husband spoke up and asked the judge if he could say something. The judge said, 'What is it?'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband said, 'She also stole a can of peas.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7249119170939137069?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7249119170939137069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7249119170939137069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7249119170939137069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7249119170939137069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/shoplifting.html' title='Shoplifting'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7235839538923124579</id><published>2008-12-21T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T07:32:35.782-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><title type='text'>Walking the Dog</title><content type='html'>A woman was flying from Seattle to San Francisco . Unexpectedly, the plane was diverted to Sacramento along the way. The flight attendant explained that there would be a delay, and if the passengers wanted to get off the aircraft the plane would re-board in 50 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody got off the plane except one lady who was blind. The man had noticed her as he walked by and could tell the lady was blind because her seeing-eye dog lay quietly underneath the seats in front of her throughout the entire flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could also tell she had flown this very flight before because the pilot approached her, and calling her by name, said, 'Kathy, we are in Sacramento for almost an hour. Would you like to get off and stretch your legs?'The blind lady said, 'No thanks, but maybe Buddy would like to stretch his legs.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SU5hMUg4BdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/__QibDLWcvw/s1600-h/WalkTheDog.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282266277245093330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 153px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SU5hMUg4BdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/__QibDLWcvw/s320/WalkTheDog.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture this: All the people in the gate area came to a complete standstill when they looked up and saw the pilot walk off the plane with a seeing-eye dog! The pilot was even wearing sunglasses. People scattered. They not only tried to change planes, but they were trying to change airlines!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7235839538923124579?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7235839538923124579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7235839538923124579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7235839538923124579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7235839538923124579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/walking-dog.html' title='Walking the Dog'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SU5hMUg4BdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/__QibDLWcvw/s72-c/WalkTheDog.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4762158476583866931</id><published>2008-12-21T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T07:27:55.206-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blondes'/><title type='text'>Sick Leave</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I urgently needed a few days off work, But, I knew the Boss would not allow me to take leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that maybe if I acted "Crazy" then he would tell me to take a few days off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I hung upside-down on the ceiling and made funny noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My co-worker (who's blonde) asked me what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her that I was pretending to be a light bulb, so that the  Boss might think I was ! "Crazy" and give me a few days off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the Boss came into the office and asked, "What  in the name of good GOD are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I was a light bulb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "You are clearly stressed out.  Go home and recuperate for  a couple of days."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped down and walked out of the office...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my co-worker (the blonde) followed me, the Boss asked her, "And where do you think you're going?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "I'm going home too. I can"t work in the dark."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4762158476583866931?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4762158476583866931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4762158476583866931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4762158476583866931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4762158476583866931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/sick-leave.html' title='Sick Leave'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-1984272065603697731</id><published>2008-12-21T06:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T06:37:06.521-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Kids in Church</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;3-year-old Reece : 'Our Father, Who does art in heaven, Harold is His name. Amen.'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A little boy was overheard praying: 'Lord, if you can't make me a better boy, don't worry about it. I'm having a real good time like I am.'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;After the christening of his baby brother in church, Jason sobbed all the way home in the back seat of the car. His father asked him three times what was wrong. Finally, the boy replied, 'That preacher said he wanted us brought up in a Christian home, And I wanted to stay with you guys.'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;One particular four-year-old prayed, 'And forgive us our trash baskets as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A Sunday school teacher asked her children as they were on the way to church service, 'And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?' One bright little girl replied, 'Because people are sleeping.'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin 5, and Ryan 3. The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake. Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson. 'If Jesus were sitting here, He would say, 'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.' Kevin turned to his younger brother and said, 'Ryan, you be Jesus!'&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A father was at the beach with his children when the four-year-old son ran up to him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the shore where a seagull lay dead in the sand. 'Daddy, what happened to him?' the son asked. 'He died and went to Heaven,' the Dad replied. The boy thought a moment and then said, 'Did God throw him back down? &lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A wife invited some people to dinner. At the table, she turned to their six-year-old daughter and said, 'Would you like to say the blessing?' 'I wouldn't know what to say ,' the girl replied. 