Friday humour - October 22, 1999

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

On Mon, 25 Oct 1999, Jean wrote:

> Hi,
> We're speculating that it was because you had to get up early on Thursday
> that your whole routine has been thrown out.
> Cheers,

Okay, okay - I can now see that there's been a few emails since Friday
wondering what's happened with the jokes (Jean's is about the most awful
(yet original) theory), but - no, all that happened was that the SS20
(the Unix server with my file volumes) died on Friday evening.  So I
couldn't log in when I got home Fri night.

Anyway, enough of the excuses ... while I'm here, three bits of humour:

First is from Kate D Hawkins (and guess what - she's just left Kodak - new
job in 3 1/2 weeks - hasn't said where yet!).  Fairly short (maybe she's
leaving in a hurry :-)

A Bloke is having a quiet drink in a bar, leans over to the big guy next to
him and says: "Do you wanna hear a Kiwi joke?"

The big guy replies: "Well, mate, before you tell that joke, you should know
something.  I'm six feet tall, 105 kgs and I played rugby as a forward for
the All Blacks.  The guy sitting next to me is 6'2", weighs 115 kgs and he's
an ex All Black lock.  Next to him is a bloke who's 6'5", weighs 120kgs and
he's a current All Black second rower.

Now, do you still want to tell that Kiwi joke?"

The first bloke says: "Nah, not if I'm going to have to explain it three

      Now a couple of recent arrivals from the Westerly list to wrap it up:

                       CLEANER POLISHES OFF PATIENTS

"For several months, our nurses have been baffled to find a patient dead in
the same bed every Friday morning," a spokeswoman for the Pelonomi Hospital
(Free State, South Africa) told reporters.  "There was no apparent cause for
any of the deaths, and extensive checks on the air conditioning system, and a
search for possible bacterial infection, failed to reveal any clues.

However, further inquiries have now revealed the cause of these deaths".
"It seems that every Friday morning a cleaning lady would enter the ward,
remove the plug that powered the patient's life support system, plug her
floor polisher into the vacant socket, then go about her business.  When she
had finished her chores, she would plug the life support machine back in and
leave, unaware that the patient was now dead.  She could not, after all, hear
the screams and eventual death rattle over the whirring of her polisher".

"We are sorry, and have sent a strong letter to the cleaner in question.
Further, the Free State Health and Welfare Department is arranging for an
Electrician to fit an extra socket, so there should be no repetition of this
incident.  The inquiry is now closed."

    (Cape Times).

     This last one is about CYBER SEX, and it gets a trifle steamy in parts,
     so ... be warned:

Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as
"cybersex".  Often the fantasies typed into keyboards and shared through
Internet phone lines get pretty raunchy.  However, as you'll see below, one
of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online chat
doesn't seem to quite get the point of cyber sex.  Then again, maybe he
does ...

    Transcript :-

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart.  What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels, work
out every day, I'm toned and perfect.  My measurements are 36-24-36.
What do you look like?

Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds.  I wear glasses and I have on a pair
of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.  I'm also wearing a T-shirt
with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner ... it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you.  Would you like to screw me?

Wellhung: Well, okay

Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.  There's soft music playing on the stereo
and candles on my dresser and night table.  I'm looking up into your eyes,
smiling.  My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your
huge, swelling bulge.

Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.  My hands are trembling.

Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.

Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.  The cool silk slides off
my warm skin.  I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in
your blouse.  I'm sorry.

Sweetheart: That's okay - it wasn't really too expensive.

Wellhung: I'll pay for it.

Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.  I'm wearing a lacy black bra.  My soft
breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.  I think it's stuck.  Do
you have any scissors?

Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.  I'm reaching back undoing
the clasp.  The bra slides off my body.  The air caresses my breasts.  My
nipples are erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that?  I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the

Sweetheart: I'm arching my back.  Oh baby.  I just want to feel your tongue
all over me.

Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra.  Now I'm licking your ... you know ...
breasts.  They're neat!

Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair.  Now I'm nibbling your

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze.  Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm so sorry.  Really.

Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my

Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you.  I drop it with a plop.

Sweetheart: Okay.  I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard ----

Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman.  Your hands are cold!  Yeeee!

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt.  Take off my panties.

Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties.  My tongue is going all over, in and
out nibbling on you ... umm ... wait a minute.

Sweetheart: What's the matter?

Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat.  I'm choking.

Sweetheart: Are you okay?

Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit.  I'm turning all red.

Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly.  I'm fumbling through
the cabinets, looking for a cup.  Where do you keep your cups?

Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water.  There, that's better.

Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.

Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

Wellhung: I'm drying the cup.  Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet.  And
now I'm walking back to the bedroom.  Wait, it's dark, I'm lost.  Where's the

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants.  I'm moaning.  I want you so badly.

Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off.  I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies
pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face.  It hurts.

Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: Okay, but I can't see very well without them.  I place the glasses
on the night table.

Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed.  Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee.  I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and
toward the bathroom.

Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark.  I'm feeling around for the
toilet.  I lift the lid.

Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: I'm done going.  I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I
can't find it.  Uh-oh!

Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

Wellhung: I've realised that I've peed into your laundry hamper.  Sorry again.
I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

Sweetheart: Mmm, yes.  Come on.

Wellhung: Okay, now I'm going to put my ... you know ... thing ... in your ...
you know ... woman's thing.

Sweetheart: Yes!  Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt.  It feels so nice.  I kiss your
neck.  Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.

Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning.  I can't stand it
another second!  Slide in!  Screw me now!

Wellhung: I'm flaccid.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm limp.  I can't sustain an erection.

Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my

Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm
going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.

Sweetheart: No, never mind.  I'm getting dressed.  I'm putting on my
underwear.  Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait!  Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table.  I'm
feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames
and your candles.

Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse.  Now I'm putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: I've found my glasses.  I'm putting them on.  My God!  One of our
candles fell on the curtain.  The curtain is on fire!  I'm pointing at it, in a
shocked look on my face.

Sweetheart: Go to hell.  I'm logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: And now the carpet is on fire!  Oh, no-o-o-o .. !!

Sweetheart: [logged off]
[ End Fri (really Tues) humour ]

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