<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns: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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158</id><updated>2024-12-18T19:30:39.775-08:00</updated><category term="Life in General"/><category term="humor Blocks"/><category term="God jokes"/><category term="Other"/><category term="Three men jokes"/><category term="coporate joke"/><category term="animal jokes"/><category term="Redneck Jokes"/><category term="blond jokes"/><category term="wife jokes"/><category term="Dead thing"/><category term="inc joke"/><category term="Bartender jokes"/><category term="Hospitality jokes"/><category term="PUBLIC BLOCK"/><category term="cannibal jokes"/><category term="from Hell"/><category term="lawyer"/><title type='text'>public cement</title><subtitle type='html'>Funny stories, bar jokes, whenever there is a need for a little humor.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-2715216653451243986</id><published>2009-11-05T08:17:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:17:59.725-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>Benefits of older Chicks</title><content type='html'>An older woman will never wake you up in the middle of the night and ask&lt;br /&gt;
you, &quot;What are you thinking?&quot; An older woman doesn&#39;t care what you think.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman always carries a condom in her purse. A younger woman is&lt;br /&gt;
still hoping the guy might have one on him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman is a cheaper date. A younger woman will cost you 12 beers,&lt;br /&gt;
but an older woman will sleep with you after a cup of a herbal tea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The older a woman gets, the stronger her libido gets and the older a man&lt;br /&gt;
gets, the weaker his libido gets... which is why nature intended young guys&lt;br /&gt;
to go out with older women and young women to go out with older men. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman can wear bright red lipstick during the day without looking&lt;br /&gt;
like she just had an adventure inside a jam jar. This is not true of&lt;br /&gt;
younger women or drag queens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women can run faster because they&#39;re always wearing sensible shoes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman is into free sex! An older woman is almost always already&lt;br /&gt;
attached to someone, so there&#39;s no need to develop a phobia about&lt;br /&gt;
committing to her. The last thing she needs in her life is another clingy,&lt;br /&gt;
whiny, dependent man.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women are more honest. An older woman will tell you that you are an&lt;br /&gt;
asshole if you&#39;re acting like one. A young woman will say nothing, just in&lt;br /&gt;
case it means you might break up with her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will never get pregnant and then suddenly demand that the&lt;br /&gt;
two of you get married. In fact, if you impregnate an older woman, you will&lt;br /&gt;
probably be the last to know...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women have jobs with dental plans. Younger women can&#39;t help you when&lt;br /&gt;
your teeth get knocked out playing hockey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will never accuse you of &quot;using her.&quot;  She&#39;s using you!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women take charge of the situation. An older woman will call you up&lt;br /&gt;
and ask you for a date. A younger woman will wait forever, by the phone,&lt;br /&gt;
for you to call...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women know how to cook. Young women know how to dial Pizza Hut Take out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will introduce you to all of her girlfriends. A younger&lt;br /&gt;
woman will avoid her girlfriends when she&#39;s with you, in case you get any&lt;br /&gt;
ideas...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women are psychic. You never have to confess to having an affair,&lt;br /&gt;
because somehow they always know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women often own an interesting collection of lingerie that they have&lt;br /&gt;
acquired from admirers over the years. Young women often don&#39;t wear&lt;br /&gt;
underpants at all, thus practically eliminating all possibility of a&lt;br /&gt;
strip-tease.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women know what Kegel exercises are.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will agree to go to McDonald&#39;s with you for a meal.  Younger&lt;br /&gt;
women are too nervous to eat anything in front of somebody that they might&lt;br /&gt;
possibly boff later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women are dignified. They are beyond having a screaming match with&lt;br /&gt;
you in the middle of the night in a public park.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Older women are experienced. They understand that sometimes, after 12&lt;br /&gt;
beers, a boy just can&#39;t get it up. A younger woman may need some time to&lt;br /&gt;
grasp this fact.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman has lots of girlfriends... and most of them will want to&lt;br /&gt;
screw you too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will always meet the minimum height requirement to go on an&lt;br /&gt;
amusement ride.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An older woman will never accuse you of stealing the best years of her&lt;br /&gt;
youth because chances are someone else has stolen them first.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/2715216653451243986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/2715216653451243986?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2715216653451243986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2715216653451243986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/benefits-of-older-chicks.html' title='Benefits of older Chicks'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-2148711931143563584</id><published>2009-11-05T08:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:17:09.665-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Other"/><title type='text'>Balls of Shit</title><content type='html'>There were five people in the west wing of St. Joseph&#39;s.  They were&lt;br /&gt;
 the permanent patients with little or no chance of ever being released&lt;br /&gt;
 for fear of what might come to the public.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 The patient that I am interested in this day is Maximilian.  He has&lt;br /&gt;
 had a terrible habit of rolling his shit up into little balls and&lt;br /&gt;
 rolling them down the corridor.  The nurses and sisters had tried in&lt;br /&gt;
 vain to  have this disgusting habit ceased, but they were trying in&lt;br /&gt;
 vain.  They offered him bribes of all sorts from women visitors to&lt;br /&gt;
 cigarettes, when one day they hit the nail on the head.  &quot;It&#39;s&lt;br /&gt;
 christmas coming up,&quot; the sister said, &quot;And I think that you might&lt;br /&gt;
 like a nice big bag of  Fantails.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 Max&#39;s eyes lit up like the christmas tree in the TV room at the mere&lt;br /&gt;
 though of chocolate.  It had been an O-so-long time since he&#39;d had&lt;br /&gt;
 Fantails. &quot;You have only to do one thing,&quot; the sister continued.  &quot;You&lt;br /&gt;
 must stop this habit of rolling your little balls of shit down the&lt;br /&gt;
 hallway.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &quot;No problem,&quot; Max replied.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 For two whole weeks Max never rolled a single ball of shit down the&lt;br /&gt;
 hallway (or more correctly, never did he roll a ball of shit AND get&lt;br /&gt;
 caught!)  So Christmas day finally came and the lovely nurses and&lt;br /&gt;
 sisters all chipped in and got Max his nice big box of Fantails.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 He was sooo over-joyed at this present that he immediately opened the&lt;br /&gt;
 box and unwrapped a couple and threw them straight into his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;
 Wanting to show his appreciation he immediately offered the sisters&lt;br /&gt;
 and nurses some as well.  Maximilian then went to the TV room where he&lt;br /&gt;
 saw his friends and gave them a couple of Fantails too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 Remembering there was a patient he&#39;s never seen at the other end of&lt;br /&gt;
 the hallway, he went down there and offered him a Fantail as well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &quot;Get out of here, you bloody moron,&quot; came a voice when he entered the&lt;br /&gt;
 room.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &quot;I just want to give you a Fantail,&quot; Max said, so politely and&lt;br /&gt;
 innocently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &quot;Well, if they&#39;re anything like those malteesers of your, I DON&#39;T WANT&lt;br /&gt;
 ANY!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
