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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcCRXo-eyp7ImA9WxBUGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858</id><updated>2010-03-06T11:17:44.453-08:00</updated><title>Funny Jokes,Pics,Stories</title><subtitle type="html">Laugh! Laugh! Laugh!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>394</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FunnyJokespicsstories" /><feedburner:info uri="funnyjokespicsstories" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>FunnyJokespicsstories</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEFQH4-cCp7ImA9WxNVFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-4408413218532417472</id><published>2009-10-26T03:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T03:23:31.058-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-26T03:23:31.058-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><title>The Lie Detector Robot</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p5rra4Bn2VaGDgivhJOosV4M5Lc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p5rra4Bn2VaGDgivhJOosV4M5Lc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p5rra4Bn2VaGDgivhJOosV4M5Lc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p5rra4Bn2VaGDgivhJOosV4M5Lc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmick. His wife Marsha had long ago given up trying to get him to change. One day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector. It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 11 year old son, returned home from school. Tommy was over 2 hours late. "Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?" asked John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project," said Tommy. The robot then walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out of his chair. "Son," said John, "this robot is a lie detector. Now tell us where you really were after school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie." said Tommy. "What did you watch?" asked Marsha. "The Ten Commandments," answered Tommy. The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his chair once more. With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, "I am sorry I lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am ashamed of you son," said John. "When I was your age, I never lied to my parents."&lt;br /&gt;The robot then walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly knocked him out of his chair. Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, "Boy, did you ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!" With that the robot immediately walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-4408413218532417472?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/qv4UbsiqnGM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/4408413218532417472/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/10/lie-detector-robot.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/4408413218532417472?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/4408413218532417472?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/qv4UbsiqnGM/lie-detector-robot.html" title="The Lie Detector Robot" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/10/lie-detector-robot.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcCRH88eyp7ImA9WxNRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-6044523206701198417</id><published>2009-09-14T01:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T01:31:05.173-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-14T01:31:05.173-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dating Jokes" /><title>Dinner Dates!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9HAcMGkg0WECM7S7-QxlVvmgE-4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9HAcMGkg0WECM7S7-QxlVvmgE-4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9HAcMGkg0WECM7S7-QxlVvmgE-4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9HAcMGkg0WECM7S7-QxlVvmgE-4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;A man and a beautiful woman were having dinner in a fine restaurant. Their&lt;br /&gt;waitress (taking another order at a table a few paces away) suddenly&lt;br /&gt;noticed that the man was slowing sliding down his chair and under the&lt;br /&gt;table, but the woman acted unconcerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress watched as the man slid all the way down his chair and out of&lt;br /&gt;sight under the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, the woman dining across from him appeared calm and unruffled,&lt;br /&gt;apparently unaware that her dining companion had disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the waitress finished taking the order, she came over to the table&lt;br /&gt;and said to the woman, "Pardon me, ma'am, but I think your husband just&lt;br /&gt;slid under the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman calmly looked up at her and replied, "No he didn't. He just&lt;br /&gt;walked in the door."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-6044523206701198417?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/tIbAGb0pQKY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/6044523206701198417/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/dinner-dates.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6044523206701198417?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6044523206701198417?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/tIbAGb0pQKY/dinner-dates.html" title="Dinner Dates!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/dinner-dates.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cESHk-cSp7ImA9WxNRFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-7990049171534962193</id><published>2009-09-09T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T04:16:49.759-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-09T04:16:49.759-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>Reincarnated as a HEN!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K3W5lcxLtloSLTMTTIR_sJpnmlI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K3W5lcxLtloSLTMTTIR_sJpnmlI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K3W5lcxLtloSLTMTTIR_sJpnmlI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K3W5lcxLtloSLTMTTIR_sJpnmlI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Jason came home from the pub late one Friday evening stinking drunk (as he often did) and crept into bed beside his wife who was already asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;When he awoke he found a strange man standing at the end of his bed wearing a long flowing white robe.&lt;br /&gt;“Who the hell are you?” Demanded Jason, “and what are you doing in my bedroom?”.&lt;br /&gt;The mysterious Man answered “This isn’t your bedroom and I’m St. Peter”.&lt;br /&gt;Jason was stunned “You mean I’m dead!!! That can’t be, I have so much to live for, I haven’t said goodbye to my family…. you’ve got to send me back straight away”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St Peter replied “Yes you can be reincarnated but there is a catch. We can only send you back as a dog or a hen.” Jason was devastated, but knowing there was a farm not far from his house, he asked to be sent back as a hen. A flash of light later he was covered in feathers and clucking around pecking the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This ain’t so bad” he thought until he felt this strange feeling welling up inside him.&lt;br /&gt;The farmyard rooster strolled over and said “So you’re the new hen, how are you enjoying your first day here?”&lt;br /&gt;“It’s not so bad” replies Jason, “but I have this strange feeling inside like I’m about to explode”.&lt;br /&gt;“You’re ovulating” explained the rooster, “don’t tell me you’ve never laid an egg before”.&lt;br /&gt;“Never” replies Jason.&lt;br /&gt;“Well just relax and let it happen”.&lt;br /&gt;And so he did and after a few uncomfortable seconds later, an egg pops out from under his tail. An immense feeling of relief swept over him and his emotions got the better of him as he experienced motherhood for the first time. When he laid his second egg, the feeling of happiness was overwhelming and he knew that being reincarnated as a hen was the best thing that had ever happened to him… ever!