<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 09 Oct 2024 02:42:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>humor</category><category>humor dog kids children funny</category><category>car wash</category><category>cars</category><category>charity</category><category>diet</category><category>donate</category><category>food</category><category>jokes</category><category>library</category><category>love struck</category><category>non-profit</category><category>obese</category><category>preteens</category><category>silly</category><category>smitten</category><category>vehicle</category><title>Humorous Observations!! </title><description>The less I talk and the more I listen, the more I learn about others. This has lead to my new hobby: &lt;b&gt;People Watching.&lt;/b&gt; It&#39;s interesting how amusing people can be when they aren&#39;t even trying.&#xa;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&#xa;Here are some &lt;i&gt;humorous observations&lt;/i&gt; from my hobby. Enjoy!&#xa;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-448276681290175727</guid><pubDate>Thu, 17 Apr 2014 09:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-04-17T05:55:19.712-04:00</atom:updated><title>Doctor&#39;s Visit</title><description>&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;(Originally posted October 22, 2011)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting in the waiting room of my doctor&#39;s office I overheard something humorous:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was waiting for her appointment with the doctor, with her young son, a lad of not more than five seated next to her. The boy was preoccupied with the though that the doctor would give his mom an injection. The mother, on the other hand, was frantically filling out the necessary forms before being seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Mom, are you gonna git a needle,&quot; asked the child. He seemed so afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I don&#39;t know. But I&#39;m busy right now. Leave me alone.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;But mom, will it hurt?&quot; he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman ignored her son&#39;s question and continued answering the questions on the form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Mom, is it gonna be in your arm, or in your leg?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I don&#39;t know if I&#39;m I&#39;m gonna get a needle, or where it will be.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;But mom,&quot; the child continued. &quot;Is it gonna hurt?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;If you don&#39;t leave me alone, I&#39;m going to tell the doctor to give you a shot!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child climbed into the seat next to his mother and never spoke another word...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2014/04/doctors-visit.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-3223081039417949391</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Aug 2013 20:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-20T17:16:15.712-04:00</atom:updated><title>Butt Crack</title><description>&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;(originally posted October 10, 2011)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
While sitting in the waiting room at a clinic I witnessed a humorous event:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There was a hefty woman in her twenties sitting opposite me, wearing jeans that appeared to be two sizes too small. She was sitting sideways in her chair speaking with another lady. Weather she knew, or not, her pants were not covering her butt; she was revealing more than anyone should see.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Seated close to her was a young man who just couldn&#39;t resist temptation. I watched as he blew a stream of air from his mouth toward the woman&#39;s visible crack. At first, there was no response from the woman. So, he tried again, and again. Finally, the woman felt the breeze and pulled up her pants. However, the next time she shifted in her seat, her crack reappeared. And again the man began to blow toward the crack.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The woman, sensing the breeze again, stood and adjusted her pants to cover the crack of her butt. She sat back down and continued conversing with the other lady. Unfortunately, when she sat down, she once again exposed herself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At this point the young man was fighting back laughter, his grin as wide as the Grand Canyon. And he wasn&#39;t finished tormenting the woman, yet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again he blew a stream of air toward the visible crack. This got the woman&#39;s attention. She turned and began looking for the source of the draft. The guy quickly turn away, declaring his innocent.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The woman&#39;s name was called for service and she stood up and started walking away. The guy said, &quot;Hey girl, when you&#39;re done, come out to my truck.&quot; The woman turned and looked at the guy. He added, &quot;I&#39;ve got some spackle for that crack!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She was not amused. But I was!&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2013/08/butt-crack.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-5831585802576764242</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Aug 2013 06:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-12T02:39:11.078-04:00</atom:updated><title>Clean Ride</title><description>&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Originally posted December 9, 2011)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A fellow co-worker told this story:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He had just started dating a girl and didn&#39;t know anything about her family. Too bad for him. Had he know more about the girls&#39; father..., well, keep reading.