'Just say what you hear Mommy say,' the wife answered. The daughter bowed her head and said, 'Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-1984272065603697731?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/1984272065603697731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=1984272065603697731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1984272065603697731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/1984272065603697731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/kids-in-church.html' title='Kids in Church'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7647613787790866655</id><published>2008-12-21T06:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T06:20:24.967-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Mrs. Donovan</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Mrs. Donovan was walking down O'Connell Street in Dublin when she met up with Father Flaherty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Father said, 'Top o' the mornin' to ye!  Aren't ye Mrs. Donovan and didn't I marry ye and yer hoosband 2 years ago?'  She replied, 'Aye, that ye did, Father.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Father asked, 'And be there any wee little ones yet?' She replied, 'No, not yet, Father.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Father said, 'Well now, I'm going to Rome next week and I'll light a candle for ye and yer hoosband.'  She replied, 'Oh, thank ye, Father.' They then parted ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some years later they met again. The Father asked, 'Well now, Mrs. Donovan, how are ye these days?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, 'Oh, very well, Father!' The Father asked, 'And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, 'Oh yes, Father! Three sets of twins and 4 singles, 10 in all!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Father said, 'That's wonderful! And how is yer loving hoosband doing?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, 'E's gone to Rome to blow out yer fookin' candle!'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7647613787790866655?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7647613787790866655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7647613787790866655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7647613787790866655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7647613787790866655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/mrs-donovan.html' title='Mrs. Donovan'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2466375691904425481</id><published>2008-12-21T06:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T06:17:21.393-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blondes'/><title type='text'>Follow a Snow Plow</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It was snowing heavily and blowing to the point that visibility was almost zero when the little blonde got off work. She made her way to her car and wondered how she was going to make it home. She sat in her car while it warmed up and thought about her situation. She finally remembered her daddy's advice that if she got caught in a blizzard she should wait for a snow plow to come by and follow it. That way she would not get stuck in a snow drift. This made her feel much better and sure enough in a little while a snow plow went by and she started to follow it. As she followed the snow plow she was feeling very smug as they continued and she was not having any problem with the blizzard conditions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an hour had passed, she was somewhat surprised when the snowplow stopped and the driver got out and came back to her car and signaled for her to roll down her window. The snow plow driver wanted to know if she was all right as she had been following him for a long time. She said that she was fine and told him of her daddy's advice to follow a snow plow when caught in a blizzard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver replied that it was ok with him and she could continue if she wanted, but he was done with the Wal-Mart parking lot and was going over to Sears next.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2466375691904425481?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2466375691904425481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2466375691904425481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2466375691904425481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2466375691904425481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/follow-snow-plow.html' title='Follow a Snow Plow'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4843212324710122648</id><published>2008-12-19T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T11:10:25.651-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Animals'/><title type='text'>Why the Printer Doesn't Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;&lt;a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y20/PerthPurplePenguin/vids/?action=view&amp;current=cvUMHvLZ.flv" target="blank"&gt;Watch me&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4843212324710122648?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4843212324710122648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4843212324710122648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4843212324710122648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4843212324710122648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/why-printer-doesnt-work.html' title='Why the Printer Doesn&apos;t Work'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-7343112576346241094</id><published>2008-12-05T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T10:30:37.217-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Honeymoon'/><title type='text'>Still in the Crate</title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;Boudreaux, out on the golf course, takes a high speed ball right in the crotch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writhing in agony, he falls to the ground. As soon as he could manage, he took himself to the doctor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said 'How bad is it doc? . . . I'm going on my honeymoon next week and my fiance', Clotile, is still a virgin - in every way'. The doctor told him, 'I'll have to put your Willie in a splint to let it heal and keep it straight. It should be okay next week.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took four tongue depressors and formed a neat little 4 sided splint, and taped it all together . . . quite an impressive work of art. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boudreaux mentions none of this to Clotile, marries her, and they go on their honeymoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night in the motel room, Clotile rips open her blouse to reveal her beautiful untouched breasts. She said, 'You're the first one. No one has&lt;br /&gt;EVER seen deez.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boudreaux immediately drops his pants and replies, . . . . 'Look at dis, ...still in da CRATE!'&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-7343112576346241094?