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The joy kept coming and as he was just about to lay his third egg he felt an enormous SMACK on the back of his head and heard his wife shouting “Jason, wake up you drunken bastard, you’re shitting the bed!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-7990049171534962193?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/jXM_J4J8ZoA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/7990049171534962193/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/reincarnated-as-hen.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7990049171534962193?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7990049171534962193?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/jXM_J4J8ZoA/reincarnated-as-hen.html" title="Reincarnated as a HEN!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/reincarnated-as-hen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UMQXcyfip7ImA9WxNRE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-177524336452050568</id><published>2009-09-07T01:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T01:14:40.996-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-07T01:14:40.996-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><title>The Mental Hospital</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h5Y2nFsdKchBE7O8lSuQ1GCm6qE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h5Y2nFsdKchBE7O8lSuQ1GCm6qE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h5Y2nFsdKchBE7O8lSuQ1GCm6qE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h5Y2nFsdKchBE7O8lSuQ1GCm6qE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Ron and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital. One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Ron suddenly jumped into the deep end. He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled Ron out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act, she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she went to tell Edna the news she said, 'Edna, I have good news and bad news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is you're being discharged; since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of another patient, I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bad news is, Ron, the patient you saved, hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so sorry, but he's dead.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edna replied, 'He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How soon can I go home?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-177524336452050568?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/u8GZ90mC8BE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/177524336452050568/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/mental-hospital.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/177524336452050568?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/177524336452050568?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/u8GZ90mC8BE/mental-hospital.html" title="The Mental Hospital" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/mental-hospital.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YBRH0yeCp7ImA9WxNRE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-5902685278843950744</id><published>2009-09-07T01:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T01:12:35.390-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-07T01:12:35.390-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><title>Blind Pilots</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/20uA54DRvVLe481wu13vNtUa7ro/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/20uA54DRvVLe481wu13vNtUa7ro/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/20uA54DRvVLe481wu13vNtUa7ro/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/20uA54DRvVLe481wu13vNtUa7ro/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;One day at a busy airport, the passengers on a commercial airliner are seated, waiting for the cockpit crew to show up so they can get under way. The pilot and co-pilot finally appear in the rear of the plane, and begin walking up to the cockpit through the center aisle. Both appear to be blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot is using a white cane, bumping into passengers right and left as he stumbles down the aisle, and the co-pilot is using a guide dog. Both have their eyes covered with huge sunglasses. At first the passengers don't react, thinking that it must be some sort of practical joke. However, after a few minutes the engines start revving and the airplane starts moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passengers look at each other with some uneasiness, whispering among themselves and looking desperately to the stewardesses for reassurance. Then the airplane starts accelerating rapidly down the runway and people begin panicking. Some passengers are praying, and as the plane gets closer and closer to the end of the runway, the voices are becoming more and more hysterical. Finally, when the airplane has less than 20 feet of runway left, there is a sudden change in the pitch of the shouts as everyone screams at once, and at the very last moment the airplane lifts off and is airborne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in the cockpit, the co-pilot breathes a sigh of relief and turns to the pilot: "You know, one of these days the passengers aren't going to scream, and we're gonna get killed!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-5902685278843950744?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/DVy2NAOKUuk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/5902685278843950744/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/blind-pilots.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5902685278843950744?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5902685278843950744?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/DVy2NAOKUuk/blind-pilots.html" title="Blind Pilots" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/blind-pilots.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYARHg7fCp7ImA9WxNREUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-731279110543737108</id><published>2009-09-05T01:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T01:42:25.604-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-05T01:42:25.604-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><title>Japanese Wisdom</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-x50oFCuoWG9qzeL90hpxGZXP6k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-x50oFCuoWG9qzeL90hpxGZXP6k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-x50oFCuoWG9qzeL90hpxGZXP6k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-x50oFCuoWG9qzeL90hpxGZXP6k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;An American, a Japanese and a Chinese went for a hike one day. It was very hot. They were sweating and exhausted. When they came upon a small lake, they took off all their clothes and jumped into&lt;br /&gt;the water since it was fairly secluded.&lt;br /&gt;Feeling refreshed, the trio decided to pick a few berries while enjoying their "freedom." As they were crossing an open area, suddenly a group of ladies from town appeared.&lt;br /&gt;Unable to get to their clothes in time, the American and the Chinese quickly used their hands to cover their privates. But the Japanese covered his face while they ran for cover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ladies had left and the men got their clothes back on, the American and the Chinese asked the Japanese why he covered his face rather than his private part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese replied, "I don't know about you, but in my country, it's the face that people recognize."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-731279110543737108?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/lZwBYHo15Zk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/731279110543737108/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/japanese-wisdom.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/731279110543737108?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/731279110543737108?