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Determined to make a good impression he decided to do something special for the girl. He asked to borrow her car. When asked why, he smiled and said, &quot;I&#39;ve got a surprise for you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He immediately drove the car to his place, just a few miles away. He pulled out a garden hose, bucket, car soap, sponge, shammy cloth, and hand-washed the car. When the car was clean and dry, he was exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After changing clothes he returned the car. Upon arriving, he asked the girl to come outside. She complied.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Surprise!&quot; he shouted. The girl was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Did you clean this car yourself?&quot; she asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Sure did. And dried it with a shammy too!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, that was a nice gesture, but there is something you need to know. My dad owns the automatic car-wash down the street. I get my car washed for free.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, the guy was speechless... &lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2013/08/clean-ride.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-4543187388249131022</guid><pubDate>Sat, 28 Jan 2012 00:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-27T19:36:16.256-05:00</atom:updated><title>I Will Follow you</title><description>Today a young lady was riding my bus but didn&#39;t know how to get to her intended destination. While I was driving, she approached me and asked how to get to Greenbelt, Maryland. I told her about a metro bus that could take her there, but I didn&#39;t know about a train.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another bus passenger, overhearing the conversation, interjected with specific instructions on how to get to Greenbelt via the train. While giving instructions to the lost passenger, the knowledgeable passenger stated that she, too, was going to Greenbelt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The lost passenger said, &quot;Then I&#39;ll just follow you. I&#39;m from &lt;span id=&quot;taw&quot; style=&quot;margin-right: 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ac&quot;&gt;New Orleans. We don&#39;t have rail systems like here in Baltimore. Heck, we only have street cars for transportation.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;taw&quot; style=&quot;margin-right: 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ac&quot;&gt;The bus erupted in laughter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;taw&quot; style=&quot;margin-right: 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ac&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;taw&quot; style=&quot;margin-right: 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ac&quot;&gt;Welcome to the big city, traveler. I hope you get to your destination.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;taw&quot; style=&quot;margin-right: 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ac&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-will-follow-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-87443997789109716</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Dec 2011 01:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-23T20:36:02.094-05:00</atom:updated><title>Daddy is a Pilot</title><description>I overheard this story while driving my bus:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A flight attendant was talking to another passenger, speaking of her son.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;My boy is seven but doesn&#39;t seem to understand just how important my job is. His father is an airline pilot, and I am a flight attendant. In the past, when we have flown as a family, I have always been off duty while his father is flying the plane. So, my son saw his dad as &lt;i&gt;working&lt;/i&gt;, while I&#39;m simply a passenger.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;As Christmas approached, my husband and I were discussing who would take vacation time while the other worked. My son interjected, &#39;Daddy has an important job! &lt;b&gt;He &lt;/b&gt;flies the airplane! You just have fun with the people on the pane while daddy is working! Daddy can&#39;t take a vacation.&#39;&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If this young lad only knew what his mom tolerated during flights, I&#39;m sure he&#39;d have a different opinion of his mom&#39;s job.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh, to be young again...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/12/daddy-is-pilot.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-8987745325187829284</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 Dec 2011 00:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-21T19:32:55.921-05:00</atom:updated><title>Big Bus</title><description>My new job is driving a shuttle bus at Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. This job has placed me in a position to witness wonderful, humorous observations!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here is one I witnessed today.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A young boy boarded my bus with his mom and dad, having just arrived on a flight from visiting his grandparents. His mom was talking to him about the &lt;i&gt;wonderful&lt;/i&gt; trip they had: The nice visit with mom-mom and pop-pop; the airplane ride; the nice Christmas gift he received, etc, etc.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, the child, being a child, was only interested in the moment. He was terribly excited by riding on a bus. My bus!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Mom,&quot; he said. &quot;When I get bigger, I want to drive a bus just like this one!