Friday humour - January 31, 2003

     From Davo at bluehaze:


G'day cobbers - welcome to - and thank God it's ... Friday.

 Click here

Apologies to those who (like me) got FH a fortnight ago as an attachment.
Sorry about that!

No stone will go unturned as we look for the evil devil that caused this
debarticle.  I didn't do anything differently - and Pine is usually pretty
stable.  I always say when something goes wrong you should (to avoid any
discomfort and embarrassment) blame someone who's not there to defend
themself.  So let's blame Tony!  He's been on hols for the entirety of
this month - while some of us have been hard at it.  Some have even been
working a little.  When the Great Man returns we'll string him up in the
Flagstaff Gardens and give him a decent flogging.

Trouble is - he'll probably enjoy it!     :)

For readers not resident in Melbourne we had our second hottest day ever
recorded last Saturday.  44.1 degrees Celsius.  For the
metrically-challenged that's 111.4 Fahrenheit - which is bloody hot!  We
trust Tony's concrete set OK.

Tampa is getting quite a name here.  Not only was it the Norwegian vessel
that was turned around - and turned around Oz's last federal election - but
the Tampa Bay Buccaneers won the Super Bowl last Sunday.

Hey - 56 days to go before they bounce the air conveyance in front of the
Magpie and Tiger supporters!


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First up this week is from Finance Guru Gary

                               FUNNY POEM ENDINGS

These are entries to a competition asking for a rhyme with the most romantic
first line but least romantic second line:

1. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
   But I only slept with you, because I was pissed

2. I thought that I could love no other
   Until, that is, I met your brother

3. Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
   But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty
   and so is your head.

4. Of loving beauty you float with grace
   If only you could hide your face

5. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot.
   This describes everything you're not

6. I want to feel your sweet embrace
   But don't take that paper bag off your face

7. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
   Dang, I'm good at telling lies!

8. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife
   Marrying you screwed up my life

9. I see your face when I am dreaming
   That's why I always wake up screaming

10. My love, you take my breath away
    What have you stepped in to smell this way

11. My feelings for you no words can tell
    Except for maybe "go to hell"

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   Next one's from Trina

                      TWAS THE MONTH AFTER CHRISTMAS

Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house Nothing would fit
me, not even a blouse. The biscuits I'd nibbled, the champagne I'd taste.
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvellous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese.
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt.
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can "You can't spend all Summer disguised as a
man!"
So-away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
"Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a biscuit-not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot scones, or cake, or fruit pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore---
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to laugh, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!


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And a couple from British Knickers

                            AUSSIE LOVE POEM

OF COURSE I LOVE YA DARLING
YOUR A BLOODY TOP NOTCH BIRD
AND WHEN I SAY UR GORGEOUS
I MEAN EVERY SINGLE WORD

SO YA BUM IS ON THE BIG SIDE
I DON'T MIND A BIT OF FLAB
IT MEANS THAT WHEN I'M READY
THERE'S SOMETHIN THERE TO GRAB

SO YOUR BELLY ISN'T FLAT NO MORE
I TELL YA, I DON'T CARE
SO LONG AS WHEN I CUDDLE YA
I CAN GET MY ARMS AROUND THERE

NO SHEILA WHO IS YOUR AGE
HAS NICE ROUND PERKY BREASTS
THEY JUST GAVE INTO GRAVITY
BUT I KNOW YA DID YA BEST

IM TELLIN YA THE TRUTH NOW
I NEVER TELL YA LIES
I THINK ITS VERY SEXY
THAT YOUV GOT DIMPLES ON YA THIGHS

I SWEAR ON ME NANNAS GRAVE
NOW THE MOMENT THAT WE MET
I THOUGHT U WAS AS GOOD
AS I WAS EVER GONNA GET

NO MATTER WOT U LOOK LIKE
ILL ALWAYS LOVE YA DEAR
NOW SHUT UP WHILE THE FOOTY'S ON
AND GET ME ANOTHER BEER!


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     Two from KeroSteve ...

                               HAPPY JAPPY

A dustman is going along a street picking up the wheely bins and emptying
them into his dustcart lorry.

He gets to one house where the bin hasn't been left out so he has a quick
look for it, goes round the back but still can't see it so he knocks on the
door. There's no answer so he knocks again.

Eventually a Japanese bloke answers. "Harro," says the jappy chappy.

"Alright mate, where's your bin?" asks the dustman.

"I bin on toilet," replies the Japanese bloke, looking perplexed.

Realising the Japanese fellow has misunderstood, the binman smiles and says,
"No mate, where's ya dust bin?"

"I dust bin on toilet I tol you" says the Japanese man.

"Mate," says the dustman, "you're misunderstanding me. Where's your Wheely
Bin?"

"OK, OK!" says the Jap, "I wheely bin having wank."


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            METAPHORS FOUND IN NSW YEAR 12 ENGLISH ESSAYS

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
compressed by a Thigh Master.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes
with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature
prime English beef.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
surcharge-free ATM.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with
vegetable soup.

>From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal
quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Sex in the City"
comes on at 7:00 pm instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them
in hot oil.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
never met.

Even in his last years, Grandad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that
had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a
while.

"Oh, Jason, take me!"; she panted, her breasts heaving like a Uni student on
$1-a-beer night.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real
duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind
her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she
were a garbage truck backing up.

She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the
wall.