... A mistake is something a virgin and a skydiver can only make once</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/2148711931143563584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/2148711931143563584?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2148711931143563584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2148711931143563584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/balls-of-shit.html' title='Balls of Shit'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-1031162155309504981</id><published>2009-11-05T08:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:15:43.833-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>A GUIDE TO LOVE AND SEX FOR  TODAY&#39;S YOUNG WOMEN</title><content type='html'>A GUIDE TO LOVE AND SEX FOR&lt;br /&gt;
                       TODAY&#39;S YOUNG WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As a young, modern women of the nineties, you no doubt have many questions&lt;br /&gt;
concerning romance, love, even s..e..x. In this sensitive and frank &quot;question&lt;br /&gt;
and answer&quot; format, noted sex therapist Dr Rut explains everythiong you&#39;ve&lt;br /&gt;
ever wondered about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: Where can I find the man of my dreams ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: This is a difficult question, since every woman probably has a different&lt;br /&gt;
ideal of what her own personal Prince Charming should act and look like.&lt;br /&gt;
However, when it comes to finding Mr Right, I can give you a good suggestion&lt;br /&gt;
on where to start - and that&#39;s in a bar. That&#39;s right, go to a bar ...&lt;br /&gt;
preferably the kind that smells of stale beer and lots of men crowded around&lt;br /&gt;
watching a sports event on television. Pick a man that looks interesting -&lt;br /&gt;
it&#39;s bets to stay away from the shallow &quot;pretty boys&quot; in designer clothes&lt;br /&gt;
with bulging muscles. Instead, I recommend you pick somebody a little older&lt;br /&gt;
and wiser, possibly reassuring pot belly. Boldly approach him, offer to buy&lt;br /&gt;
him a few beers, then invite him back to your place. He&#39;ll advise you from&lt;br /&gt;
there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: How do I know if I found Mr Right ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Unfortunately, there&#39;s no sure way to tell. Therefore, I suggest you try&lt;br /&gt;
out many different kinds of men and many different kinds of bars.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: Do men like aggresive women?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Definitely. Although they don&#39;t admit it, men are often shy - so it&#39;s up&lt;br /&gt;
to you to be bold. In addition to bars, don&#39;t be affraid to approach men &lt;br /&gt;
on streetcorners, in restaurants, even in restrooms. Break the ice with &lt;br /&gt;
simple &quot;hello&quot;, followed by an offer to buy them dinner, drinks - even an&lt;br /&gt;
expensive gift. Then invite them to back to your place.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: What if a man&#39;s married ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Go for it. This is a great opportunity to enjoy the valuable experience&lt;br /&gt;
a married man possesses, without being tied down by any sort of commitment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: But what if I fall in love with a married man ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: This is a tough one, especially if you find yourself pregnant. Ask him&lt;br /&gt;
how he feels about his wife and family. If he says his wife doesn&#39;t understand&lt;br /&gt;
him and he&#39;s thinking of leaving her, believe him and continue your &lt;br /&gt;
relationship, secure in the knowledge that he&#39;ll soon make good his promise.&lt;br /&gt;
Married men rarely lie about such important matters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: How do I know if I&#39;m ready for sex ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: ask your boyfriend. He&#39;ll know when the time is right. When it comes &lt;br /&gt;
to love and sex, men are much more responsible, since they&#39;re not confused&lt;br /&gt;
emotionally as women. It&#39;s a proven fact.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: Should I have sex on the first date ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: YES. Before if possible.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: What exactly happens during the act of sex ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Again, this is entirely up to the man. The important thing to remember is&lt;br /&gt;
that you must do whatever he tells you without question. Sometimes, however,&lt;br /&gt;
he may ask you to do certain things that may at first seem strange to you.&lt;br /&gt;
Do them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: How long should the sex act last ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: This is a natural and normal part of nature, so don&#39;t feel ashamed or &lt;br /&gt;
embarressed. After your man has finished making love, he&#39;ll have a natural &lt;br /&gt;
desire to leave you suddenly, and go out with his friends to play golf. Or&lt;br /&gt;
perhaps another activity, such as going out with his friends to the bar for&lt;br /&gt;
the purpose of consuming large amounts of alcohol and sharing a few personal&lt;br /&gt;
thoughts with his buddies. Don&#39;t feel left out - while he&#39;s gone you can &lt;br /&gt;
busy yourself by doing his laundry, cleanig his apartment, or perhaps even&lt;br /&gt;
going out to buy him an expensive gift. He&#39;ll come back when he&#39;s ready.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: What is &quot;afterplay&quot; ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: After a man has finished making love, he needs to replenish his manly&lt;br /&gt;
energy. &quot;Afterplay&quot; is simply a list of important activities for you to do &lt;br /&gt;
after the lovemaking. This includes lighting his cigarette, making him a &lt;br /&gt;
sandwich or pizza, bringing him a few beers, or leaving him alone to sleep&lt;br /&gt;
while you go out and buy him an expensive gift.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: Does the size of the penis matter ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Yes. Although many women believe that quality, not quantity, is important,&lt;br /&gt;
studies show this is simply not true. The average erect male penis measures&lt;br /&gt;
about six centimeters. Anything longer than that is extremely rare and, if&lt;br /&gt;
by some chance your lover&#39;s sexual organ is seven centimeters or over, you&lt;br /&gt;
should go down on yur knees and thank you lucky stars and do everything &lt;br /&gt;
possible to please him, such as doing his laundry, cleaning his apartment &lt;br /&gt;
and buying him an expensive gift.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: What about the female orgasm ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: What about it ? There&#39;s no such thing. It&#39;s a myth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Q: Are you sure ?&lt;br /&gt;
A: Will you stop asking so many questions ? Do you distrust men or something ?&lt;br /&gt;
Instead, prove how much you care for your boyfriend by going out and buying &lt;br /&gt;
him an expensive gift.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/1031162155309504981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/1031162155309504981?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1031162155309504981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1031162155309504981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/guide-to-love-and-sex-for-todays-young.html' title='A GUIDE TO LOVE AND SEX FOR  TODAY&#39;S YOUNG WOMEN'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-3681911636240705034</id><published>2009-11-05T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:14:11.593-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Life in General"/><title type='text'>Baked Beans</title><content type='html'>Baked beans&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked&lt;br /&gt;
beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat&lt;br /&gt;
lively reaction on him. One day he met a girl and fell in love. When it was&lt;br /&gt;
apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, She&#39;ll never go&lt;br /&gt;
through with the marriage with me carrying on like this, so he made the&lt;br /&gt;
supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Shortly after that they were married.&lt;br /&gt;
      A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down&lt;br /&gt;
and since they lived in the country, he called his wife and told her that he&lt;br /&gt;
would be late because he had to walk. On his way home, he passed a small&lt;br /&gt;
cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him.&lt;br /&gt;
 Since he still had several miles to walk he figured he could walk off&lt;br /&gt;
any ill affects before he got home. So he went in and ordered, and before&lt;br /&gt;
leaving had three extra large helpings of baked beans. All the way home he&lt;br /&gt;
putt-putted. He putt-putted down one hill and putt-putted up the next. By the&lt;br /&gt;
time he arrive home he felt reasonably safe.&lt;br /&gt;
 His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She&lt;br /&gt;
exclaimed, Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner&lt;br /&gt;
tonight!. She put a blindfold on him, and led him to his chair at the head of&lt;br /&gt;