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sorry, mom. I&#39;m sure your son enjoyed his vacation with your parents. But nothing beats a big bus for a small child...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/12/big-bus.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-4181586355323120149</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 Dec 2011 21:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-09T16:44:24.690-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">car wash</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">cars</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor dog kids children funny</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">jokes</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">silly</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">vehicle</category><title>Clean Ride</title><description>A fellow co-worker told this story:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He had just started dating a girl and didn&#39;t know anything about her family. Too bad for him. Had he know more about the girls&#39; father..., well, keep reading.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Determined to make a good impression he decided to do something special for the girl. He asked to borrow her car. When asked why, he smiled and said, &quot;I&#39;ve got a surprise for you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He immediately drove the car to his place, just a few miles away. He pulled out a garden hose, bucket, car soap, sponge, shammy cloth, and hand-washed the car. When the car was clean and dry, he was exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After changing clothes he returned the car. Upon arriving, he asked the girl to come outside. She complied.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Surprise!&quot; he shouted. The girl was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Did you clean this car yourself?&quot; she asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Sure did. And dried it with a shammy too!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, that was a nice gesture, but there is something you need to know. My dad owns the automatic car-wash down the street. I get my car washed for free.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, the guy was speechless...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/12/clean-ride.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-3207789195326144369</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 Nov 2011 01:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-22T23:32:43.743-05:00</atom:updated><title>Santa is Watching</title><description>&lt;div&gt;This evening I did some window shopping at White Marsh Mall. Of course,  while there, I participated in my favorite hobby: People Watching. And I&#39;m glad  I did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I exited one of the many stores I visited, I saw a young lad monkeying  around with the handrail of a staircase. His mother snatched him by his hand and  said, &quot;You had better be have yourself. Santa is watching you.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the two of them walked away, I followed. The little boy was holding his&amp;nbsp;mother&#39;s hand and walking beside her. After a short distance he began turning  and looking over his shoulder. He stumbled a few times because he was not  looking forward. The mother, finally tired of her son&#39;s sloppy gate, asked,  &quot;What are doing?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;I lookin&#39; for Sana Claws. I want him see me being GOOD!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/11/santa-is-watching.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-7560517581015998789</guid><pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2011 02:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-09T20:09:57.273-05:00</atom:updated><title>Bus Ride</title><description>&lt;div&gt;Today, while riding a city transit bus, I was amused by a conversation  between a mother, her son, and the bus driver.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mother boarded the bus with  her young son, a child not more than five, and instructed the child to be seated  next to her. He complied.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the bus ride, however, the child became attracted by the  yellow, &quot;stop request&quot; strip beside him. He gently touched the strip. Nothing  happened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His mother warned him not to touch the strip or the bus driver would become  upset. The child, still curious about the stop request strip, began slapping it  with his open hand. Suddenly, the annunciator sounded, &quot;stop requested.&quot; The  mom, with fear in her voice said to her son, &quot;See, now you&#39;re in trouble!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The little boy quickly sat down and became quiet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As they exited the bus I heard the child say to the driver, &quot;I&#39;m sorry I  touched that yellow thing. Can I still ride your bus again?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Sure you can, little man,&quot; answered the driver.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Thank you mister bus driver,&quot; replied the boy. &quot;I won&#39;t play with that  yellow thing anymore. It might make you mad at me.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/11/bus-ride.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-1142393198225801877</guid><pubDate>Sun, 23 Oct 2011 03:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-10-24T22:27:02.938-04:00</atom:updated><title>Doctor&#39;s Visit</title><description>Bad news: I have bronchitis. Good news: My doctor  prescribed antibiotics. Better news: While in the waiting room, I overheard  something humorous:&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;A woman was waiting for her appointment with the doctor, with her young  son, a lad of not more than five seated next to her. The boy was preoccupied  with the though that the doctor would give his mom an injection. The mother, on  the other hand, was frantically filling out the necessary forms before being  seen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;Mom, are you gonna git a needle,&quot; asked the child. He seemed so  afraid.