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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546</id><updated>2009-11-03T12:29:36.227Z</updated><title type="text">'Tickling the Bone'</title><subtitle type="html">A collection of jokes, funnies and what ever tickles my funny bone.</subtitle><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/atom.xml" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>668</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ticklingTheBone" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-6099702605938124942</id><published>2009-11-03T12:29:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-03T12:29:36.246Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="financial" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="money" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="General" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="playonwords" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animals" /><title type="text">The Vets Bill</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her&amp;#160;&amp;#160; pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to   &lt;br /&gt;the&amp;#160;&amp;#160; bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said,    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;I'm sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt; The distressed woman wailed, &amp;quot;Are you sure?&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead,&amp;quot; replied the vet.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;How can you be so sure?&amp;quot; she protested. &amp;quot;I mean you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever..&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from   &lt;br /&gt;top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on   &lt;br /&gt;its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room..&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The vet looked at the woman and said, &amp;quot;I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman. The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;$150!&amp;quot; she cried, &amp;quot;$150 just to tell me my duck is dead!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The vet shrugged, &amp;quot;I'm sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20. But with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it's now $150 &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6099702605938124942?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vklG3fNusZX59nh61_g1zebp1aI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vklG3fNusZX59nh61_g1zebp1aI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/QYQ2NvNXpzY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/6099702605938124942/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=6099702605938124942&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6099702605938124942" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6099702605938124942" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/QYQ2NvNXpzY/vets-bill.html" title="The Vets Bill" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/11/vets-bill.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-6944589766879228561</id><published>2009-11-03T12:15:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-03T12:15:30.781Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Men_vs_Women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blonde" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wife" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Women" /><title type="text">And they say blondes are dumb</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;One day my house work-challenged husband decided to wash his Sweat-shirt.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;What setting do I use on the washing machine?'&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;'It depends,' I replied. 'What does it say on your shirt?'&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;He yelled back, 'University of Oklahoma'&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And they say blondes are dumb...&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6944589766879228561?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4D5ipUk_dRsjNByYDee5-Y2eaMg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4D5ipUk_dRsjNByYDee5-Y2eaMg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/qTFmCoNlgjY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/6944589766879228561/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=6944589766879228561&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6944589766879228561" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6944589766879228561" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/qTFmCoNlgjY/and-they-say-blondes-are-dumb.html" title="And they say blondes are dumb" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/11/and-they-say-blondes-are-dumb.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-4094659064711701962</id><published>2009-10-21T15:32:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:32:45.753+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marriage" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Husband" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wife" /><title type="text">The 11th Husband....</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;A young man married a beautiful woman who had previously divorced 10 husbands. On their wedding night, she told her new husband to &amp;quot;Please be gentle; I'm still a virgin&amp;quot;.    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;What?&amp;quot; said the puzzled groom. &amp;quot;How can that be if you've been married ten times..?&amp;quot;     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Well, husband #1 was a &lt;b&gt;Sales Representative&lt;/b&gt; ;&amp;#160; he kept telling me how great it was going to be.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 2 was in &lt;b&gt;Software Services&lt;/b&gt;; he was never really sure how it was suppose to function; but he said he'd look into it and get back with me.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 3 was from &lt;b&gt;Field Services&lt;/b&gt;; he said that everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 4 was in &lt;b&gt;Telemarketing&lt;/b&gt;; even though he knew he had the&amp;#160;&amp;#160; order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 5 was an &lt;b&gt;Engineer&lt;/b&gt;,&amp;#160;&amp;#160; he understood the basic process but he wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state of the-art method.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 6 was from &lt;b&gt;Administration&lt;/b&gt;; he thought he knew how but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 7 was in &lt;b&gt;Marketing&lt;/b&gt;; although he had a product, he was never sure how to position it.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 8 was a &lt;b&gt;Psychiatrist&lt;/b&gt;; all he did was talk about it.