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/7343112576346241094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=7343112576346241094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7343112576346241094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/7343112576346241094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/still-in-crate.html' title='Still in the Crate'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8279498369981036876</id><published>2008-12-05T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T10:20:15.678-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Happy Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>This will probably bring back many memories to any of us having had experiences with small children's conversations. For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given and to savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie, but for this out to the car and crawled into the woman it has a whole different meaning:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed  back seat.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"What did you do today?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She couldn't wait to tell me. "We learned that boys are different from girls" she chirped. Looking into the rearview mirror I could just see the top of her head. "My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't," she added.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, yes they do ..." I said cautiously.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing hanging down and they know that he's a boy ..." I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My palms were beginning to sweat. "Um ... well ..." I was still searching for something to say, to change the subject, when she asked, "Why do the girls like boys to have those things?" Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that very same question at least once? "Oh, well...um..." I stammered.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's cause it moves when they walk and when girls see that they know they're boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, then the girl really knows he likes her too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things. As soon as we got home she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag. "I drew a picture," she said. "... you want to see?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I wasn't all that sure I did, but I looked anyway. I had to sit down. There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing. I laughed until I cried. But I told her I loved it - and I did - and she got over her pique. That was the end of that ... for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. Every year I remember that conversation, and to be honest I haven't looked at a turkey or a man the same way since.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8279498369981036876?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8279498369981036876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8279498369981036876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8279498369981036876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8279498369981036876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='Happy Thanksgiving'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-8724573591453746313</id><published>2008-12-05T10:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T10:06:53.524-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Nice Fire Truck</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The fire fighter is working on the engine outside the fire station when  he notices a little girl next door in a little red wagon with little  ladders hung off the sides and a garden hose tightly coiled in the  middle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The girl is wearing a fire fighter's helmet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The wagon is being pulled by her dog and her cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The fire fighter walked over to take a closer look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "That sure is a nice fire truck," he said with admiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Thanks," the little girl said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The fire fighter looks a little closer and notices the girl has tied  the wagon to her dog's collar and to the cat's testicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Little Partner", the fire fighter says, "I don't want to  tell you how  to run your rig, but if you were to tie that rope around the  cat's collar instead of it's testicles, I think it could run faster."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl replies thoughtfully,  "You're probably right, but then I wouldn't have a siren."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-8724573591453746313?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/8724573591453746313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=8724573591453746313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8724573591453746313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/8724573591453746313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/nice-fire-truck.html' title='Nice Fire Truck'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6651683346427580796</id><published>2008-12-05T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T10:03:04.347-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>A Christmas Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.&lt;br /&gt;When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6651683346427580796?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6651683346427580796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6651683346427580796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6651683346427580796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6651683346427580796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-story.html' title='A Christmas Story'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-4481214641446258216</id><published>2008-11-27T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:23:10.211-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>Palin Post-Election Event</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Now that the election is over, I hear that Sarah Palin is going to show there is no animosity about losing the election. She has invited both Obama and Biden on a moose hunting trip. She has already lined up Dick Cheney to teach gun safety and Ted Kennedy to drive them to their cabins after the pre-hunt party. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-4481214641446258216?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/4481214641446258216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=4481214641446258216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4481214641446258216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/4481214641446258216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/palin-post-election-event.html' title='Palin Post-Election Event'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-5325304297618453954</id><published>2008-11-27T17:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T17:21:23.590-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>How to Cook a Turkey</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Here is a turkey recipe that also includes the use of popcorn as a stuffing -- imagine that. When I found this recipe, I thought it was perfect for people like me, who just are not sure how to tell when poultry is thoroughly cooked, but not dried out. Give this a try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 - 15 lb. turkey &lt;br /&gt;1 cup melted butter &lt;br /&gt;1 cup stuffing (Pepperidge Farm is Good.) &lt;br /&gt;1 cup uncooked popcorn (ORVILLE REDENBACHER'S LOW FAT) &lt;br /&gt;Salt/pepper to taste &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preheat oven to 350°F. Brush turkey well with melted butter salt, and pepper. Fill cavity with stuffing and popcorn. Place in baking pan with the neck end toward the back of the oven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen for the popping sounds. When the turkey's butt blows the oven door open and the bird flies across the room, it's done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, you thought I didn't cook ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-5325304297618453954?