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;I don&#39;t know. But I&#39;m busy right now. Leave me alone.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;But mom, will it hurt?&quot; he asked.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The woman ignored her son&#39;s question and continued answering the questions  on the form.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;Mom, is it gonna be in your arm, or in your leg?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;I don&#39;t know if I&#39;m I&#39;m gonna get a needle, or where it will be.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;But mom,&quot; the child continued. &quot;Is it gonna hurt?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;If you don&#39;t leave me alone, I&#39;m going to tell the doctor to give you a  shot!!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The child climbed into the seat next to his mother and never spoke another  word...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/10/bad-news-i-have-bronchitis.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-6391063977879116817</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Oct 2011 03:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-10-13T16:30:35.545-04:00</atom:updated><title>Butt Crack</title><description>&lt;div&gt;While sitting in the waiting room at a clinic I witnessed a humorous  event:&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;There was a hefty woman in her twenties sitting opposite me, wearing jeans  that appeared to be two sizes too small. She was sitting sideways in her chair  speaking with another lady. Weather she knew, or not, her pants were not  covering her butt; she was revealing more than anyone should see.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Seated close to her was a young man who just couldn&#39;t resist temptation. I  watched as he blew a stream of air from his mouth toward the woman&#39;s visible  crack. At first, there was no response from the woman. So, he tried again, and  again. Finally, the woman felt the breeze and pulled up her pants. However, the  next time she shifted in her seat, her crack reappeared. And again the man began  to blow toward the crack.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The woman, sensing the breeze again, stood and adjusted her pants to cover  the crack of her butt. She sat back down and continued conversing with the other  lady. Unfortunately, when she sat down, she once again exposed herself.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;At this point the young man was fighting back laughter, his grin as wide as  the Grand Canyon. And he wasn&#39;t finished tormenting the woman, yet.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Again he blew a stream of air toward the visible crack. This got the  woman&#39;s attention. She turned and began looking for the source of the draft. The  guy quickly turn away, declaring his innocent.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The woman&#39;s name was called for service and she stood up and started  walking away. The guy said, &quot;Hey girl, when you&#39;re done, come out to my truck.&quot;  The woman turned and looked at the guy. He added, &quot;I&#39;ve got some spackle for  that crack!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;She was not amused. But I was!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/10/while-sitting-in-waiting-room-at-clinic.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-8996646681948716178</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Sep 2011 08:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-01T21:11:46.703-04:00</atom:updated><title>Finders Keepers</title><description>&lt;div&gt;How would you explain to a child the concept of making a contribution by  throwing coins into a fountain? Well, the following is a conversation between a  child, who believed he had found the coins, and his mother, who tried to set him  straight.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;While visiting a local mall I saw a small child gathering coins from a  fountain and placing them in his pocket. He seemed delighted at what he had  discovered; the smile on his face was as broad as the Grand Canyon.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Soon, his older sibling approached and told the young lad that he couldn&#39;t  keep the money.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;Yes I can!&quot; he said, &quot;Finders keepers, losers creepers!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The older child went to retrieve their mother, sitting not far away. When  she arrived at the fountain she&amp;nbsp;scolded her young son and told him he could not  take money from the water, and had to put it back.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;But mom, finders keepers, losers creepers!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;I found the  money. It&#39;s mine!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Mom tried to explain that the money in the fountain was not lost, but that  it was &lt;em&gt;deliberately&lt;/em&gt; tossed into the water as a donation. The child just wouldn&#39;t  accept the concept.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;No, mom, I found it! Finders keepers, losers creepers!&quot; Mom  obviously fought back laughter at her child&#39;s miss quote of the  expression. She told her child that he had to return all his ill-gotten gains to  the fountain. &lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Reluctantly, he emptied his pocket of the coins he had retrieved and tossed  them back into the fountain. Mom then took the child by the hand and  began leading him away. The child looked back at the fountain and said, &quot;Goodbye  money. I hope nobody else finds you.