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 9 was a &lt;b&gt;Gynaecologist&lt;/b&gt;; all he did was look at it.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Husband # 10 was a &lt;b&gt;Stamp Collector&lt;/b&gt;; all he ever did was........ God I miss him.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot; But now that I've married you, I'm so excited&amp;quot;.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Wonderful&amp;quot;, said the husband, &amp;quot;but why?&amp;#160; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;You're with the&amp;quot;GOVERNMENT&amp;quot;....&amp;#160; This time I know I’m gonna get screwed.&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-4094659064711701962?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wOWYb6cM352H_ylUJXtN_hyShy4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wOWYb6cM352H_ylUJXtN_hyShy4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/Ir_JSt8nkps" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/4094659064711701962/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=4094659064711701962&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/4094659064711701962" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/4094659064711701962" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/Ir_JSt8nkps/11th-husband.html" title="The 11th Husband...." /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/10/11th-husband.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-3726096755889412677</id><published>2009-10-21T15:29:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:29:10.587+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Cowboy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="funny_stories" /><title type="text">Deer Camp</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;The guys were all at a deer camp. No one wanted to room with Bob, because he snored so badly. They decided it wasn't fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time, so they voted to take turns.   &lt;br /&gt;The first guy slept with Bob and comes to breakfast the next morning with his hair a mess and bloodshot eyes. They said, &amp;quot;Man, what happened to you?&amp;quot; He said, &amp;quot;Bob snored so loudly, I just sat up all night and watched him.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;The next night it was a different guy's turn. In the morning, the same thing. They said, &amp;quot;Man, what happened to you? You look awful!&amp;quot; He said,&amp;quot; Man, that Bob shakes the roof with his snoring. I watched him all night.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;The third night it was Fred's turn. Fred was an old cowboy who'd been around the block a few times. The next morning Fred came to breakfast, 'bright eyed and bushy tailed'. His hunting buddies were stunned and asked him, &amp;quot;What happened?&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt; He drawled, &amp;quot;Well, we got ready for bed. I went over and tucked Bob into bed, patted him on the ass, and gave him a good night kiss. Bob sat up and watched me all night.&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-3726096755889412677?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L_kLYoaoqVSGitdplFC5tAGe1ao/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L_kLYoaoqVSGitdplFC5tAGe1ao/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/4vaXjHpG2Rk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/3726096755889412677/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=3726096755889412677&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/3726096755889412677" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/3726096755889412677" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/4vaXjHpG2Rk/deer-camp.html" title="Deer Camp" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/10/deer-camp.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-1390451829852262945</id><published>2009-10-06T12:05:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T12:05:11.007+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Men_vs_Women" /><title type="text">Living in a Two Story House – Reasons For Divorce</title><content type="html">&lt;pre&gt;A man appears before a judge one day, asking for a divorce. The judge&lt;br /&gt;quietly reviews some papers and then says, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Please tell me why you are seeking a divorce.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Because,&amp;quot; the man says,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;I live in a two-story house.&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Judge replies, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;What kind of a reason is that? What is the big deal about a two-story&lt;br /&gt;house?&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man answers, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Well, Judge, one story is 'I have a headache' and the other story is&lt;br /&gt;'It's that time of the month.'&amp;quot; &lt;/pre&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-1390451829852262945?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Yes, grass snakes, not rattlesnakes. Here's why..    &lt;br /&gt;A couple in Sweetwater , Texas , had a lot of potted plants. During a recent cold spell, the wife was bringing a lot of them indoors to protect them from a possible freeze.     &lt;br /&gt;It turned out that a little green garden grass snake was hidden in one of the plants. When it had warmed up, it slithered out and the wife saw it go under the sofa.     &lt;br /&gt;She let out a very loud scream.     &lt;br /&gt;The husband (who was taking a shower) ran out into the living room naked to see what the problem was. She told him there was a snake under the sofa.     &lt;br /&gt;He got down on the floor on his hands and knees to look for it. About that time the family dog came and     &lt;br /&gt;Cold-nosed him on the behind. He thought the snake had bitten him, so he screamed and fell over on the floor.     &lt;br /&gt;His wife thought he had had a heart attack, so she covered him up, told him to lie still and called an ambulance.     &lt;br /&gt;The attendants rushed in, would not listen to his protests, loaded him on the stretcher, and started carrying him out.     &lt;br /&gt;About that time, the snake came out from under the sofa and the Emergency Medical Technician saw it and dropped his end of the stretcher. That's when the man broke his leg and why he is still in the hospital.     &lt;br /&gt;The wife still had the problem of the snake in the house, so she called on a neighbor who volunteered to capture the snake. He armed himself with a rolled-up newspaper and began poking under the couch. Soon he decided it was gone and told the woman, who sat down on the sofa in relief.     &lt;br /&gt;But while relaxing, her hand dangled in between the cushions, where she felt the snake     &lt;br /&gt;Wriggling around. She screamed and fainted, the snake rushed back under the sofa.     &lt;br /&gt;The neighbor man, seeing her lying there passed out, tried to use CPR to revive her.     &lt;br /&gt;The neighbor's wife, who had just returned from shopping at the grocery store, saw her husband's mouth on the woman's mouth and slammed her husband in the back of the head with a bag of canned goods, knocking him out and cutting his scalp to a point where it needed stitches.     &lt;br /&gt;The noise woke the woman from her dead faint and she saw her neighbor lying on the floor with his wife bending over him, so she assumed that the snake had bitten him. She went to the kitchen and got a small bottle of whiskey, and began pouring it down the man's throat.     &lt;br /&gt;By now, the police had arrived.     &lt;br /&gt;Breathe here......     &lt;br /&gt;They saw the unconscious man, smelled the whiskey, and assumed that a drunken fight had occurred. They were about to arrest them all, when the women tried to explain how it all happened over a little green snake.     &lt;br /&gt;The police called an ambulance, which took away the neighbor and his sobbing wife.     &lt;br /&gt;Now, the little snake again crawled out from under the sofa and one of the policemen drew his gun and fired at it. He missed the snake and hit the leg of the end table. The table fell over, the lamp on it shattered and, as the bulb broke, it started a fire in the drapes.     &lt;br /&gt;The other policeman tried to beat out the flames, and fell through the window into the yard on top of the family dog who, startled, jumped out and raced into the street, where an oncoming car swerved to avoid it and smashed into the parked police car.     &lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, neighbors saw the burning drapes and called in the fire department. The firemen had started raising the fire ladder when they were halfway down the street. The rising ladder tore out the overhead wires, put out the power, and disconnected the telephones in a ten-square city block area (but they did get the house fire out).     &lt;br /&gt;Time passed! Both men were discharged from the hospital, the house was repaired, the dog came home, the police acquired a new car and all was right with their world.     &lt;br /&gt;A while later they were watching TV and the weatherman announced a cold snap for that night. The wife asked her husband if he thought they should bring in their plants for the night.     &lt;br /&gt;And that's when he shot her. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6399721637117842064?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CrV0LSMiIBWxeSc4eJ4oAY913rM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CrV0LSMiIBWxeSc4eJ4oAY913rM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/gul46tLNpcM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/7161082293406559904/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=7161082293406559904&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7161082293406559904" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7161082293406559904" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/gul46tLNpcM/philosophy-exam.html" title="Philosophy Exam" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/philosophy-exam.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-6331680712498561797</id><published>2009-07-27T20:15:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T20:15:16.663+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Men_vs_Women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Women" /><title type="text">Five rules for men to follow for a happy life</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Five rules for men to follow for a happy life.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;It’s important to have a woman who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It’s important to have a woman who you can make laugh.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It’s important to have a woman who you can trust and who doesn’t lie to you.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It’s important to have a woman who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It’s very, very important that these four women do not know each other.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6331680712498561797?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5EyaoeR5X15Hp5Z_YoXVDGiQVng/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5EyaoeR5X15Hp5Z_YoXVDGiQVng/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/4RV4lcph5js" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/6331680712498561797/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=6331680712498561797&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6331680712498561797" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6331680712498561797" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/4RV4lcph5js/five-rules-for-men-to-follow-for-happy.html" title="Five rules for men to follow for a happy life" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/five-rules-for-men-to-follow-for-happy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-2033921822296901009</id><published>2009-07-05T12:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T12:14:52.816+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Little_Johnny" /><title type="text">Young Charlie</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Young Charlie is having trouble with his first grade addition homework,   &lt;br /&gt;so his father decides to help.&amp;#160; He teaches the Charlie how to add small    &lt;br /&gt;numbers by counting on his fingers.&amp;#160; Eventually, the little boy becomes quite    &lt;br /&gt;good.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;But remember,&amp;quot; the father says, &amp;quot;you can't use your fingers in school    &lt;br /&gt;-- you'll have to do it in your head.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; The next day at school, the teacher calls on Charlie and asks him &amp;quot;what is    &lt;br /&gt;five plus five?&amp;quot;&amp;#160; Charlie starts to raise his hands, but remembering what    &lt;br /&gt;his father said, hides them in his pockets.&amp;#160; After a few seconds of counting,    &lt;br /&gt;Charlie announces &amp;quot;Eleven!&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-2033921822296901009?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WDB01_S8LzGivZHVdGbhT8Stnzs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WDB01_S8LzGivZHVdGbhT8Stnzs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/-lm_DzfI4Qk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/2033921822296901009/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=2033921822296901009&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/2033921822296901009" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/2033921822296901009" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/-lm_DzfI4Qk/young-charlie.html" title="Young Charlie" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/young-charlie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-407965476269936433</id><published>2009-07-05T10:02:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T10:02:44.258+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Old_Men" /><title type="text">The Old Lumberjack</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;A little withered old man walks into a timber company office, and applies   &lt;br /&gt;for a job as a lumberjack.