the table and made him promise not to peek. At this point he was beginning&lt;br /&gt;
to feel another one coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the&lt;br /&gt;
blindfold, the telephone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until&lt;br /&gt;
she returned, and she went to answer the phone.&lt;br /&gt;
 While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his&lt;br /&gt;
weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg.&lt;br /&gt;
He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air&lt;br /&gt;
about him. He had just started to feel better, when another urge came on. He&lt;br /&gt;
raised his leg and rriiipppp!. It sounded like a diesel engine revving, and&lt;br /&gt;
smelled worse. To keep from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while,&lt;br /&gt;
hoping the smell would dissipate. Things had just about returned to normal&lt;br /&gt;
when he felt another urge coming. He shifted his weight to his other let and&lt;br /&gt;
let go. This was a real blue ribbon winner; the windows shook, the dishes on&lt;br /&gt;
the table rattled and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead. While&lt;br /&gt;
keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his&lt;br /&gt;
promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next ten&lt;br /&gt;
minutes, farting and then fanning each time with his napkin.&lt;br /&gt;
 When he heard the phone farewells (indicating the end of his&lt;br /&gt;
loneliness and freedom) he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his&lt;br /&gt;
hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence&lt;br /&gt;
when his wife walked in.&lt;br /&gt;
 Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the&lt;br /&gt;
dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the&lt;br /&gt;
blindfold and yelled, Surprise!&lt;br /&gt;
 To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated&lt;br /&gt;
around the table for his surprise birthday party.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/3681911636240705034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/3681911636240705034?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/3681911636240705034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/3681911636240705034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/baked-beans.html' title='Baked Beans'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-350873451173340405</id><published>2009-11-05T08:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:13:02.940-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dead thing"/><title type='text'>More dead Baby Jokes</title><content type='html'>Baby Jokes.&lt;br /&gt;
   -----------&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s red and sits in a corner?   A baby playing with a razor blade.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s red and sits in a corner?   A baby shaving its head with a potato peeler.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s blue and sits in a corner?   A baby playing with a plastic bag.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s green and sits in a corner?   The same baby three weeks later.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s black and sits in a corner?   A baby with it&#39;s finger in a power point.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s more fun than nailing a baby to a wall?   Ripping it off again.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s more fun than spinning a baby on a clothes hoist at 100mph?  Stopping it with a cricket bat.&lt;br /&gt;
   Why did the baby cross the road?   It was nailed to the chicken.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s the difference between a truckload of babies and a truckload of marbles?   You can&#39;t load marbles with a pitchfork.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s green and spins around at 100mph?   A frog in a blender.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s red and spins around at 100mph?   A baby that&#39;s crawled in after it.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s black and spins around slowly?   A fetus in a rotisserie.&lt;br /&gt;
   What do you call two abortions in a bucket?   Blood brothers.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s blue and yellow and floats at the bottom of the pool?   A baby with&lt;br /&gt;
slashed water-wings.&lt;br /&gt;
   Why couldn&#39;t the baby turn around in the hallway?   He had a javelin&lt;br /&gt;
through his neck.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s black and bobs up and down?   A baby in a toaster.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s the difference between an abortion and sand?   You can&#39;t eat sand.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s BABYLON?   The stuff you spray on babies before you iron them.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s purple, covered in pus and squeals?   A peeled baby in a bag of salt.&lt;br /&gt;
   What squeals and goes around at 100mph?   A baby in an electric fan.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s more fun than a barrel full of dead babies?   A barrel full of dead babies with a live one on the bottom trying to get up.&lt;br /&gt;
   How do you get a baby out of a blender?   With a straw.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s got four wheels, smokes and squeals?   A bus load of babies on fire.&lt;br /&gt;
   What bounces up and down at 100mph?   A baby tied to the back of a truck.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s brown and gurgles?   A baby in a casserole.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s better than a baby in a bucket?   The same baby in two buckets.&lt;br /&gt;
   What event nearly could have changed the course of history?   The dingo of Bethlehem.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s the best babysitter you can get?   A dingo.&lt;br /&gt;
   How do you bring up a baby?   Kick a dingo in the stomach.&lt;br /&gt;
   Why is it so hard to breed dingoes?   It takes 9 months to grow the food.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s a baby in a pram near Ayres Rock?   Meals on Wheels.&lt;br /&gt;
   What&#39;s the definition of revenge?   A baby with a dingo in it&#39;s mouth.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/350873451173340405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/350873451173340405?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/350873451173340405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/350873451173340405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/more-dead-baby-jokes.html' title='More dead Baby Jokes'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-7646062993792322150</id><published>2009-11-05T08:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:12:24.170-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>How to be a Perfect Asian-American Parent (from the second generation  perspective)</title><content type='html'>How to be a Perfect Asian-American Parent (from the second generation &lt;br /&gt;
perspective)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1.  Be a little more lenient on the 7PM curfew.&lt;br /&gt;
 2.  Don&#39;t ask where the other point went when your child comes home with a&lt;br /&gt;
     99 course grade on his/her report card.&lt;br /&gt;
 3.  Don&#39;t &quot;ai-yoh&quot; loudly at your kid&#39;s dress habits.&lt;br /&gt;
 4.  Don&#39;t blatantly hint about the merits of Hal-vald (Harvard), Yale-uh&lt;br /&gt;
     (Yale), Stanfold (Stanford), and Emeh-I-Tee (MIT).&lt;br /&gt;
 5.  Don&#39;t reveal all the intimate details of your kid&#39;s life to the entire&lt;br /&gt;
     Asian community.&lt;br /&gt;
 6.  Don&#39;t ask your child, &quot;What are you going to do with you life&quot; if&lt;br /&gt;
     he/she majors in a non-science field.&lt;br /&gt;
 7.  Don&#39;t give your son a bowl haircut or your daughter two acres of bangs. &lt;br /&gt;
 8.  Don&#39;t try to set your kid up on a date in anticipation of their poor&lt;br /&gt;
     taste or inept social skills.&lt;br /&gt;
 9.  Incorporate other phrases besides &quot;Did you study yet?&quot; into your daily&lt;br /&gt;
     conversations with your children.&lt;br /&gt;
10.  Don&#39;t ask all your kid&#39;s friends over the age of 21 if they have a&lt;br /&gt;
     boy/girlfriend yet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
How to Be a Perfect Asian-American Kid (from the first generation perspective)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1.  Score 1600 on the SAT.&lt;br /&gt;
 2.  Play the violin or piano on the level of a concert performer.&lt;br /&gt;
 3.  Apply to and be accepted by 27 colleges.&lt;br /&gt;
 4.  Have three hobbies: studying, studying, and studying.&lt;br /&gt;
 5.  Go to a prestigious Ivy League university and win enough scholarship to&lt;br /&gt;
     pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;
 6.  Love classical music and detest talking on the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;
 7.  Become a Westinghouse, Presidential, and eventually a Rhodes Scholar.&lt;br /&gt;
 8.  Aspire to be a brain surgeon.&lt;br /&gt;
 9.  Marry a Chinese-American doctor and have perfect, successful children.&lt;br /&gt;
10.  Love to hear stories about your parents&#39; childhood...especially the one&lt;br /&gt;