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/09/finders-keepers.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-47798704248319530</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Aug 2011 02:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-26T00:10:39.057-04:00</atom:updated><title>Potty Trained</title><description>&lt;div&gt;This humorous observation was told to me by my mother. It happened to her&amp;nbsp;while she was walking  her dog, a Bichon Frise (looks a bit like a poodle).&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Mom just finished bagging her dog&#39;s poo when a little girl asked her, &quot;Does  you dog ever poop in the house?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;My mom replied, &quot;No, she always goes outside.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;GOOD!&quot; said the child, enthusiastically. &quot;This is the kind of dog I&#39;ll  tell my mom to get me!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/08/potty-trained.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-4521676374738398299</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-19T19:54:10.730-04:00</atom:updated><title>Milo Hates Skateboards</title><description>My people watching hobby has lead me to believe that the most humorous events  occur between children and animal. Here is another example:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was  sitting on my back deck with my Yorkshire Terrier, Milo, when two kids passed by  my yard. They were riding skateboards, which caused Milo to bark. He hates  skateboards. I suppose it&#39;s the sound that makes him bark.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, one  child stopped riding his board, came to the end of my yard and  asked, &quot;Is your  dog mean?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;No,&quot; I replied, &quot;He just doesn&#39;t like  skateboards.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Why not?&quot; he inquired. &quot;Did he get hurt by a  skateboard?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
I assured the child that Milo had not been injured by a  skateboard, but that he has always barked at the sound they make while being  ridden. The little boy&amp;nbsp;then asked, &quot;Can I make him not be afraid of my  skateboard?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;How are you goin&#39; to do that?&quot; I asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;Maybe if he smells my board he won&#39;t bark at it anymore,&quot; he added.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;So, I walked Milo over to the boy and his skateboard to see what would happen.  Milo first smelled the boy, then his board, then the boy again. The boy began  petting Milo and talking to him.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;See, Milo, my skateboard won&#39;t hurt you! You don&#39;t have to be afraid  anymore!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Milo began tugging his leash, pulling toward a nearby pole. I walked him to  the pole where he relieved himself. At this point, Milo was more interested in  smelling the ground than paying attention to the boy. So, the boy said goodbye  to me and Milo and started skating away.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;As soon as Milo heard the wheels rolling on the concrete he started barking  again. As the boy skated away he shouted, &quot;I&#39;ll come back tomorrow and give him  another lesson! He needs it!!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/08/milo-hates-skateboards.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-6422330710331732100</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Aug 2011 04:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-12T00:44:42.576-04:00</atom:updated><title>MVA Experience</title><description>&lt;div&gt;Today I visited the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration. Usually it&#39;s not  a very nice place to spend an hour, but I made the best of it by observing the  people around me.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;There was a teenage girl waiting to be called to obtain her first driver&#39;s  license. She brought three girlfriends with her--I suppose for moral support. I  had a gut feeling that she would provide humor, and I was not wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When the girl&#39;s number was called she headed for the booth for service. I  watched as she fumbled to provide the proper documentation required. She was  asked to sit and look at the camera for her photo to be taken. But before the  camera could snap her photo, one of her girlfriends approached, handed her a  cell phone, and said, &quot;It&#39;s Danny! He needs to talk to you!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The MVA employee was not amused. She pointed to the posted sign: &quot;Please  place cell phones and pagers in vibrate mode.&quot; The MVA employee then said to the  girl, &quot;Do you want your license, or not?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Sure I do. But can I have a minute? This may be important!&quot; The girl took  the phone and began a conversation with Danny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The employee, obviously annoyed, snapped the girl&#39;s photo in mid  sentence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Wait! I wasn&#39;t ready!&quot; said the girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Too bad,&quot; replied the employee. &quot;You get what you get.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Minutes later the girl&#39;s license was ready. She looked at her license and  was obviously disappointed at what she saw. She then said to her friend that  handed her the phone, &quot;Why did you do that? I broke up with Danny a week  ago!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oops!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/08/mva-experience.