&amp;#160; The foreman politely tries to talk him out of the    &lt;br /&gt;idea.&amp;#160; After all, he is old, small, and apparently much too weak to fell    &lt;br /&gt;trees.&amp;#160; The old man picks up an axe and walks over to a huge redwood.&amp;#160; As he    &lt;br /&gt;goes to work, a high-pitched whine comes from the axe, chips of wood fly    &lt;br /&gt;everywhere, and the odour of burning wood fills the air.&amp;#160; In record time, the    &lt;br /&gt;old man is finished chopping down the tree.    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;That's just astounding,&amp;quot; the foreman says, &amp;quot;wherever did you learn to    &lt;br /&gt;chop down trees like that?&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Well now,&amp;quot; the old man smiles, &amp;quot;have you ever heard of the Sahara    &lt;br /&gt;Forest?&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;You mean the Sahara Desert.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Sure, that's what it's called NOW...&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-407965476269936433?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YD7k3-pjkJ5vigpKKwYZxaZtn5A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YD7k3-pjkJ5vigpKKwYZxaZtn5A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/n8te6bPdKnY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/407965476269936433/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=407965476269936433&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/407965476269936433" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/407965476269936433" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/n8te6bPdKnY/old-lumberjack.html" title="The Old Lumberjack" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/old-lumberjack.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-5264459200538098798</id><published>2009-07-05T09:55:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T09:55:50.454+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wise" /><title type="text">Never</title><content type="html">&lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Never argue with a fool...people may not be able to tell you apart.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never claim as a right that which you can ask as a favor.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never climb a fence when you can sit on it.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never do card tricks for the group you play poker with.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never eat prunes when you are famished.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never embezzle more than your employer can afford.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never get into a fight with an ugly person. He has nothing to lose.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never have so many people understood so little about so much.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never invest in anything that eats or needs repainting.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never let your sense of morality stop you from doing what is right.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never make the same mistake twice...there are so many new ones to make!&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never marry a woman who prays too much.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never mistake good manners for good will.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never play leapfrog with a unicorn.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never question your wife's judgement...look whom she married.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never step in anything soft.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never trust anyone who laughs at his own one-liners.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never try to teach a pig how to sing. It is a waste of time and it annoys the pig.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never underestimate the power of stupidity.&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Never, ever trust anyone under 30 or over 25.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-5264459200538098798?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YCT1anaqB2Vqcf2WVys0ayvu3xE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YCT1anaqB2Vqcf2WVys0ayvu3xE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/n5SPQQyqT38" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/5264459200538098798/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=5264459200538098798&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/5264459200538098798" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/5264459200538098798" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/n5SPQQyqT38/never.html" title="Never" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/never.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-5827305814051623709</id><published>2009-07-05T09:49:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T09:49:20.730+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Boom_Boom" /><title type="text">A pirate at the bar</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;A seaman meets a pirate in a bar, and talk turns to their adventures on the sea. The seaman notes that the pirate has a peg-leg, a hook, and an eye patch.   &lt;br /&gt;The seaman asks, &amp;quot;So, how did you end up with the peg-leg?&amp;quot; The pirate replies, &amp;quot;We were in a storm at sea, and I was swept overboard into a school of sharks. Just as my men were pulling me out, a shark bit my leg off.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Wow!&amp;quot; said the seaman. &amp;quot;What about your hook&amp;quot;? &amp;quot;Well&amp;quot;, replied the pirate, &amp;quot;We were boarding an enemy ship and were battling the other sailors with swords. One of the enemy cut my hand off.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Incredible!&amp;quot; remarked the seaman. &amp;quot;How did you get the eye patch&amp;quot;? &amp;quot;A seagull dropping fell into my eye,&amp;quot; replied the pirate.    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?,&amp;quot; the sailor asked incredulously. &amp;quot;Well,&amp;quot; said the pirate, &amp;quot;it was my first day with my hook&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-5827305814051623709?