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/5325304297618453954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=5325304297618453954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5325304297618453954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/5325304297618453954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/how-to-cook-turkey.html' title='How to Cook a Turkey'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-737012562020224228</id><published>2008-11-27T17:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T17:15:55.422-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='For the Women'/><title type='text'>What Size is Your Bra?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A man walked into the ladies department of Myer's and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, I'd like to buy a bra for my wife.    &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What type of bra, asked the clerk. Type, inquires the man, there's more than one type? Look around, said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material imaginable. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose from. Relieved, the man asked about the types. The saleslady replied: &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist types. Which one would you prefer? Now totally befuddled, the man asked about the differences between them. The Saleslady responded, it is all really quite simple. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Catholic type supports the masses; the Salvation Army type lifts the fallen; the Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright; the Baptist type makes mountains out of mole-hills.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wondered why A, B, C, D, DD, E, F, G, and H are the letters used to define bra sizes? If you have wondered why, but couldn't figure out what the letters stood for, it is about time you became informed! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;{A} Almost Boobs  &lt;br /&gt;{B} Barely there   &lt;br /&gt;{C} Can't Complain!   &lt;br /&gt;{D} Dang!   &lt;br /&gt;{DD} Double dang!   &lt;br /&gt;{E} Enormous!   &lt;br /&gt;{F} Fake   &lt;br /&gt;{G} Get a Reduction   &lt;br /&gt;{H} Help me, I've fallen and I can't get up!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-737012562020224228?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/737012562020224228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=737012562020224228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/737012562020224228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/737012562020224228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-size-is-your-bra.html' title='What Size is Your Bra?'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-875936542669922162</id><published>2008-11-27T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T17:07:36.639-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Kiddie Comments</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;While I sat in the reception area of my doctor's office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room. As she went to the receptionist's desk, the man sat there, alone and silent. Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother's lap and walked over to the wheelchair.  Placing his hand on the man's, he said, 'I know how you feel.  My mom makes me ride in the stroller too.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was nursing my baby, my cousin's six-year-old daughter, Krissy, came into the room. Never having seen anyone breast feed before, she was intrigued and full of all kinds of questions about what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After mulling over my answers, she remarked, 'My mom has some of those, but I don't think she knows how to use them.'&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out bicycling one day with my eight-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn, I got a little wistful.  'In ten years,' I said, 'you'll want to be with your friends and you won't go walking, biking, and swimming with me like you do now.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Carolyn shrugged. 'In ten years you'll be too old to do all those things anyway.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working as a pediatric nurse, I had the difficult assignment of giving immunization shots to children.  One day I entered the examining room to give four-year-old Lizzie her needle.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'No, no, no!' she screamed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Lizzie,' scolded her mother, 'that's not polite behavior.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;With that, the girl yelled even louder, 'No, thank you! No, thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back from a Cub Scout meeting, my grandson asked my son the question. 'Dad, I know that babies come from mommies' tummies, but how do they get there in the first place?' he asked innocently.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After my son hemmed and hawed awhile, my grandson finally spoke up in disgust. 'You don't have to make something up, Dad. It's OK if you don't know the answer.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before I was deployed to Iraq , I sat my eight-year-old son down and broke the news to him.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'I'm going to be away for a long time,' I told him.  'I'm going to Iraq.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Why?' he asked. 'Don't you know there's a war going on over there?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul Newman founded the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp for children stricken with cancer, AIDS and blood diseases.  One afternoon he and his wife, Joanne Woodward, stopped by to have lunch with the kids.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A counselor at a nearby table, suspecting the young patients wouldn't know that Newman was a famous movie star, explained, 'That's the man who made this camp possible.  Maybe you've seen his picture on his salad dressing bottle?'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Blank stares.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Well, you've probably seen his face on his lemonade carton.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;An eight-year-old girl perked up and said, 'How long was he missing?'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-875936542669922162?