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/lZwBYHo15Zk/japanese-wisdom.html" title="Japanese Wisdom" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/japanese-wisdom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MNSXo5cCp7ImA9WxNSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-8670285626360731499</id><published>2009-09-01T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T19:44:58.428-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-01T19:44:58.428-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>The Liberal Couple</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZKwl-fQL1un9mXS3MHuinZ-AjNI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZKwl-fQL1un9mXS3MHuinZ-AjNI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZKwl-fQL1un9mXS3MHuinZ-AjNI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZKwl-fQL1un9mXS3MHuinZ-AjNI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sandy and John were an extremely liberal, though not especially bright, white couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanting to begin a family, they decided they wanted to have a black baby, and set to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine months later, the fruits of their labor was born: a lovely white girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pleased but disappointed, John decided to ask a black man at work why they hadn't parented a black baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing that John was somewhat sluggish, the fellow took him aside and asked, "Is your wanker at least a foot long?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John had to admit that it was not. "And is it at least four inches wide?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once more John replied in the negative. "Well, man, there's your problem!" the guy slapped him on the back. "You let in too much light!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-8670285626360731499?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/5PtPDILGSm0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/8670285626360731499/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/liberal-couple.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8670285626360731499?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8670285626360731499?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/5PtPDILGSm0/liberal-couple.html" title="The Liberal Couple" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/09/liberal-couple.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMBSXkzeCp7ImA9WxNSF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-4973090250641779612</id><published>2009-08-31T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T23:27:38.780-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-31T23:27:38.780-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lawyer Jokes" /><title>The Rancher</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lgd-Nz8UEwnY2ZhJwJEerUWvYQw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lgd-Nz8UEwnY2ZhJwJEerUWvYQw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lgd-Nz8UEwnY2ZhJwJEerUWvYQw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lgd-Nz8UEwnY2ZhJwJEerUWvYQw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;A big-city lawyer was representing the railroad in a lawsuit filed by an old rancher. The rancher's prize bull was missing from the section through which the railroad passed. The rancher only wanted to be paid the fair value of the bull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The case was scheduled to be tried before the justice of the peace in the back room of the general store. The city-slicker attorney for the railroad immediately cornered the rancher and tried to get him to settle out of court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did his best selling job, and finally the rancher agreed to take half of what he was asking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the rancher had signed the release and took the check, the young lawyer couldn't resist gloating a little over his success, telling the rancher, "You are really a country hick, old man, but I put one over on you in there. I couldn't have won the case. The engineer was asleep and the fireman was in the caboose when the train went through your ranch that morning. I didn't have one witness to put on the stand. I bluffed you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old rancher replied, "Well, I'll tell you young feller, I was a little worried about winning that case myself, because that durned bull came home this morning."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-4973090250641779612?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/4UpprDDJ1BQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/4973090250641779612/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/rancher.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/4973090250641779612?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/4973090250641779612?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/4UpprDDJ1BQ/rancher.html" title="The Rancher" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/rancher.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkENRHgyeyp7ImA9WxNSF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-3360544125498765894</id><published>2009-08-31T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T04:38:15.693-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-31T04:38:15.693-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Funny Ads" /><title>Magazine Ads</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ZhRrGcOmFGJVmefQrRS7FKZKoY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ZhRrGcOmFGJVmefQrRS7FKZKoY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ZhRrGcOmFGJVmefQrRS7FKZKoY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ZhRrGcOmFGJVmefQrRS7FKZKoY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2BtrZbQI/AAAAAAAAAqg/6q4AFo0Qx68/s1600-h/humo4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2BtrZbQI/AAAAAAAAAqg/6q4AFo0Qx68/s320/humo4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376090720754560258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2BJdmhsI/AAAAAAAAAqY/Ab77bVohjHU/s1600-h/humo3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2BJdmhsI/AAAAAAAAAqY/Ab77bVohjHU/s320/humo3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376090711033022146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2A_1RDBI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/nDW1KUs1CKY/s1600-h/humo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2A_1RDBI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/nDW1KUs1CKY/s320/humo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376090708447923218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2AU5BltI/AAAAAAAAAqI/q1cvXsTXhIk/s1600-h/humo1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2AU5BltI/AAAAAAAAAqI/q1cvXsTXhIk/s320/humo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376090696920962770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well came across these belgian magazine ads, well they are humorous and higly controversial too.. i am sure with in a short period of time.. a debate will start about banning these i guess.. but in the meanwhile.. enjoy them.. they are hilarious and highly creative!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-3360544125498765894?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/osToLq8Drlw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/3360544125498765894/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/magazine-ads.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/3360544125498765894?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/3360544125498765894?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/osToLq8Drlw/magazine-ads.html" title="Magazine Ads" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/Spu2BtrZbQI/AAAAAAAAAqg/6q4AFo0Qx68/s72-c/humo4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/magazine-ads.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04CQXY4eSp7ImA9WxNSFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-6391716703423263302</id><published>2009-08-30T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T23:26:00.831-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-30T23:26:00.831-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marriage Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dating Jokes" /><title>The Perfect Mate</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rleS6FF9RCGiQlIe5lZltAyzYzs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rleS6FF9RCGiQlIe5lZltAyzYzs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rleS6FF9RCGiQlIe5lZltAyzYzs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rleS6FF9RCGiQlIe5lZltAyzYzs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;At a local coffee bar, a young woman was expounding on her idea of the perfect mate to some of her friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The man I marry must be a shining light amongst company. He must be musical. Tell jokes. Sing. And stay home at night!