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   This weeks graphics come from Knightly Doug, Trina, Michael the Chap, Mad
   Mick, Brett the stud, Golden Colin, and probably Ben, KeroSteve, and you
   know that you must be the other one.

   Nothing from good old Highett Dave as the Allnutt family (what's left) are
   moving to innercity up-market Fitzroy to join the latte set.  It'll be
   just like Lou Richards moving to Toorak - so much for the land values!

On aging Click here

Ladies - Behave Click here

Safety warning Click here

Bus ad#1 Click here

Bus ad#2 Click here

Thanks Mr Vice President Click here

Beer and nuts Click here

Super jump! Click here

Come in Tower Click here

PWC launching Click here

Great pic! Sunset from space Click here

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    Back to plain text with a quickie sickie from Lee at the Uni

                                 TWINS

A woman has twins, and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a
family in Egypt, and is named "Amal." The other goes to a family in Spain;
they name him "Juan."

Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his mum. Upon receiving the
picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of
Amal. Her husband responds,

"But they are twins - if you've seen Juan, you've seen Amal."

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                 THE GOOD OL' AUSSIE BARBECUE - THE HIERACHY

Gary was at the BBQ and Joel was at the BBQ and I was at the BBQ; three
men standing around a BBQ, sipping beer, staring at sausages, rolling them
backwards and forwards, never leaving them alone. We didn't know why we were
at the BBQ, we were just drawn there like moths to a flame. The BBQ was a
powerful gravitational force, a man-magnet.

Joel said the thin ones could use a turn, I said yeah I reckon the thin ones
could use a turn, Gary said yeah they really need a turn - it was a unanimous
turning decision. Gary was the Tong-master, a true artist. He gave a couple
of practice snaps of his long silver tongs, SNAP SNAP, before moving in,
prodding, teasing, and with an elegant flick of his wrist, rolling them onto
their little backs. A lesser tong-man would've flicked too hard; the sausages
would've gone full circle, back to where they started.

Nice, I said. The others went yeah.

Kevin was passing us, he heard the siren song - sizzle of the snags, the
BBQ was calling, beckoning, Kevinnnnn... come. He stuck his head in and said
any room? We said yeah and began the BBQ shuffle; Gary shuffled to the left,
Joel shuffled to the left, I shuffled to the left, Kevin Slipped in beside me,
we sipped our beer.

Now there were four of us staring at sausages, and Gary gave me the nod,
my cue. I was second-in-command, and I had to take the raw sausages out of
the plastic bag and lay them on the BBQ; not too close together, not too far
apart, curl them into each other's bodies like lovers - fat ones, thin ones,
herbed and continental.

The chipolatas were tiny, they could easily slip down between the grill,
falling into the molten hot-bead-netherworld below. Carefully I laid them
sideways ACROSS the grill, clever thinking. Gary snapped his tongs with
approval; there was no greater BBQ honour.

Phil came along, he said looking good, looking good - the irresistible lure
of the BBQ had pulled him in too. We said yeah and did the shuffle, left,
left, left, left, he slipped in beside Kevin, we sipped our beer.

Five men, lots of sausages. Joel was the Fork-pronger; he had the fork that
pronged the tough hides of the Bavarian bratwursts and he showed lots of
promise. Stabbing away eagerly, leaving perfect little vampire holes up and
down the casing. Phil was shaking his head, he said I reckon they cook better
if you don't poke them.

There was a long silence, you could have heard a chipolata drop; this newcomer
was a rabble-rouser, bringing in his crazy ideas from outside. He didn't
understand the hierarchy; first the Tong-master, then the Sausage-layer,
then the Fork-pronger and everyone below was just a watcher. Maybe eventually
they'll move up the ladder, but for now - don't rock the Weber.

Dianne popped her head in; hmmm, smells good, she said. She was trying to jostle
into the circle; we closed ranks, pulling our heads down and our shoulders in,
mumbling yeah yeah yeah, but making no room for her.

She was keen, going round to the far side of the BBQ, heading for the only
available space ... the gap in the circle where all the smoke and ashes
blew. Nobody could survive the gap; Dianne was going to try. She stood there
stubbornly, smoke blinding her eyes, ashes filling her nostrils, sausage-fat
spattering all over her arms and face. Until she couldn't take it anymore,
she gave up, backed off.

Kevin waited till she was gone and sipped his beer. We sipped our beer; yeah.

Gary handed me his tongs. I looked at him and he nodded. I knew what was
happening, I'd waited a long time for this moment - the abdication. The
tongs weighed heavy in my hands, firm in my grip - was I ready for the
responsibility? Yes, I was. I held them up high and they glinted in the sun.

Don't forget to turn the thin ones Gary said as he walked away from the BBQ,
disappearing toward the house. Yeah I called back, I will, I will. I snapped
them twice, SNAP SNAP, before moving in, prodding, teasing, and with an
elegant flick of my wrist, rolling them back onto their little bellies. I
was a natural, I was the TONG-MASTER.

Until Gary got back from the toilet.

(c) 1998 Danny Katz

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    Quote of the Week ...

 "Mr. Bush has not yet made a concerted effort to explain to Americans
  and foreign allies why his administration is preparing to launch an
  invasion of Iraq that will involve painful costs and considerable
  risks."

          - Editorial on George W Bush's "State of the Union" address
            Washington Post

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[ End Fri humour ]


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