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/875936542669922162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=875936542669922162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/875936542669922162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/875936542669922162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/kiddie-comments.html' title='Kiddie Comments'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-2049163214433331681</id><published>2008-11-27T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T16:50:16.796-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Politically Correct'/><title type='text'>Elmo</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;There is a factory in Northern Minnesota which makes the Tickle Me Elmo toys. The toy laughs when you tickle it under the arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Lena is hired at The Tickle Me Elmo factory and she reports for her first day promptly at 8:00 am &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day at 8:45 am there is a knock at the Personnel Manager's door. The Foreman throws open the door and begins to rant about the new employee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He complains that she is incredibly slow and the whole line is backing up, putting the entire production line behind schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Personnel Manager decides he should see this for himself, so the two men march down to the factory floor. When they get there the line is so backed up that there are Tickle Me Elmo's all over the factory floor and they're really beginning to pile up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the line stands Lena surrounded by mountains of Tickle Me Elmo's. She has a roll of plush Red fabric and a huge bag of small marbles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two men watch in amazement as she cuts a little piece of fabric, wraps it around two marbles and begins to carefully sew the little package between Elmo's legs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Personnel Manager bursts into laughter. After several minutes of hysterics he pulls himself together and approaches Lena. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry," he says to her, barely able to keep a straight face, "but I think you misunderstood the instructions I gave you yesterday ...Your job is to give Elmo two test tickles."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-2049163214433331681?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/2049163214433331681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=2049163214433331681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2049163214433331681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/2049163214433331681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/elmo.html' title='Elmo'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-6218595609537136753</id><published>2008-11-27T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T16:43:32.754-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>The Parrot</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A young man named John received a parrot as a gift. The parrot had a bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary. Every word out of the bird's mouth was rude, obnoxious, and laced with profanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John tried and tried to change the bird's attitude by consistently saying only polite words, playing soft music, and anything else he could think of to "clean up" the bird's vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, John was fed up, and he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled back. John shook the parrot, and the parrot got angrier and even ruder. John, in desperation, threw up his hand, grabbed the bird, and put him in the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then suddenly there was total quiet. Not a peep was heard for over a minute. Fearing that he'd hurt the parrot, John quickly opened the door to the freezer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parrot calmly stepped out onto John's outstretched arms and said, "I believe I may have offended you with my rude language and actions. I'm sincerely remorseful for my inappropriate transgressions and I fully intend to do everything I can to correct my rude and unforgivable behavior."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John was stunned at the change in the bird's attitude. As he was about to ask the parrot what had made such a dramatic change in his behavior, the bird continued, "May I ask what the turkey did?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-6218595609537136753?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/6218595609537136753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=6218595609537136753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6218595609537136753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/6218595609537136753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/parrot.html' title='The Parrot'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-464102537727013616.post-903292715167528585</id><published>2008-11-27T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T16:38:06.348-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Vibrator</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;As a woman passed her daughter's closed bedroom door, she heard a strange buzzing noise coming from within. Opening the door, she observed her daughter with a vibrator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shocked, she asked: "What in the world are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The daughter replied: "Mom, I'm thirty-five years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Please, go away and leave me alone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the girl's father heard the same buzz coming from the other side of the closed bedroom door. Upon entering the room, he observed his daughter making passionate love to her vibrator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To his query as to what she was doing, the daughter said: "Dad I'm thirty-five, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Please, go away and leave me alone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple days later, the wife came home from a shopping trip, placed the groceries on the kitchen counter, and heard that buzzing noise coming from, of all places, the living room. She entered that area and observed her husband sitting on the couch, downing a cold beer, and staring at the TV. The vibrator was next to him on the couch, buzzing like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife asked: "What the fuck are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replied: "I'm watching football with my son-in-law."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/464102537727013616-903292715167528585?l=emailedfunnies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/feeds/903292715167528585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=464102537727013616&amp;postID=903292715167528585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/903292715167528585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/464102537727013616/posts/default/903292715167528585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emailedfunnies.blogspot.com/2008/11/vibrator.html' title='The Vibrator'/><author><name>RockSpot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04372561103923806914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LydLK5lgX90/SGEqb2lHi2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/hVeAGe6Ltj8/S220/48x48.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