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old granny overheard and spoke up, "Honey, if that's all you want, get a TV!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-6391716703423263302?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/7BpT4UoVdHw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/6391716703423263302/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/perfect-mate.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6391716703423263302?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6391716703423263302?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/7BpT4UoVdHw/perfect-mate.html" title="The Perfect Mate" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/perfect-mate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYEQH09cSp7ImA9WxNSFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-6130937974291053269</id><published>2009-08-28T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T23:25:01.369-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-28T23:25:01.369-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Blonde Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Woman Jokes" /><title>3 Women!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hN2mz8VXpR939HZYjd7hiI8BbFI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hN2mz8VXpR939HZYjd7hiI8BbFI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hN2mz8VXpR939HZYjd7hiI8BbFI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hN2mz8VXpR939HZYjd7hiI8BbFI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Three women are sitting in a doctors office waiting for their pregnancy test results. The Brunette says, "If I'm pregnant it will be a girl because I was on the bottom." The red head replies,"If I'm pregnant I will have a boy because I was on top." The Blonde stops, thinks a minute and and says, "Then I'm gonna have puppies !"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-6130937974291053269?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/v3-QS36yO_U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/6130937974291053269/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/3-women.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6130937974291053269?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/6130937974291053269?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/v3-QS36yO_U/3-women.html" title="3 Women!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/3-women.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEANRXc_fCp7ImA9WxNSFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-421693255840673494</id><published>2009-08-28T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T09:26:34.944-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-28T09:26:34.944-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dating Jokes" /><title>The Evening Gown!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xdFcTGLY021Rr52gGXNqRGPG1Yo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xdFcTGLY021Rr52gGXNqRGPG1Yo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xdFcTGLY021Rr52gGXNqRGPG1Yo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xdFcTGLY021Rr52gGXNqRGPG1Yo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Jill's fine figure had been poured into a beautiful form-fitting gown and she made a point of calling her date's attention to it over and over again throughout the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, over a nightcap in his apartment he said, "You've been talking about that dress all evening long. You called my attention to it first when we met for cocktails, mentioned it again at dinner, and still again at the theatre. Now that we're here alone in my apartment, what do you say we drop the subject?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-421693255840673494?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/cVAKT-OvVEs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/421693255840673494/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/evening-gown.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/421693255840673494?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/421693255840673494?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/cVAKT-OvVEs/evening-gown.html" title="The Evening Gown!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/evening-gown.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UAQHY7fCp7ImA9WxNSE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-7507022625352970165</id><published>2009-08-27T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T00:47:21.804-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-27T00:47:21.804-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>In Vegas</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlxNJJxprDlF9d0i-kQzZbsrKHs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlxNJJxprDlF9d0i-kQzZbsrKHs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlxNJJxprDlF9d0i-kQzZbsrKHs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlxNJJxprDlF9d0i-kQzZbsrKHs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;George and Harriet decided to celebrate their 25th Wedding Anniversary with a trip to Las Vegas. When they entered the hotel/casino and registered, a sweet young woman dressed in a very short skirt became very friendly. George brushed her off. Harriet objected, "George, that young woman was nice, and you were so rude."&lt;br /&gt;"Harriet, shes a prostitute."&lt;br /&gt;"I dont believe you. That sweet young thing?"&lt;br /&gt;"Lets go up to our room and Ill prove it."&lt;br /&gt;In their room, George called down to the desk and asked for Bambi to come to room 1217. "Now," he said, "you hide in the bathroom with the door open just enough to hear us, OK?"&lt;br /&gt;Soon, there was a knock on the door. George opened it and Bambi walked in, swirling her hips provocatively.&lt;br /&gt;George asked, "How much do you charge?"&lt;br /&gt;"$125 basic rate, $100 tips for special services." Bambi replied&lt;br /&gt;"$125! I was thinking more in the range of $25." said George&lt;br /&gt;Bambi laughed derisively. "You must really be a hick if you think you can buy sex for that price."&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said George, "I guess we cant do business. Goodbye."&lt;br /&gt;After she left, Harriet came out of the bathroom. She said, "I just cant believe it!" George said, "Lets forget it. Well go have a drink, then eat dinner."&lt;br /&gt;At the bar, as they sipped their cocktails, Bambi came up behind George, pointed slyly at Harriet, and said, "See what you get for $25?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-7507022625352970165?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/IaiEwfwb_Dg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/7507022625352970165/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/in-vegas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7507022625352970165?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7507022625352970165?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/IaiEwfwb_Dg/in-vegas.html" title="In Vegas" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/in-vegas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEHRn4_cCp7ImA9WxNSE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-108283578650534104</id><published>2009-08-27T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T00:37:17.048-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-27T00:37:17.048-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>$ 300</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lqeFFqie3wIkvTaLZ7VWCcWcK_M/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lqeFFqie3wIkvTaLZ7VWCcWcK_M/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lqeFFqie3wIkvTaLZ7VWCcWcK_M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lqeFFqie3wIkvTaLZ7VWCcWcK_M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;So a guy is walking down an alley when he sees a busty well-curved woman. He says "you are so hot can i have sex with you?" . The girl then looks at him surprised and says "What!? Hell no! Go the fuck away!". So the man says "I will pay you 50 dollars" and she says "Fuck off!" So the man then says "How about i pull out 300$, throw it on the ground and when you bend over to pick it up i can have my way with you, and ill stop as soon as you pick up the money." The woman then thinks about it and asks if she can call her boyfriend to see if its ok with him. The man says yes and she calls her boyfriend and explains that she will pick up the money before he can even get his pants down. Her boyfriend says ok and waits for her to call him back.... and waits...and waits. Finally 45minutes later she calls him and he asks "what happened?" She then says" That Fucker payed in quarters"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-108283578650534104?