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTbV0NI_HzqLfCBPwc689hHgPco/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTbV0NI_HzqLfCBPwc689hHgPco/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/X1GlbmdJ1xc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/5827305814051623709/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=5827305814051623709&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/5827305814051623709" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/5827305814051623709" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/X1GlbmdJ1xc/pirate-at-bar.html" title="A pirate at the bar" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/07/pirate-at-bar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-6475473907309655165</id><published>2009-06-08T22:03:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T22:03:25.657+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="religion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="playonwords" /><title type="text">Adam and Eve – Sunday School Snooze</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Ten year old Mary was sat in Sunday school dozing off during a Jesus lecture. Realising she wasn't paying attention, the teacher said, &amp;quot;Mary, who is our Lord?&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;Billy, the boy sat behind Mary, poked her in the back with his pencil. Mary leapt up and cried &amp;quot;Jesus Christ!&amp;quot;     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Very good, Mary,&amp;quot; said the teacher, carrying on with the lecture. Mary went back to her dozing.     &lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes the teacher said, &amp;quot;Mary, give us an example of blasphemy.&amp;quot;     &lt;br /&gt;Billy leant forward and poked Mary in the back with his pencil again. &amp;quot;Oh my God!&amp;quot; Mary yelled.     &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Very good, Mary,&amp;quot; said the teacher. Mary went back to her dozing.     &lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later the teacher said, &amp;quot;Mary, what did Eve say to Adam after their 26th child?&amp;quot;     &lt;br /&gt;Billy poked Mary in the back with his pencil again. Mary leapt up and screamed &amp;quot;If you stick that thing in me one more time I'll break it!&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6475473907309655165?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj4P8RNuvvyIwXgewqupbqq4OjQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj4P8RNuvvyIwXgewqupbqq4OjQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj4P8RNuvvyIwXgewqupbqq4OjQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj4P8RNuvvyIwXgewqupbqq4OjQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/pTB57hdTSKc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/6475473907309655165/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=6475473907309655165&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6475473907309655165" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6475473907309655165" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/pTB57hdTSKc/adam-and-eve-sunday-school-snooze.html" title="Adam and Eve – Sunday School Snooze" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/06/adam-and-eve-sunday-school-snooze.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-3458204600125322467</id><published>2009-05-04T12:06:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T12:12:12.888+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wise" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="playonwords" /><title type="text">ANCIENT CONFUSED WISDOM</title><content type="html">&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Those who jump off a bridge in Paris are in Seine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A backward poet writes inverse.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Dijon vu - the same mustard as before.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Practice safe eating - always use condiments.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A hangover is the wrath of grapes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Reading while sunbathing makes you well red.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two tired.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; What's the definition of a will? (It's a dead giveaway.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; She was engaged to a boyfriend with a wooden leg but broke it off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Local Area Network in Australia: the LAN down under.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Every calendar's days are numbered.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A lot of money is tainted - It t'aint yours and it t'aint mine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; He had a photographic memory that was never developed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A plateau is a high form of flattery.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; A midget fortune-teller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Once you've seen one shopping center, you've seen a mall.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Acupuncture is a jab well done&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-3458204600125322467?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VlMq6UZUMGND7eGBCRXg3_y_ZWM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VlMq6UZUMGND7eGBCRXg3_y_ZWM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VlMq6UZUMGND7eGBCRXg3_y_ZWM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VlMq6UZUMGND7eGBCRXg3_y_ZWM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/7aaErHxAdJE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/3458204600125322467/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=3458204600125322467&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/3458204600125322467" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/3458204600125322467" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/7aaErHxAdJE/ancient-confused-wisdom.html" title="ANCIENT CONFUSED WISDOM" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/05/ancient-confused-wisdom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-7816568128446340348</id><published>2009-04-15T10:28:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T10:29:55.747+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="General" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="playonwords" /><title type="text">Author of Hokey Pokey Dies</title><content type="html">&lt;pre wrap=""&gt;In Memorium&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;br /&gt;With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world now, it is&lt;br /&gt;worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which&lt;br /&gt;almost went unnoticed last week. Larry LaPrise, who wrote "The Hokey&lt;br /&gt;Pokey", died peacefully at age 93.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin.&lt;br /&gt; They put his left leg in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then when the trouble started.&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-7816568128446340348?