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-932568874467823463</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Aug 2011 05:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-09T01:16:41.233-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor dog kids children funny</category><title>Kids Are Funny</title><description>&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;Children are the best source for humor; they say the funniest things.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Today I was walking my German Shepherd dog, Oberon, past a playground in my  neighborhood. There were some children there playing. Of course the  kids wanted to pet Oberon so I stopped and let them.&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;One child, a little boy about four-years-old, tried encouraging Oberon to  speak. &quot;Bark! Bark! Come on Oberon, bark real loud like this, ruff, ruff, ruff.&quot;  Oberon remained quiet. The kid continued&amp;nbsp;encouraging my dog to bark, but to no avail.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, in frustration, the kid&amp;nbsp;turned to me and said, &quot;I think your dog has a sore throat.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/08/kids-are-funny.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-4852788421454059301</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Aug 2011 00:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-06T20:52:31.952-04:00</atom:updated><title>Cell Phone Blues</title><description>I was sitting on my front porch enjoying a fine cigar and glass of iced  tea. A cluster of teenage boys were walking in the street--despite there  being perfectly good sidewalks--and each had a cell phone. All  were fixated, either texting or browsing the web; none of them were paying  attention to where they were walking. Each in their own little world, oblivious  to their surroundings. Big mistake.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;One boy was walking rather close to the parked cars and apparently didn&#39;t  see the one with an open door. The occupant of the car was sitting in the  driver&#39;s seat, door wide open, and window down. I watched as the boy approached  the outside of the door. Surely he will look up before bumping into it, I  thought. Nope! He walked directly into it and banged his knee. And here&#39;s the  funny part: his phone flew from his hand straight through the open window.  Perfect shot. Two points.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;NO WAY!&quot; he shouted, &quot;my phone!&quot; He didn&#39;t seem concerned about his knee.  He limped around the door and retrieved his precious toy from the street. The  occupant asked the boy if he was hurt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&quot;I ain&#39;t hurtin&#39;, but my phone&#39;s scratched up!&quot;&amp;nbsp;Then he said something real funny:&amp;nbsp;&quot;Why didn&#39;t you close your door when you saw me  comin&#39;?&quot; What? Hello! Why weren&#39;t &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; paying attention to where &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; were  walking, moron!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;The boy rubbed his knee while walking away. The car&#39;s occupant closed the  door and started the engine. And I sat on my porch, chuckling and enjoying a  fine cigar and glass of iced tea...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/08/cell-phone-blues.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-3031474662204096855</guid><pubDate>Sat, 30 Jul 2011 04:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-30T00:48:07.473-04:00</atom:updated><title>Dog Gone It</title><description>While walking my dog this evening I happened upon an elderly woman also  walking her dog. My canine was interested in the scent left behind by the  other dog, so we followed at a safe distance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After a few minutes,  the lady&#39;s pooch had to go..., um.., he had to go number two. And so he did.  The lady praised her pet, saying, &quot;Good boy, you poo-poo. You are such a  good boy, you go poo-poo!&quot; As she spoke childishly to her dog, she bent over  and retrieved the poo-poo with a small plastic bag. She turned the bag  outside-in and tightly tired a double knot. No one was getting that bag  open. Ever!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The lady and her dog walk just a few more yards when the  unexpected happened: The good boy poo-pooed again! But the lady didn&#39;t have  another bag. She asked me if I had a spare. Not only did I not have a &lt;em&gt;spare&lt;/em&gt;,  I didn&#39;t have a one &lt;em&gt;(my canine pooed earlier)&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Desperately wanting to  be a good citizen, and not leave the mess behind, she began searching for  something to pickup the poo. But, before walking away, she placed her hat on  the ground to mark the spot. No, &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; in it. But right next to it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As  it turned out, leaving her hat on the ground next to steaming dog poo-poo  was not a good idea. After the lady walked away, an unleashed dog trotted  over to the area and..., yes, you guessed it -- relieved his bladder on the  nice lady&#39;s hat. And yes, I laughed. Hey, you would have too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t  know if the lady ever found a bag for the poo. But I sure hope she didn&#39;t  put her hat back on her head...&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/07/dog-gone-it.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-2808478067222247920</guid><pubDate>Wed, 06 Jul 2011 06:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-06T02:13:51.568-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">charity</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">donate</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">non-profit</category><title>Donate Without Paying</title><description>There is no humor in this blog entry; this entry is of a serious note:&lt;br /&gt;