     about walking 7 miles to school without shoes.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/7646062993792322150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/7646062993792322150?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/7646062993792322150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/7646062993792322150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-be-perfect-asian-american-parent.html' title='How to be a Perfect Asian-American Parent (from the second generation  perspective)'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-4927592219175693680</id><published>2009-11-05T08:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:11:05.167-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>Are you a Guy (Quiz)</title><content type='html'>Are You a Guy?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: Take This Scientific Quiz to Determine Your Guyness Quotient&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 1. Alien beings from a highly advanced society visit the Earth, &lt;br /&gt;
: and you are the first human they encounter. As a token of &lt;br /&gt;
: intergalactic friendship, they present you with a small but &lt;br /&gt;
: incredibly sophisticated device that is capable of curing all &lt;br /&gt;
: disease, providing an infinite supply of clean energy, wiping out &lt;br /&gt;
: hunger and poverty, and permanently eliminating oppression and &lt;br /&gt;
: violence all over the entire Earth. You decide to:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. Present it to the president of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. Present it to the secretary general of the United Nations. &lt;br /&gt;
: c. Take it apart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 2. As you grow older, what lost quality of your youthful life do &lt;br /&gt;
: you miss the most?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. Innocence.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. Idealism.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. Cherry bombs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 3. When is it okay to kiss another male?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. When you wish to display simple and pure affection without &lt;br /&gt;
: regard for narrow-minded social conventions.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. When he is the pope. (Not on the lips.)&lt;br /&gt;
: c. When he is your brother and you are Al Pacino and this is the &lt;br /&gt;
: only really sportsmanlike way to let him know that, for business &lt;br /&gt;
: reasons, you have to have him killed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 4. What about hugging another male?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. If he&#39;s your father and at least one of you has a fatal &lt;br /&gt;
: disease.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. If you&#39;re performing the Heimlich maneuver. (And even in this &lt;br /&gt;
: case, you should repeatedly shout: &quot;I am just dislodging food &lt;br /&gt;
: trapped in this male&#39;s trachea! I am not in any way aroused!&quot;) &lt;br /&gt;
: c. If you&#39;re a professional baseball player and a teammate hits&lt;br /&gt;
: a home run to win the World Series, you may hug him provided that &lt;br /&gt;
: (1) He is legally within the basepath, (2) Both of you are wear- &lt;br /&gt;
: ing protective cups, and (3) You also pound him fraternally with &lt;br /&gt;
: your fist hard enough to cause fractures.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 5. Complete this sentence: A funeral is a good time to...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. ...remember the deceased and console his loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. ...reflect upon the fleeting transience of earthly life.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. ...tell the joke about the guy who has Alzheimer&#39;s disease and &lt;br /&gt;
: cancer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 6. In your opinion, the ideal pet is:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. A cat.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. A dog.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. A dog that eats cats.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 7. You have been seeing a woman for several years. She&#39;s &lt;br /&gt;
: attractive and intelligent, and you always enjoy being with her. &lt;br /&gt;
: One leisurely Sunday afternoon the two of you are taking it easy-- &lt;br /&gt;
: you&#39;re watching a football game; she&#39;s reading the papers--when &lt;br /&gt;
: she suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, tells you that she&lt;br /&gt;
: thinks she really loves you, but she can no longer bear the &lt;br /&gt;
: uncertainty of not knowing where your relationship is going. She &lt;br /&gt;
: says she&#39;s not asking whether you want to get married; only &lt;br /&gt;
: whether you believe that you have some kind of future together. &lt;br /&gt;
: What do you say?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. That you sincerely believe the two of you do have a future, &lt;br /&gt;
: but you don&#39;t want to rush it.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. That although you also have strong feelings for her, you &lt;br /&gt;
: cannot honestly say that you&#39;ll be ready anytime soon to make a &lt;br /&gt;
: lasting commitment, and you don&#39;t want to hurt her by holding out &lt;br /&gt;
: false hope.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. That you cannot believe the Jets called a draw play on third &lt;br /&gt;
: and seventeen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 8. Okay, so you have decided that you truly love a woman and you &lt;br /&gt;
: want to spend the rest of your life with her-sharing the joys and &lt;br /&gt;
: the sorrows, the triumphs and the tragedies, and all the &lt;br /&gt;
: adventures and opportunities that the world has to offer, come &lt;br /&gt;
: what may. How do you tell her?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. You take her to a nice restaurant and tell her after dinner. &lt;br /&gt;
: b. You take her for a walk on a moonlit beach, and you say her &lt;br /&gt;
: name, and when she turns to you, with the sea breeze blowing her &lt;br /&gt;
: hair and the stars in her eyes, you tell her.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. Tell her what?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 9. One weekday morning your wife wakes up feeling ill and asks &lt;br /&gt;
: you to get your three children ready for school. Your first &lt;br /&gt;
: question to her is:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. &quot;Do they need to eat or anything?&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
: b. &quot;They&#39;re in school already?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
: c. &quot;There are three of them?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 10. When is it okay to throw away a set of veteran underwear?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. When it has turned the color of a dead whale and developed new &lt;br /&gt;
: holes so large that you&#39;re not sure which ones were originally &lt;br /&gt;
: intended for your legs.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. When it is down to eight loosely connected underwear molecules &lt;br /&gt;
: and has to be handled with tweezers.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. It is never okay to throw away veteran underwear. A real guy &lt;br /&gt;
: checks the garbage regularly in case somebody--and we are not &lt;br /&gt;
: naming names, but this would be his wife--is quietly trying to &lt;br /&gt;
: discard his underwear, which she is frankly jealous of, because &lt;br /&gt;
: the guy seems to have a more intimate relationship with it than &lt;br /&gt;
: with her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 11. What, in your opinion, is the most reasonable explanation for &lt;br /&gt;
: the fact that Moses led the Israelites all over the place for &lt;br /&gt;
: forty years before they finally got to the Promised Land?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. He was being tested.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. He wanted them to really appreciate the Promised Land when &lt;br /&gt;
: they finally got there.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. He refused to ask directions.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: 12. What is the human race&#39;s single greatest achievement?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: a. Democracy.&lt;br /&gt;
: b. Religion.&lt;br /&gt;
: c. Remote control.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: How to Score: Give yourself one point for every time you picked &lt;br /&gt;
: answer &quot;c.&quot; A real guy would score at least 10 on this test. In &lt;br /&gt;
: fact, a real guy would score at least 15, because he would get &lt;br /&gt;
: the special five-point bonus for knowing the joke about the guy &lt;br /&gt;
: who has Alzheimer&#39;s disease and cancer.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/4927592219175693680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/4927592219175693680?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/4927592219175693680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/4927592219175693680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/are-you-guy-quiz.html' title='Are you a Guy (Quiz)'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-1328934394894445753</id><published>2009-11-05T08:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:08:43.999-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>101 ways to say no</title><content type='html'>101 EASY WAYS TO SAY NO&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d love to, but...&lt;br /&gt;