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a-Y1scn-uzZ59xfd1Oh6TI6bwgg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a-Y1scn-uzZ59xfd1Oh6TI6bwgg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a-Y1scn-uzZ59xfd1Oh6TI6bwgg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a-Y1scn-uzZ59xfd1Oh6TI6bwgg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/dlV5Vz5eV2c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/7816568128446340348/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=7816568128446340348&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7816568128446340348" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7816568128446340348" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/dlV5Vz5eV2c/author-of-hokey-pokey-dies.html" title="Author of Hokey Pokey Dies" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/04/author-of-hokey-pokey-dies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-7610341819921595687</id><published>2009-04-01T15:45:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T15:47:41.687+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="playonwords" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother" /><title type="text">SouthWest Airlines Flight Attendant Joke</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;A mother and her young son were flying South-West Airlines from Kansas City to Chicago. The little boy (who had been looking out the window) turned to his mother and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes".&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;The mother (who couldn't think of an answer) suggested that her son go ask the flight attendant. So the boy went down the aisle and asked the flight attendant, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;The busy flight attendant smiled and said "Did your mother tell you to ask me?" The boy said "Yes, she did."&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;"Well, then you go back and tell your mother that there are no baby planes because Southwest always pulls out on time. Have your mother explain &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;THAT&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; to you."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-7610341819921595687?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/spOlwZow1inHezQt73x-ce6rB3w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/spOlwZow1inHezQt73x-ce6rB3w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/spOlwZow1inHezQt73x-ce6rB3w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/spOlwZow1inHezQt73x-ce6rB3w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/OS8d3ZcMA3w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/7610341819921595687/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=7610341819921595687&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7610341819921595687" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7610341819921595687" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/OS8d3ZcMA3w/southwest-airlines-flight-attendant.html" title="SouthWest Airlines Flight Attendant Joke" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/04/southwest-airlines-flight-attendant.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-1374267385573188086</id><published>2009-03-28T07:30:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-03-28T07:32:04.575Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Old_Men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="politics" /><title type="text">Massive Heart Attack</title><content type="html">An elderly man suffered a massive heart attack. The family drove wildly&lt;br /&gt;to get him to the emergency room. After what seemed like a very long&lt;br /&gt;wait, the ER Doctor appeared, wearing his scrubs and a long face. Sadly,&lt;br /&gt;he said, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm afraid he is brain-dead, his heart is still beating." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Dear God," cried his wife, her hands clasped against her cheeks&lt;br /&gt;with shock! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We've never had a Democrat in the family before!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-1374267385573188086?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PAqNdpPmB9WoMdG4hqxX2aBgeLY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PAqNdpPmB9WoMdG4hqxX2aBgeLY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PAqNdpPmB9WoMdG4hqxX2aBgeLY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PAqNdpPmB9WoMdG4hqxX2aBgeLY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/IUStUKLBiR8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/1374267385573188086/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=1374267385573188086&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/1374267385573188086" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/1374267385573188086" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/IUStUKLBiR8/massive-heart-attack.html" title="Massive Heart Attack" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/03/massive-heart-attack.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-7081697723461672157</id><published>2009-03-28T07:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-03-28T07:28:47.832Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Old_Men" /><title type="text">Major Historical Event</title><content type="html">My niece's class assignment was to interview a senior citizen about his&lt;br /&gt;or her life, so she asked me, "What was the biggest historical event&lt;br /&gt;that happened during your childhood?" &lt;br /&gt;"I'd have to say the moonwalk," I replied. &lt;br /&gt;She looked disappointed. "Why was that dance was so important to you?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-7081697723461672157?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ztE_PynjobVJO3TIwVIdzN19lF4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ztE_PynjobVJO3TIwVIdzN19lF4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ztE_PynjobVJO3TIwVIdzN19lF4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ztE_PynjobVJO3TIwVIdzN19lF4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/JzkqLgXoSfk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/7081697723461672157/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=7081697723461672157&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7081697723461672157" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/7081697723461672157" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/JzkqLgXoSfk/major-historical-event.html" title="Major Historical Event" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/03/major-historical-event.