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/AHcN-QcQQyE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/108283578650534104/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/300.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/108283578650534104?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/108283578650534104?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/AHcN-QcQQyE/300.html" title="$ 300" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/300.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMCSHoyeSp7ImA9WxNSE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-7342302415835656973</id><published>2009-08-27T00:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T00:34:29.491-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-27T00:34:29.491-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>Premature</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q0e31rYpKFRbCpSUBO8k3S5AM8s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q0e31rYpKFRbCpSUBO8k3S5AM8s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q0e31rYpKFRbCpSUBO8k3S5AM8s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q0e31rYpKFRbCpSUBO8k3S5AM8s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;One day a guy with premature ejaculation problems went to a doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor said, "Whenever you feel the urge to ejaculate, startle yourself." So he went out and bought a starter pistol. When he got home his wife was naked in bed ready for him. So they got in the 69 position and started at it. When he felt the urge he fired the pistol. The next day he went to the doctor and the doctor asked him how it went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Not too good. My wife bit off three inches off my dick, shit in my face and my neighbor came out of the closet with his hands up, naked."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-7342302415835656973?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/eX3MDYIscYM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/7342302415835656973/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/premature.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7342302415835656973?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/7342302415835656973?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/eX3MDYIscYM/premature.html" title="Premature" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/premature.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMMSHg9cCp7ImA9WxNSE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-8361434768346789123</id><published>2009-08-27T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T00:01:29.668-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-27T00:01:29.668-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><title>Ladies Talk</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ay-ccrrT0YcpVIgGdEjDmoAMnU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ay-ccrrT0YcpVIgGdEjDmoAMnU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ay-ccrrT0YcpVIgGdEjDmoAMnU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ay-ccrrT0YcpVIgGdEjDmoAMnU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home, reminiscing. The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third old lady remarked, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-8361434768346789123?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/_TPp0TD04TY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/8361434768346789123/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/ladies-talk.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8361434768346789123?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8361434768346789123?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/_TPp0TD04TY/ladies-talk.html" title="Ladies Talk" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/ladies-talk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8GQ3w-eSp7ImA9WxNSEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-8076094244577105738</id><published>2009-08-25T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T23:23:42.251-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-25T23:23:42.251-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Adult Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarious" /><title>You know when You are Drunk...</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LxPOm68WCxUMw7v667mideCg96E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LxPOm68WCxUMw7v667mideCg96E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LxPOm68WCxUMw7v667mideCg96E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LxPOm68WCxUMw7v667mideCg96E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h1&gt;You Know Your Drunk When...&lt;/h1&gt; &lt;div id="jokeBody"&gt;  1. You lose arguments with inanimate objects.&lt;br /&gt;2. You have to hold onto the lawn to keep from falling off the earth.&lt;br /&gt;3. Job interfering with your drinking.&lt;br /&gt;4. Your doctor finds traces of blood in your alcohol stream.&lt;br /&gt;5. Career won't progress beyond Senator from Massachusetts.&lt;br /&gt;6. The back of your head keeps getting hit by the toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;7. Sincerely believe alcohol to be the elusive 5th food group.&lt;br /&gt;8. 24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case - coincidence?? - I think not!&lt;br /&gt;9. Two hands and just one mouth... - now THAT'S a drinking problem!&lt;br /&gt;10. You can focus better with one eye closed.&lt;br /&gt;11. The parking lot seems to have moved while you were in the bar.&lt;br /&gt;12. You fall off the floor...&lt;br /&gt;13. Your twin sons are named Barley and Hops.&lt;br /&gt;14. Hey, 5 beers has just as many calories as a burger, screw dinner!&lt;br /&gt;15. Mosquitoes catch a buzz after attacking you&lt;br /&gt;16. At AA meetings you begin: "Hi, my name is... uh..."&lt;br /&gt;17. You wake up in the bedroom, your underwear is in the bathroom, yet you are fully clothed (other than your missing underwear).&lt;br /&gt;18. The whole bar says 'Hi' when you come in...&lt;br /&gt;19. You think the Four Basic Food Groups are Caffeine, Nicotine, Alcohol, and Women&lt;br /&gt;20. Every night you're beginning to find your roommate's cat more and more attractive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-8076094244577105738?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/bD1cDM9Zhxg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/8076094244577105738/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/you-know-when-you-are-drunk.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8076094244577105738?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/8076094244577105738?