I have  established a web site for the sole purpose of raising donations for the  &lt;strong&gt;American Cancer Society&lt;/strong&gt;. And you can help &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; spending one cent! &lt;u&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://astore.amazon.com/humorouobserv-20/about&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;Please follow this link to learn how&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Take a&amp;nbsp;minute to pass this on to everyone you  know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Together..., we do make a difference.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/07/donate-without-paying.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-8316335216245401393</guid><pubDate>Tue, 14 Jun 2011 02:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-13T22:37:18.979-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">library</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">love struck</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">preteens</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">smitten</category><title>Justice Served!</title><description>I was sitting in the public library reading and&amp;nbsp;enjoying my hobby: people watching. Half way across the room set a group of preteen boys. They were admiring a group of young girls seated&amp;nbsp;not far from them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One boy was obviously smitten by one particular girl and tried desperately to gain her attention. He apparently lacked the social skills required to meet her.&amp;nbsp;The boy would say her name aloud, then turn back to his book pretending he wasn&#39;t the one saying her name. Of course, the girl would look up each time&amp;nbsp;to see who was calling her. This continued for several minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then, another boy at the table offered a trash ball and encouraged the smitten boy to toss it in the young lady&#39;s direction. He did. And the trash ball hit the girl directly on top of her head. All the boys laughed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The girl, however, was &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; amused. She stood up, retrieved the wad of paper, and proceeded to walk toward the group of boys. The boys, one by one, pointed at the boy who threw the paper ball; they ratted him out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The girl walked directly up to the boy and with one hand smashed the wad of paper on the table in front of him. Then, with her other hand, she slapped the kid in the back of his head. The slap was so hard it echoed through the library. As his peers laughed as hard as they could, the boy receiving the slap turned an interesting shade of red.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The girl didn&#39;t say a word. She returned to her female friends where she&amp;nbsp;received a round of high-five.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is there a moral to this story? If you have one, please comment.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/06/justice-served.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-4730090644278894633</guid><pubDate>Wed, 01 Jun 2011 09:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-01T05:01:02.969-04:00</atom:updated><title>Elderly Couple</title><description>So, there I was strolling through Wal-Mart, minding my own business, when a  humorous event occurred: An elderly couple was trying to decide whether to buy  pretzels or potato chips. The woman had a bag of chips in her hand and said to  her husband, &quot;Let&#39;s get these. I&#39;m tired of pretzels.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The husband  replied, &quot;Chips will gum up your dentures.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;If I keep eatin&#39; those hard  pretzels I&#39;m gonna &lt;em&gt;break&lt;/em&gt; my dentures!&quot; said the wife.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well then,&quot;  snapped her husband, &quot;take your dentures out and &lt;em&gt;suck&lt;/em&gt; on the pretzels!&quot; It was  obvious the old man wanted pretzels and intended to stand his ground.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The  wife inquired, &quot;Why don&#39;t you want potato chips?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;They gum up &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt;  dentures!&quot; he said.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, take &#39;em out and suck on them,&quot; she  responded.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The battle lines were drawn: He desired pretzels and she  craved potato chips. But who would win?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I left the snacks isle and  continued my shopping. Twenty minutes later I arrived at the checkout and  proceeded to place my items on the conveyer belt. In line behind me I heard the  familiar voices of the elderly couple.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;But I don&#39;t want to take out my  dentures just to eat a few damn chips,&quot; the man stated as the dispute  continued.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Without missing a beat, his wife replied, &quot;Harold, I just  remembered, we need &quot;Poligrip®.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/06/elderly-couple.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-5972915347120209969</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 May 2011 01:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-01T04:47:53.575-04:00</atom:updated><title>No! Don&#39;t throw it away!</title><description>Today I cleaned my backyard and took the junk to the county landfill. The attendant at the landfill directed me to back into slot #4 to unload of my trash.