   1   I have to floss my cat.&lt;br /&gt;
   2   I&#39;ve dedicated my life to linguini.&lt;br /&gt;
   3   I want to spend more time with my blender.&lt;br /&gt;
   4   the President said he might drop in.&lt;br /&gt;
   5   the man on television told me to say tuned.&lt;br /&gt;
   6   I&#39;ve been scheduled for a karma transplant.&lt;br /&gt;
   7   I&#39;m staying home to work on my cottage cheese sculpture.&lt;br /&gt;
   8   it&#39;s my parakeet&#39;s bowling night.&lt;br /&gt;
   9   it wouldn&#39;t be fair to the other Beautiful People.&lt;br /&gt;
  10   I&#39;m building a pig from a kit.&lt;br /&gt;
  11   I did my own thing and now I&#39;ve got to undo it.&lt;br /&gt;
  12   I&#39;m enrolled in aerobic scream therapy.&lt;br /&gt;
  13   there&#39;s a disturbance in the Force.&lt;br /&gt;
  14   I&#39;m doing door-to-door collecting for static cling.&lt;br /&gt;
  15   I have to go to the post office to see if I&#39;m still wanted.&lt;br /&gt;
  16   I&#39;m teaching my ferret to yodel.&lt;br /&gt;
  17   I have to check the freshness dates on my dairy products.&lt;br /&gt;
  18   I&#39;m going through cherry cheesecake withdrawl.&lt;br /&gt;
  19   I&#39;m planning to go downtown to try on gloves.&lt;br /&gt;
  20   my crayons all melted together.&lt;br /&gt;
  21   I&#39;m trying to see how long I can go without saying yes.&lt;br /&gt;
  22   I&#39;m in training to be a household pest.&lt;br /&gt;
  23   I&#39;m getting my overalls overhauled.&lt;br /&gt;
  24   my patent is pending.&lt;br /&gt;
  25   I&#39;m attending the opening of my garage door.&lt;br /&gt;
  26   I&#39;m sandblasting my oven.&lt;br /&gt;
  27   I&#39;m worried about my vertical hold.&lt;br /&gt;
  28   I&#39;m going down to the bakery to watch the buns rise.&lt;br /&gt;
  29   I&#39;m being deported.&lt;br /&gt;
  30   the grunion are running.&lt;br /&gt;
  31   I&#39;ll be looking for a parking space.&lt;br /&gt;
  32   my Millard Filmore Fan Club meets then.&lt;br /&gt;
  33   the monsters haven&#39;t turned blue yet, and I have to eat more dots.&lt;br /&gt;
  34   I&#39;m taking punk totem pole carving.&lt;br /&gt;
  35   I have to fluff my shower cap.&lt;br /&gt;
  36   I&#39;m converting my calendar watch from Julian to Gregorian.&lt;br /&gt;
  37   I&#39;ve come down with a really horrible case of something or other.&lt;br /&gt;
  38   I made an appointment with a cuticle specialist.&lt;br /&gt;
  39   my plot to take over the world is thickening.&lt;br /&gt;
  40   I have to fulfill my potential.&lt;br /&gt;
  41   I don&#39;t want to leave my comfort zone.&lt;br /&gt;
  42   it&#39;s too close to the turn of the century.&lt;br /&gt;
  43   I have some real hard words to look up in the dictionary.&lt;br /&gt;
  44   my subconscious says no.&lt;br /&gt;
  45   I&#39;m giving nuisance lessons at a convenience store.&lt;br /&gt;
  46   I left my body in my other clothes.&lt;br /&gt;
  47   the last time I went, I never came back.&lt;br /&gt;
  48   I&#39;ve got a Friends of Rutabaga meeting.&lt;br /&gt;
  49   I have to answer all of my &quot;occupant&quot; letters.&lt;br /&gt;
  50   none of my socks match.&lt;br /&gt;
  51   I have to be on the next train to Bermuda.&lt;br /&gt;
  52   I&#39;m having all my plants neutered.&lt;br /&gt;
  53   people are blaming me for the Spanish-American War.&lt;br /&gt;
  54   I changed the lock on my door and now I can&#39;t get out.&lt;br /&gt;
  55   I&#39;m making a home movie called &quot;The Thing That Grew in My &lt;br /&gt;
       Refrigerator.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
  56   I&#39;m attending a perfume convention as guest sniffer.&lt;br /&gt;
  57   my yucca plant is feeling yucky.&lt;br /&gt;
  58   I&#39;m touring China with a wok band.&lt;br /&gt;
  59   my chocolate-appreciation class meets that night.&lt;br /&gt;
  60   I never go out on days that end in &quot;Y.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
  61   my mother would never let me hear the end of it.&lt;br /&gt;
  62   I&#39;m running off to Yugoslavia with a foreign-exchange student named &lt;br /&gt;
       Basil Metabolism.&lt;br /&gt;
  63   I just picked up a book called &quot;Glue in Many Lands&quot; and I can&#39;t put &lt;br /&gt;
       it down.&lt;br /&gt;
  64   I&#39;m too old/young for that stuff.&lt;br /&gt;
  65   I have to wash/condition/perm/curl/tease/torment my hair.&lt;br /&gt;
  66   I have too much guilt.&lt;br /&gt;
  67   there are important world issues that need worrying about.&lt;br /&gt;
  68   I have to draw &quot;Cubby&quot; for an art scholarship.&lt;br /&gt;
  69   I&#39;m uncomfortable when I&#39;m alone or with others.&lt;br /&gt;
  70   I promised to help a friend fold road maps.&lt;br /&gt;
  71   I feel a song coming on.&lt;br /&gt;
  72   I&#39;m trying to be less popular.&lt;br /&gt;
  73   my bathroom tiles need grouting.&lt;br /&gt;
  74   I have to bleach my hare.&lt;br /&gt;
  75   I&#39;m waiting to see if I&#39;m already a winner.&lt;br /&gt;
  76   I&#39;m writing a love letter to Richard Simmons.&lt;br /&gt;
  77   you know how we psychos are.&lt;br /&gt;
  78   my favorite commercial is on TV.&lt;br /&gt;
  79   I have to study for a blood test.&lt;br /&gt;
  80   I&#39;m going to be old someday.&lt;br /&gt;
  81   I&#39;ve been traded to Cincinnati.&lt;br /&gt;
  82   I&#39;m observing National Apathy Week.&lt;br /&gt;
  83   I have to rotate my crops.&lt;br /&gt;
  84   my uncle escaped again.&lt;br /&gt;
  85   I&#39;m up to my elbows in waxy buildup.&lt;br /&gt;
  86   I have to knit some dust bunnies for a charity bazaar.&lt;br /&gt;
  87   I&#39;m having my baby shoes bronzed.&lt;br /&gt;
  88   I have to go to court for kitty littering.&lt;br /&gt;
  89   I&#39;m going to count the bristles in my toothbrush.&lt;br /&gt;
  90   I have to thaw some karate chops for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;
  91   having fun gives me prickly heat.&lt;br /&gt;
  92   I&#39;m going to the Missing Persons Bureau to see if anyone is looking &lt;br /&gt;
       for me.&lt;br /&gt;
  93   I have to jog my memory.&lt;br /&gt;
  94   my palm reader advised against it.&lt;br /&gt;
  95   my Dress For Obscurity class meets then.&lt;br /&gt;
  96   I have to stay home and see if I snore.&lt;br /&gt;
  97   I prefer to remain an enigma.&lt;br /&gt;
  98   I think you want the OTHER  [your name]  .&lt;br /&gt;
  99   I have to sit up with a sick ant.&lt;br /&gt;
 100   I&#39;m trying to cut down.&lt;br /&gt;
 101   ... well, maybe.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/1328934394894445753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/1328934394894445753?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1328934394894445753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1328934394894445753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/101-ways-to-say-no.html' title='101 ways to say no'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-1875014265471340624</id><published>2009-11-05T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:07:25.296-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Three men jokes"/><title type='text'>3 engineers in a car</title><content type='html'>[News]  3 Engineers in a Car&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are three engineers in a car; an electrical engineer, a&lt;br /&gt;
 engineer, and a Microsoft engineer.&lt;br /&gt;
 the car just stops by the side of the road, and the three&lt;br /&gt;
 engineers look at each other wondering what could be wrong.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 The electrical engineer suggests stripping down the electronics of&lt;br /&gt;
        the car and trying to trace where a fault might have occurred.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
        The chemical engineer, not knowing much about cars suggests that&lt;br /&gt;
        maybe the fuel is becoming emulsified and getting blocked somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
        Then, the Microsoft engineer, not knowing much about anything, comes&lt;br /&gt;
        up with a suggestion.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
        &quot;Why don&#39;t we close all the windows, get out, get back in, open the&lt;br /&gt;