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/bD1cDM9Zhxg/you-know-when-you-are-drunk.html" title="You know when You are Drunk..." /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/you-know-when-you-are-drunk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcERXw_eyp7ImA9WxNSEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-1765470475134885783</id><published>2009-08-25T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T23:10:04.243-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-25T23:10:04.243-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Funny signs" /><title>Funny Warning Signs</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nMqOrUl9rwaveKMatKoRHiKg178/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nMqOrUl9rwaveKMatKoRHiKg178/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nMqOrUl9rwaveKMatKoRHiKg178/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nMqOrUl9rwaveKMatKoRHiKg178/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQtcGnidI/AAAAAAAAAqA/g6E0v03Pu70/s1600-h/warning5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQtcGnidI/AAAAAAAAAqA/g6E0v03Pu70/s320/warning5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374149734416484818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQsyPyGGI/AAAAAAAAAp4/UslYU7lr55k/s1600-h/warning4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQsyPyGGI/AAAAAAAAAp4/UslYU7lr55k/s320/warning4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374149723180636258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQsUOC8eI/AAAAAAAAApw/fC_cP-WF2Nc/s1600-h/warning3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 184px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQsUOC8eI/AAAAAAAAApw/fC_cP-WF2Nc/s320/warning3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374149715120288226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQr9jhMKI/AAAAAAAAApo/KgKqEnpp5fs/s1600-h/warning2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQr9jhMKI/AAAAAAAAApo/KgKqEnpp5fs/s320/warning2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374149709036335266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQrVpp23I/AAAAAAAAApg/--pFM7xm-yQ/s1600-h/warning1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQrVpp23I/AAAAAAAAApg/--pFM7xm-yQ/s320/warning1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374149698324650866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-1765470475134885783?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/qXH8DROrZt8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/1765470475134885783/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/funny-warning-signs.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1765470475134885783?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1765470475134885783?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/qXH8DROrZt8/funny-warning-signs.html" title="Funny Warning Signs" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SpTQtcGnidI/AAAAAAAAAqA/g6E0v03Pu70/s72-c/warning5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/funny-warning-signs.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUBR34zcSp7ImA9WxNSEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-1578825898040601369</id><published>2009-08-24T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T23:37:36.089-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-24T23:37:36.089-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lawyer Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarious" /><title>Real Things Said in Court!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JlHenfeFxQp3s8i5kXU6-P6uLW4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JlHenfeFxQp3s8i5kXU6-P6uLW4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JlHenfeFxQp3s8i5kXU6-P6uLW4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JlHenfeFxQp3s8i5kXU6-P6uLW4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;These are things that people actually said in court, word for word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is your date of birth?&lt;br /&gt;A: July fifteenth.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What year?&lt;br /&gt;A: Every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?&lt;br /&gt;A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How old is your son-the one living with you.&lt;br /&gt;A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How long has he lived with you?&lt;br /&gt;A: Forty-five years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that morning?&lt;br /&gt;A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"&lt;br /&gt;Q: And why did that upset you?&lt;br /&gt;A: My name is Susan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you blow your horn or anything?&lt;br /&gt;A: After the accident?&lt;br /&gt;Q: Before the accident.&lt;br /&gt;A: Sure, I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in the voodoo or occult?&lt;br /&gt;A: We both do.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Voodoo?&lt;br /&gt;A: We do.&lt;br /&gt;Q: You do?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, voodoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Trooper, when you stopped the defendant, were your red and blue lights flashing?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did the defendant say anything when she got out of her car?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;Q: What did she say?&lt;br /&gt;A: What disco am I at?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did he kill you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: You were there until the time you left, is that true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How many times have you committed suicide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: She had three children, right?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How many were boys?&lt;br /&gt;A: None.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Were there any girls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: You say the stairs went down to the basement?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?&lt;br /&gt;A: I went to Europe, Sir.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And you took your new wife?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How was your first marriage terminated?&lt;br /&gt;A: By death.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And by whose death was it terminated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Can you describe the individual?&lt;br /&gt;A: He was about medium height and had a beard.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Was this a male, or a female?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?&lt;br /&gt;A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?&lt;br /&gt;A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?&lt;br /&gt;A: Oral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?&lt;br /&gt;A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?&lt;br /&gt;A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: You were not shot in the fracas?&lt;br /&gt;A: No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the navel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Doctor, before you signed the death certificate, did you check for a pulse?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you check for blood pressure?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: Did you check for breathing?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you signed the certificate?&lt;br /&gt;A: No.&lt;br /&gt;Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?&lt;br /&gt;A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar. But now that you mention it, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-1578825898040601369?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/IAn2W5HQ5NI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/1578825898040601369/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/real-things-said-in-court.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1578825898040601369?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1578825898040601369?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/IAn2W5HQ5NI/real-things-said-in-court.html" title="Real Things Said in Court!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/real-things-said-in-court.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIERXg4eSp7ImA9WxNSEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-5635097124846824104</id><published>2009-08-24T00:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T00:21:44.631-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-24T00:21:44.631-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><title>The Mexican</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/trFrsncVnCqL_zKCE2L2w5kxvLU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/trFrsncVnCqL_zKCE2L2w5kxvLU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/trFrsncVnCqL_zKCE2L2w5kxvLU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/trFrsncVnCqL_zKCE2L2w5kxvLU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Jose arrives at the Mexican border on his bike with 2 huge bags over his shoulders. The guard stops him and asks: "What's in the bags?