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The vehicle parked next to me in slot #3 was occupied by a woman and a toddler. The little boy stood quietly next to the woman--&lt;em&gt;I assume was his mother&lt;/em&gt;--while she threw item after item into the dumpster. That was until the mother removed from her car a toy belonging to the little boy. It was a Big Wheel: a low riding tricycle made mostly of plastic. Before mom had a chance to heave the Big Wheel over the railing the child screamed, &lt;strong&gt;&quot;NO! NO! Mommy, NO!! I want my Big Wheel!&quot;&lt;/strong&gt; He was having a fit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The boy&#39;s mother said, &quot;But it&#39;s broken. Look, this wheel is split and you can&#39;t ride it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The child insisted, &lt;strong&gt;&quot;No! Don&#39;t throw it away! We can get glue and fix it!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The toy was obviously junk, but the child persisted. The argument continued back and forth for a solid minute, if not longer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;OK!, OK!, we&#39;ll take it back home,&quot; said mom, as she placed it on the tailgate. &quot;Now get in the car.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She buckled her son in his seat on the passenger side and closed the door. Then she proceeded to the drivers door...via the rear of the car. As she passed the tailgate, with one swift move, she flung the toy into the dumpster and slammed the tailgate closed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I looked at the child, expecting an angry reaction. But the kid was clueless. Mom successfully pulled a fast-one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hummm..., I wonder what excuse she offered her son when they arrived home?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/05/today-i-cleaned-my-backyard-and-took.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-3130930197924854647</guid><pubDate>Sat, 21 May 2011 03:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-05-21T01:28:51.779-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">diet</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">food</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">obese</category><title>Too Many Calories</title><description>&lt;div&gt;First, a discloser: I hold nothing against obese people. Actually, I feel bad for them. That said, I hope you are not offended by this blog entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon I was standing in line at McDonalds and overheard a costumer placing her order. This woman was huge! So huge her picture should appear next to the word &quot;obese&quot; in the dictionary. I&#39;m talking 300 pounds plus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She should have ordered a salad &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; dressing, but no. Instead she ordered a Big Mac, a cheese burger, large fries, a chocolate sundae, and to wash it down..., a large &lt;em&gt;diet&lt;/em&gt; coke. A &quot;diet&quot; coke! As if that was going to help her lose weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may think of this woman whenever I see a diet beverage for a long, long time to come...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/05/too-many-calories.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-8958842648089242896</guid><pubDate>Wed, 18 May 2011 18:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-05-18T14:30:43.788-04:00</atom:updated><title>It&#39;s a Minivan</title><description>I didn&#39;t observe the following first hand but it is humorous. Nearly  twenty years ago my sister, Angela told this story. To this day, whenever I see  a child riding in a minivan her story comes to mind: &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Angela had a girlfriend who drove a minivan. One day she and her  daughter, Sharon went for a ride in that van. Keep in mind, Sharon was no older  than three at the time. After a short ride my sister asked her daughter,  &quot;Sharon, did you like riding in that &lt;em&gt;minivan&lt;/em&gt;?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yep,&quot; she answered, &quot;Mommy, does she have a &lt;em&gt;Mickey&lt;/em&gt;-van too?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-minivan.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-826682335415225279.post-3204477937593255461</guid><pubDate>Mon, 16 May 2011 21:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-05-16T17:41:43.096-04:00</atom:updated><title>Out of the Mouths of Babes</title><description>&lt;div&gt;While sitting on my front porch I saw a lady walking down the sidewalk  closely followed by three girls. The first girl was a teenager, the second  perhaps a fourth grader, and lagging behind was a child no older than three. All  four were staring at cell phones in their hands, perhaps reading texts. Well,  not all were actually cell phones. The child was carrying a toy with a screen pretending it was a phone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was amusing enough to witness four people walking in line operating cell  phones. It looked like a mama duck leading her young. But, it was what the child  said that made me laugh out loud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Ma, I jus&#39; tex-id you. Did ya git it?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mother, busy typing on her phone, replied, &quot;Yeah, I got it.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Child asked, &quot;Well..., what it say?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oops!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=humorouobserv-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=7&amp;l=ez&amp;f=ifr&amp;f=ifr&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; height=&quot;40&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;border:none;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://gordonjohannes.blogspot.com/2011/05/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Gordon J. Johannes (Gordon Jay))</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item></channel></rss>