        windows again, and maybe it&#39;ll work!?&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/1875014265471340624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/1875014265471340624?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1875014265471340624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1875014265471340624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/3-engineers-in-car.html' title='3 engineers in a car'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-5616015968478088675</id><published>2009-11-05T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T08:01:40.859-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God jokes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lawyer"/><title type='text'>Lawyer Meets saint Peter</title><content type='html'>A New York Divorce Lawyer died and arrived at the pearly gates. Saint Peter asks him &quot;What have you done to merit entrance into Heaven?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Lawyer thought a moment, then said, &quot;A week ago, I gave a quarter to a homeless person on the street.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saint Peter asked Gabriel to check this out in the record, and after a moment Gabriel affirmed that this was true.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saint Peter said, &quot;Well, that&#39;s fine, but it&#39;s not really quite enough to get you into Heaven.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Lawyer said, &quot;Wait Wait! There&#39;s more! Three years ago I also gave a homeless person a quarter.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saint Peter nodded to Gabriel, who after a moment nodded back, affirming this, too, had been verified.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saint Peter then whispered to Gabriel, &quot;Well, what do you suggest we do with this fellow?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Gabriel gave the Lawyer a sidelong glance, then said to Saint Peter, &quot;Let&#39;s give him back his 50 cents and tell him to go to Hell.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/5616015968478088675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/5616015968478088675?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/5616015968478088675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/5616015968478088675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/lawyer-meets-saint-peter.html' title='Lawyer Meets saint Peter'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-2607099769744355442</id><published>2009-11-04T04:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T04:42:01.970-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Other"/><title type='text'>You know you are a net junkie when....</title><content type='html'>1. You wake up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and stop to check your&lt;br /&gt;
email on the way back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2. You get a tattoo that reads &quot;This body best viewed with Netscape&lt;br /&gt;
Navigator 3.0 or higher.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
3. You name your child Dotcom.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4. You turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just&lt;br /&gt;
pulled the plug on a loved one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5. You spend half of the plane trip with your laptop on your lap...and&lt;br /&gt;
your child in the overhead department.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
6. You decide to stay in college for an aditional year or two, just for&lt;br /&gt;
the free Internet access.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
7. You laugh at people with 28.8K modems.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
8. You start using smileys in your email mail. :-)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
9. Your hard drive crashes.  You haven&#39;t logged in for two hours.  You&lt;br /&gt;
start to twitch.  You pick up the phone and manually dial your ISP&#39;s access&lt;br /&gt;
number.  You try to hum to communicate with their modems....and succeed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
10. You find yourself typing &quot;com&quot; after every period when using a word&lt;br /&gt;
processor.com&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
11. You refer to going to the bathroom as &quot;downloading.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
12. You start introducing yourself as &quot;John Smith at Hotmail dot Com.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
13. All your friends have an @ in their names.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
14. Your cat has its own home page.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
15. You can&#39;t call your mother....she doesn&#39;t have a modem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
16. You check your email...It says &quot;no new messages&quot;.  You check it again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
17. Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
18. You don&#39;t know what sex three of your closest friends are, because&lt;br /&gt;
they havve neutral nicknames and you never bothered to ask.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
19. You move into a new house and decide to Netscape before you landscape.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
20. You tell the cab driver you live at &quot;http://1000.edison.garden/house/brick.html.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
21. You start tilting your head sideways to smile.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/2607099769744355442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/2607099769744355442?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2607099769744355442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2607099769744355442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-know-you-are-net-junkie-when.html' title='You know you are a net junkie when....'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-1006965658376377682</id><published>2009-11-04T04:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T04:41:03.554-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Three men jokes"/><title type='text'>three old men</title><content type='html'>Three old men are talking about their aches, pains and bodily functions.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The 70 year old man says, &quot;I have this problem.  I wake up every morning&lt;br /&gt;
at seven and it takes me twenty minutes to pee.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The 80 year old man says, &quot;My case is worse.  I get up at eight and I sit&lt;br /&gt;
there and grunt and groan for half an hour before I finally have a bowel&lt;br /&gt;
movement.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The 90 year old man says, &quot;At seven I pee like a horse, and at eight I&lt;br /&gt;
crap like a cow.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;So what&#39;s your problem?&quot; ask the others.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I don&#39;t wake up until nine!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/1006965658376377682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/1006965658376377682?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1006965658376377682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1006965658376377682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/three-old-men.html' title='three old men'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-466570663696983124</id><published>2009-11-04T04:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T04:36:46.491-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Other"/><title type='text'>27 reasons why tacos are better than women</title><content type='html'>27 Reasons Why Tacos Are Better Than Women&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tacos won&#39;t shave with your razor.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos won&#39;t ask, &quot;Is there another taco?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos won&#39;t look through your checkbook.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t have cats.&lt;br /&gt;
 A taco won&#39;t mind if you share it with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;
 A taco never says, &lt;br /&gt;
      (A) &quot;Is it hard yet?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
      (B) &quot;Is it in yet?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
      (C) &quot;Have you seen a doctor about that?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
 A taco won&#39;t tell other tacos about your cucumber.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t mind if you eat their friends.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos are ready when you are.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos never ask you to call them in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;
 With a taco, you never have to say you&#39;re sorry.&lt;br /&gt;
 You don&#39;t have to respect tacos in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;
 You don&#39;t have to tell tacos you love them.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t fall in love with you just because you have sex.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t make you wear a condom.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos are happy to sleep on the wet spot.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t get upset if you eat other tacos.&lt;br /&gt;
 You don&#39;t have to hold a taco while it&#39;s falling asleep.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos never have headaches.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t leave hair in your teeth.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t care if you&#39;re married.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos never even talk about marriage.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t get pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t insist on foreplay.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos don&#39;t bite.&lt;br /&gt;
 You can have your taco as hot as you want it.&lt;br /&gt;