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-438297709016964624</id><published>2009-03-18T08:20:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-03-18T08:24:09.481Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wise" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moral" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="could_be_true" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="story" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="funny_stories" /><title type="text">A retirement dinner</title><content type="html">A priest was being honored at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A leading local politician and member of the congregation was chosen to make the presentation and give a little speech at the dinner.   As he was delayed, the priest decided to speak while they waited: &lt;br /&gt;"I got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here.. I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place. The very first person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a television set and, when questioned by the police, was able to lie his&lt;br /&gt;way out of it. He had stolen money from his parents, embezzled from his employer, had an affair with his boss's wife, taken illegal drugs, and gave VD to his sister. &lt;br /&gt;I was appalled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, as the days went on I learned my people were not all like that and I had, indeed, come to a fine parish full of good and loving people." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as the priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at being late. He immediately began to make the presentation and gave his talk: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never forget the first day our parish priest arrived. In fact, I had the honor of being the first person to go to him for confession.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Moral of this story: Never,  Never,  Never Ever, Be Late&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-438297709016964624?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Y4rNm2ShfYi3drDm8g3GOUR_4s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Y4rNm2ShfYi3drDm8g3GOUR_4s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/vcfupWmwVug" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/438297709016964624/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=438297709016964624&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/438297709016964624" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/438297709016964624" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/vcfupWmwVug/retirement-dinner.html" title="A retirement dinner" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/03/retirement-dinner.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-5761229344378412737</id><published>2009-03-08T15:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-03-08T15:21:59.485Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="video" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="college" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><title type="text">College Humor Prank War 7: The Half Million Dollar Basketball Shot</title><content type="html">&lt;object width="660" height="525"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/zjld2f8vIas&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/zjld2f8vIas&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="525"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-5761229344378412737?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p82F8Pek7SZFyOtXirQlOb9dyu8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p82F8Pek7SZFyOtXirQlOb9dyu8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/EUxp2oYJQUU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/999240313513770310/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=999240313513770310&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/999240313513770310" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/999240313513770310" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/EUxp2oYJQUU/3-dead-bodies-with-smile-on-their-face.html" title="3 dead bodies with a smile on their face" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/03/3-dead-bodies-with-smile-on-their-face.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-6860667892915318541</id><published>2009-01-23T11:29:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:29:56.521Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Men_vs_Women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="chauvinist" /><title type="text">FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW TO A HAPPY LIFE</title><content type="html">&lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;It's important to have a woman, who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job. &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It's important to have a woman, who can make you laugh. &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It's important to have a woman, who you can trust and who doesn't lie to you. &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It's important to have a woman, who is good in bed and who likes to be with you. &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;It's very, very important that these four women do not know each other. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-6860667892915318541?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ed8LQ-E5vrouSDb4DU1tC1DsnkU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ed8LQ-E5vrouSDb4DU1tC1DsnkU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~4/cDbjz0ATu6k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/6860667892915318541/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135546&amp;postID=6860667892915318541&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6860667892915318541" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9135546/posts/default/6860667892915318541" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ticklingTheBone/~3/cDbjz0ATu6k/five-rules-for-men-to-follow-to-happy.html" title="FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW TO A HAPPY LIFE" /><author><name>blogs@yaps4u.net</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05368731097542109062</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14025919340502251846" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ticklingthebone.com/humour/2009/01/five-rules-for-men-to-follow-to-happy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9135546.post-4297127539935998992</id><published>2009-01-20T13:47:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-01-20T13:47:27.375Z</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="video" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="visual" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="US" /><title type="text">A Case of Curious Forrest Button Gumps</title><content type="html">&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bh3fdylgU2w&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bh3fdylgU2w&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9135546-4297127539935998992?l=ticklingthebone.com%2Fhumour'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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