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Senior, It's only sand." replies Jose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sand??? Well, we'll just see about that - get off the bike!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard takes the bags, rips them open, empties them out and finds nothing in them...except sand. Detaining Jose overnight, the sand is analysed, but only to discover it is in fact simply sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jose is released, the sand is put into new bags and placed on Jose's shoulders, and he is let across the border.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day, same thing happens. The guard asks: "What you got there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sand," says Jose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thorough examination of the bags again shows there to be nothing but sand, and subsequently Jose is allowed to ride across the border.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a whole year this continues until one day Jose doesn't show up, and the guard discovers him in a Cantina in Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, Bud," says the guard, "I know you're smuggling something. For a year it's driven me crazy. It's all I can think about... I can't get sleep, the kids are getting neglected...heck, even the dog senses I'm beginning to lose it! Between you and me, just what are you smuggling?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jose sips his beer, smiles and replies: "Bicycles..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-5635097124846824104?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/KGyZhAs06Gs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/5635097124846824104/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/mexican.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5635097124846824104?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5635097124846824104?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/KGyZhAs06Gs/mexican.html" title="The Mexican" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/mexican.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQFQXk-cSp7ImA9WxNTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-5143453173164259742</id><published>2009-08-22T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T01:38:30.759-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-22T01:38:30.759-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Woman Jokes" /><title>Who is Superior?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H6ft_eC4DYlkqgfhf0C9eyqsEyY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H6ft_eC4DYlkqgfhf0C9eyqsEyY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H6ft_eC4DYlkqgfhf0C9eyqsEyY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H6ft_eC4DYlkqgfhf0C9eyqsEyY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Bischoff, one of the leading anatomists of Europe, thrived in the 1870s. He&lt;br /&gt;carefully measured brain weights, and after many years' accumulation of much&lt;br /&gt;data he observed that the average weight of a man's brain was 1350 grams, that&lt;br /&gt;of a woman only 1250 grams. This at once, he argued, was infallible proof of&lt;br /&gt;the mental superiority of men over women. Throughout his life, he defended this&lt;br /&gt;hypothesis with the conviction of a zealot. Being the true scientist, he&lt;br /&gt;specified in his will that his own brain be added to his impressive collection.&lt;br /&gt;The postmortem examination elicited the interesting fact that his own brain&lt;br /&gt;weighed only 1245 grams. - Scientific American [March 1992]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-5143453173164259742?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/clYnf2ntVaI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/5143453173164259742/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/who-is-superior.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5143453173164259742?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/5143453173164259742?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/clYnf2ntVaI/who-is-superior.html" title="Who is Superior?" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/who-is-superior.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEBRXczeCp7ImA9WxNTGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-3542126547370837574</id><published>2009-08-20T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T23:37:34.980-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-20T23:37:34.980-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marriage Jokes" /><title>Marriage Quotes</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Iv072BO0cgiFI1_LT0pUefF8YGo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Iv072BO0cgiFI1_LT0pUefF8YGo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Iv072BO0cgiFI1_LT0pUefF8YGo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Iv072BO0cgiFI1_LT0pUefF8YGo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The difference between marriage and death? Dead people are free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband who wants a happy marriage should learn to keep his mouth shut and his checkbook open. -- Groucho Marx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The marriage of Marxism and feminism has been like the marriage of husband and wife depicted in English common law: Marxism and feminism are one, and that one is Marxism. --Heidi Hartmann [The Unhappy Marriage of Marxism and Feminism]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most happy marriage I can imagine to myself would be the union of a deaf man to a blind woman. -- S. T. Coleridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only one of your children who does not grow up and move away is your husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theory used to be you marry an older man because they are more mature. The new theory is that men don't mature. So you might as well marry a younger one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a way of transferring funds that is even faster than electronic banking. It's called marriage. -- James Holt McGavran&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To keep your marriage brimming&lt;br /&gt;With love in the marriage cup,&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you're wrong, admit it,&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you're right, shut up. -- Nash&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-3542126547370837574?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/T_A88YF3PuM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/3542126547370837574/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/marriage-quotes.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/3542126547370837574?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/3542126547370837574?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/T_A88YF3PuM/marriage-quotes.html" title="Marriage Quotes" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/marriage-quotes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMARnk4fSp7ImA9WxNTF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-490974107065114060</id><published>2009-08-20T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T00:14:07.735-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-20T00:14:07.735-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gender Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Woman Jokes" /><title>Clever Woman</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1biiPTm4UsJyHP1kaW8yDjrIFcI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1biiPTm4UsJyHP1kaW8yDjrIFcI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1biiPTm4UsJyHP1kaW8yDjrIFcI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1biiPTm4UsJyHP1kaW8yDjrIFcI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;A Woman was out golfing one day when she hit the &lt;br /&gt;ball into the woods. &lt;br /&gt;She went into the woods to look for it and found a frog &lt;br /&gt;in a trap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frog said to her, 'If you release me from this trap, I &lt;br /&gt;will grant you three wishes.' &lt;br /&gt;The woman freed the frog, and the frog said, &lt;br /&gt;'Thank you, but I failed to mention that there was a condition to your wishes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you wish for, your husband will get ten times of it!' The woman &lt;br /&gt;said, 'That's okay.