 Tacos taste good.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/466570663696983124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/466570663696983124?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/466570663696983124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/466570663696983124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/27-reasons-why-tacos-are-better-than.html' title='27 reasons why tacos are better than women'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-8390209044540252071</id><published>2009-11-02T14:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T14:25:38.495-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="PUBLIC BLOCK"/><title type='text'>Public Cemented Jokes</title><content type='html'>cement your joke</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/8390209044540252071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/8390209044540252071?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/8390209044540252071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/8390209044540252071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/public-cemented-jokes.html' title='Public Cemented Jokes'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-447668974391978153</id><published>2009-11-02T08:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:52:52.575-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Life in General"/><title type='text'>promise land</title><content type='html'>5000 years ago, Moses said:&lt;br /&gt;
         Pick up your shovel, mount your ass,&lt;br /&gt;
         and I&#39;ll lead you to the promised land.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         5000 years later, Roosevelt said:&lt;br /&gt;
         Lay down your shovel, sit on your ass, and light up a camel,&lt;br /&gt;
         for this is the promised land.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Today, Reagan will tax your shovel,&lt;br /&gt;
         sell your camel, kick your ass,&lt;br /&gt;
         and tell you there is no promised land.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/447668974391978153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/447668974391978153?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/447668974391978153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/447668974391978153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/promise-land.html' title='promise land'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-6672790931011280676</id><published>2009-11-02T08:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:51:16.888-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>What&#39;s the difference in a Texas Oilman &amp; a Pigeon?</title><content type='html'>What&#39;s the difference in a Texas Oilman &amp; a Pigeon?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Pigeon can still make a deposit on a Mercedes.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/6672790931011280676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/6672790931011280676?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6672790931011280676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6672790931011280676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/whats-difference-in-texas-oilman-pigeon.html' title='What&#39;s the difference in a Texas Oilman &amp; a Pigeon?'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-2565449405945226998</id><published>2009-11-02T08:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:50:43.729-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Other"/><title type='text'>URINALYSIS</title><content type='html'>URINALYSIS&lt;br /&gt;
                                   ------------&lt;br /&gt;
            EXITABLE - Rips apart shorts if he can&#39;t find it right away.&lt;br /&gt;
               TOUGH - Bangs dick on side of urinal.&lt;br /&gt;
              CLEVER -  Look,  no hands! Fixes tie, looks around. Pisses on&lt;br /&gt;
                       floor.&lt;br /&gt;
           EFFICIENT - Reads messages while pissing. Pisses on floor.&lt;br /&gt;
           DIFFERENT - Doesn&#39;care if urinals  are  in use or not. Pisses in&lt;br /&gt;
                       sink&lt;br /&gt;
          BUREAUCRAT - Can&#39;t piss with out being told when,  where,  &amp;  for&lt;br /&gt;
                       how long.&lt;br /&gt;
       ABSENT MINDED - Opens vest, Pulls out tie, pisses in pants.&lt;br /&gt;
           FRIVILOUS - Plays with stream. shoots at flys/gnats.&lt;br /&gt;
               AGGIE -  Leaves  with that big mint that someone left in the&lt;br /&gt;
                       urinal.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/2565449405945226998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/2565449405945226998?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2565449405945226998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2565449405945226998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/urinalysis.html' title='URINALYSIS'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-2749002641408571534</id><published>2009-11-02T08:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:49:07.149-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>Why do women sky divers wear tampons?</title><content type='html'>Why do women sky divers wear tampons?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         So they won&#39;t whistle on the way down.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/2749002641408571534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/2749002641408571534?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2749002641408571534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/2749002641408571534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-do-women-sky-divers-wear-tampons.html' title='Why do women sky divers wear tampons?'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-4601873590301159154</id><published>2009-11-02T08:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:46:57.197-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="coporate joke"/><title type='text'>oil well on fire</title><content type='html'>This low budget oil producer had an oil well that was on fire.  He&lt;br /&gt;
         called every oil well fire fighter in the phone book.  All of them&lt;br /&gt;
         were very expensive.  Red Adair wanted $25,000 just  to  come look&lt;br /&gt;
         at the  fire.  There was no way he could afford this.  Finally, he&lt;br /&gt;
         noticed an ad for Jose&#39;s Fire Fighting  Service.   He  called Jose&lt;br /&gt;
         and asked how much he charged?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Jose said,  &quot;Senor, I only charge $1,000.&quot;  The producer  thought,&lt;br /&gt;
         Great! &quot;Well OK Jose, come on out and look at my oil well fire.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The producer  was  standing on a hill looking at his oil well fire&lt;br /&gt;
         when a pickup truck with Jose&#39;s  Fire Fighting on the door and ten&lt;br /&gt;
         Mexicans in the back came across the hill and drove  straight into&lt;br /&gt;
         the fire.&lt;br /&gt;
                                 &lt;br /&gt;
         All of  the  Mexicans  got  out  of the truck and started stomping&lt;br /&gt;
         their feet and waiving their serapes screaming, &quot;Ariba!  Ariba!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         After about fifteen minutes, the fire was out.  The producer&lt;br /&gt;
         couldn&#39;t believe it.  The fire  was  out!   The  producer  yelled,&lt;br /&gt;
         &quot;Congratulations Jose!  What are you going to do with the $1,000?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Jose answered,  &quot;Well  senor, the first thing I  do  is  feex  the&lt;br /&gt;
         brakes on this truck...&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/4601873590301159154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/4601873590301159154?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/4601873590301159154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/4601873590301159154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/oil-well-on-fire.html' title='oil well on fire'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-1038437469680892753</id><published>2009-11-02T08:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:44:32.138-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God jokes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Three men jokes"/><title type='text'>dividing the sabath</title><content type='html'>One day a Catholic Priest, Methodist  Preacher, and a Jewish Rabbi&lt;br /&gt;
         were sitting around discussing how they divide the  take from each&lt;br /&gt;
         Sabbath.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Priest  said,  &quot;What  I do is I draw a line down the center of&lt;br /&gt;
         the room and then throw the money  up  in the air.  Whatever lands&lt;br /&gt;
         on the left is God&#39;s, whatever lands on the right is mine.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Preacher said, &quot;Well I do almost the same thing  only I draw a&lt;br /&gt;
         circle in the middle of the room.  Whatever lands in the circle is&lt;br /&gt;
         mine and the rest belongs to God.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Rabbi  says,  &quot;No,  you  both  are doing it wrong.  I take the&lt;br /&gt;
         money and throw it up in the air.  Then I yell, God, Take what you&lt;br /&gt;
         want!.  Whatever comes back down is mine......&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/1038437469680892753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/1038437469680892753?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1038437469680892753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/1038437469680892753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/dividing-sabath.html' title='dividing the sabath'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-6893814427009101924</id><published>2009-11-02T08:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:42:02.227-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God jokes"/><title type='text'>Did you hear how Moses got the ten commandments</title><content type='html'>Did you hear how Moses got the ten commandments?   God  was coming&lt;br /&gt;
         down the  mountain  and  the  first  person he came across was not&lt;br /&gt;
         Moses.  It was a Roman.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         He asked  the  Roman if he wanted  any  commandments?   The  Roman&lt;br /&gt;
         replied, What&#39;s a commandment?&quot;  God said, &quot;Thou shalt not kill.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Roman replied, &quot;Hell no!  We&#39;re a warring nation.   That&#39;s how&lt;br /&gt;
         we make our living.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         So God went on down the mountain.  The next guy he came across was&lt;br /&gt;
         a nomadic   tribesman.    He   asked  this  guy  if  he  wanted  a&lt;br /&gt;
         commandment.  The guy replied, &quot;What&#39;s  a commandment?&quot;  God said,&lt;br /&gt;
         &quot;Thou shalt not steal.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The guy said, &quot;Hell no!  That&#39;s how we make our living.&quot;   So  God&lt;br /&gt;
         went on  down the mountain.  The next guy he came across was Moses&lt;br /&gt;
         with a bunch of little Jews following him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         God asked Moses, &quot;Do you want any commandments?&quot; Moses asked, &quot;How&lt;br /&gt;
         much are they?&quot;  God said, &quot;They&#39;re  free.&quot;   Moses  replied  &quot;Yea&lt;br /&gt;
         sure, we&#39;ll take ten.....&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/6893814427009101924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/6893814427009101924?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6893814427009101924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6893814427009101924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/did-you-hear-how-moses-got-ten.html' title='Did you hear how Moses got the ten commandments'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-435148255013223673</id><published>2009-11-02T08:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:40:28.080-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>Why doesn&#39;t Mexico have an Olympic swimming team?</title><content type='html'>Why doesn&#39;t Mexico have an Olympic swimming team?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         They&#39;re all over here.......</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/435148255013223673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/435148255013223673?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/435148255013223673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/435148255013223673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-doesnt-mexico-have-olympic-swimming.html' title='Why doesn&#39;t Mexico have an Olympic swimming team?'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-817547562776539775</id><published>2009-11-02T08:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:39:20.594-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Redneck Jokes"/><title type='text'>This Texan  goes  to Hawaii for vacation</title><content type='html'>This Texan  goes  to Hawaii for vacation.  The first place they go&lt;br /&gt;
         is a beach.  The Texan says, &quot;Well yaknow, this is really a pretty&lt;br /&gt;
         beach, but it aint no big deal.   Hell,  we  got  beaches  just as&lt;br /&gt;
         pretty on South Padre Island.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The next place they go is Honolulu.  The Texan says, &quot;Well, yea&lt;br /&gt;
         this is alright.  But we got more buildings, and  taller buildings&lt;br /&gt;
         than this in both Houston and Dallas.  This aint no big deal.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Well this goes on all day.  Everywhere they go, there is something&lt;br /&gt;
         in Texas  just  as good.  The tour guide is getting tired of this.&lt;br /&gt;
                                      Page 4&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Finally he  takes  the  group up to the top of a live volcano.  As&lt;br /&gt;
         they are standing around this, the  tour guide looked at the Texan&lt;br /&gt;
         and asked, &quot;Well you son of a bitch, you got anything like this in&lt;br /&gt;
         Texas?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The Texan  thought  about it for a minute and replied,  &quot;Well  no.&lt;br /&gt;
         But I&#39;ll  tell  you  what.   We got a fire department in Waco that&lt;br /&gt;
         will put that son of a bitch out in about fifteen minutes.....&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/817547562776539775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/817547562776539775?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/817547562776539775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/817547562776539775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-texan-goes-to-hawaii-for-vacation.html' title='This Texan  goes  to Hawaii for vacation'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-6238803988336924838</id><published>2009-11-02T08:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:37:53.295-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animal jokes"/><title type='text'>Very horny gorilla</title><content type='html'>This zoo had a female gorilla, but no male gorilla.   This  female&lt;br /&gt;
         gorilla was  really  getting  horny and the zoo had no one to take&lt;br /&gt;
         care of her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         One day they decided to advertise  in  the  paper  for someone who&lt;br /&gt;
         would &quot;take care of&quot; this female gorilla.  They started at $200.00&lt;br /&gt;
         but got no response.  Finally, at $1000.00 a guy answered the ad.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The guy  looked  at the gorilla and told the zoo  keeper  that  he&lt;br /&gt;
         would do  it,  but only if they would put a bag over the gorilla&#39;s&lt;br /&gt;
         head.  The zoo keeper agreed.  So they put a bag over the gorillas&lt;br /&gt;
         head and this guy got into the cage.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         Well this gorilla was extremely  horny.   She grabbed this guy and&lt;br /&gt;
         started fucking him every way you could imagine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         They were  bouncing  off the walls, up and down the  cage,  making&lt;br /&gt;
         love wildly.   All  of a sudden the guy started yelling at the top&lt;br /&gt;
         of his voice, &quot;Get it off!  Get it off!&quot;  So the attendants jumped&lt;br /&gt;
         in the cage and pulled the gorilla off.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         The guy yelled, &quot;What the hell are  you doing?!&quot;  &quot;You said to get&lt;br /&gt;
         it off.&quot;  The guy says, &quot;Hell, I meant the bag, I  wanna  kiss the&lt;br /&gt;
         bitch!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/6238803988336924838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/6238803988336924838?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6238803988336924838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6238803988336924838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/very-horny-gorilla.html' title='Very horny gorilla'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1946683809595748158.post-6840362105371149859</id><published>2009-11-02T08:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:34:04.203-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor Blocks"/><title type='text'>Why did  God&#39;s  chosen  children  wander  in  the desert for forty years</title><content type='html'>Why did  God&#39;s  chosen  children  wander  in  the desert for forty&lt;br /&gt;
         years?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
         One of them dropped a quarter............</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/feeds/6840362105371149859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1946683809595748158/6840362105371149859?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6840362105371149859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1946683809595748158/posts/default/6840362105371149859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://publiccement.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-did-gods-chosen-children-wander-in.html' title='Why did  God&#39;s  chosen  children  wander  in  the desert for forty years'/><author><name>social Market</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12835292945341226927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>