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For her first wish, she wanted to be the most &lt;br /&gt;beautiful woman in the world. &lt;br /&gt;The frog warned her, 'You do realize that this &lt;br /&gt;wish will also make your husband the most handsome man in the world, an Adonis &lt;br /&gt;whom women will flock to'. &lt;br /&gt;The woman replied, 'That's okay, because I will &lt;br /&gt;be the most beautiful woman and he will have eyes only for me.' &lt;br /&gt;So, KAZAM- &lt;br /&gt;she's the most beautiful Woman in the world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For her second wish, she &lt;br /&gt;wanted to be the richest woman in the world. &lt;br /&gt;The frog said, 'That will make &lt;br /&gt;your husband the richest man in the world. And he will be ten times richer than &lt;br /&gt;you. ' &lt;br /&gt;The woman said, 'That's okay, because what's mine is his and what's &lt;br /&gt;his is mine.' &lt;br /&gt;So, KAZAM- she's the richest woman in the world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;br /&gt;frog then inquired about her third wish, and she answered, 'I'd like to have a &lt;br /&gt;mild heart attack.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-490974107065114060?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/27bEg-C4vis" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/490974107065114060/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/clever-woman.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/490974107065114060?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/490974107065114060?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/27bEg-C4vis/clever-woman.html" title="Clever Woman" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/clever-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcBSHo-fSp7ImA9WxNTFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-1958589448512090464</id><published>2009-08-18T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T23:07:39.455-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-18T23:07:39.455-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gender Jokes" /><title>How Man Got what he Got!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H8kIyblMSNR8Dt8Zs-FtsL_zNns/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H8kIyblMSNR8Dt8Zs-FtsL_zNns/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H8kIyblMSNR8Dt8Zs-FtsL_zNns/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H8kIyblMSNR8Dt8Zs-FtsL_zNns/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="textstyle3"&gt;&lt;p&gt;God was just about done creating humans, but he had two parts left over. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;He couldn't decide how to split them between Adam and Eve so He thought He might just as well ask them. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;He told them one of the things He had left was a thing that would allow the owner to pee while standing up. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"It's a very handy thing," God told them,"and I was wondering if either one of you had a preference for it."&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Well, Adam jumped up and down and begged, "Oh please give that to me! I'd love to be able to do that! It seems like just the sort of thing a man should have. Please! Pleeease! Give it to me!" On and on he went like an excited little boy. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Eve just smiled and told God that if Adam really wanted it so badly, he could have it. So God gave Adam the thing that allowed him to pee standing up. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Adam was so excited he just started whizzing all over the place - first on the side of a rock, then he wrote his name in the sand, and then he tried to see if he could hit a stump ten feed away - laughing with delight all the while. &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;God and Eve watched him with amusement and then God said to Eve, "Well, I guess you're kind of stuck with the last thing I have left." &lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"What's it called?" asked Eve.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Brains," said God.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-1958589448512090464?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/DRqUyHeoRzc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/1958589448512090464/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/how-man-got-what-he-got.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1958589448512090464?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1958589448512090464?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/DRqUyHeoRzc/how-man-got-what-he-got.html" title="How Man Got what he Got!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/how-man-got-what-he-got.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMCSHwyfyp7ImA9WxNTFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1089511928388114858.post-1357290313567860319</id><published>2009-08-17T23:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T23:21:09.297-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-17T23:21:09.297-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Awesome Pics" /><title>Royal Wedding Cakes of Kuwait!</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MwBPt5LWCd6j3T0z8bMvOj-hRxM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MwBPt5LWCd6j3T0z8bMvOj-hRxM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MwBPt5LWCd6j3T0z8bMvOj-hRxM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MwBPt5LWCd6j3T0z8bMvOj-hRxM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopISMDEBcI/AAAAAAAAApI/auYzczq72Mw/s1600-h/royal6.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopISMDEBcI/AAAAAAAAApI/auYzczq72Mw/s400/royal6.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184982901654978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIJrd6kVI/AAAAAAAAApA/09uNMiXENk4/s1600-h/royal5.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIJrd6kVI/AAAAAAAAApA/09uNMiXENk4/s400/royal5.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184836716958034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIJQ7GtlI/AAAAAAAAAo4/a7Sl5dSlpYE/s1600-h/royal4.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIJQ7GtlI/AAAAAAAAAo4/a7Sl5dSlpYE/s400/royal4.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184829591631442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopII2ePrZI/AAAAAAAAAow/Ea1C6tEKhZ8/s1600-h/royal3.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopII2ePrZI/AAAAAAAAAow/Ea1C6tEKhZ8/s400/royal3.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184822491262354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIIWPLqUI/AAAAAAAAAoo/oFFN99j7dzY/s1600-h/royal2.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIIWPLqUI/AAAAAAAAAoo/oFFN99j7dzY/s400/royal2.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184813838149954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIHgNdjNI/AAAAAAAAAog/x4emApHRWFE/s1600-h/royal1.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopIHgNdjNI/AAAAAAAAAog/x4emApHRWFE/s400/royal1.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371184799335419090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1089511928388114858-1357290313567860319?l=www.insplits.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~4/UH701EcLB-Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.insplits.com/feeds/1357290313567860319/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/royal-wedding-cakes-of-kuwait.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1357290313567860319?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1089511928388114858/posts/default/1357290313567860319?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyJokespicsstories/~3/UH701EcLB-Q/royal-wedding-cakes-of-kuwait.html" title="Royal Wedding Cakes of Kuwait!" /><author><name>Rags</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11039588026728146497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="05326305970396643822" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o5Ej5LxjeaY/SopISMDEBcI/AAAAAAAAApI/auYzczq72Mw/s72-c/royal6.jpe" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.insplits.com/2009/08/royal-wedding-cakes-of-kuwait.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
