Finding Nemo in my pants

"Is that what this is about???? Two punk *ss quarters?!?"

The Wash

blue and anything that looks like flames

Ready to Rumble in my pants

See No Evil in my pants

Dorfus Bubblelips

A fireman came home from work one day and told his wife, "You know, we
have a wonderful system at the fire station: BELL 1 ring’s and we all
put on our jackets. BELL 2 rings and we all slide down the pole. BELL 3
rings and we're on the fire truck ready to go.

"From now on when I say BELL 1, I want you to strip naked. When I say
BELL 2, I want you to jump in bed. And when I say BELL 3, we are going
to make love all night."

The next night he came home from work and yelled, "BELL 1!" The wife
promptly took all her clothes off. When he yelled "BELL 2!" the wife
jumped into bed. When he yelled "BELL 3!" they began making love.

After a few minutes the wife yelled "BELL 4!"

"What the hell is BELL 4?" asked the husband?

"Roll out more hose," she replied, "you’re no where near the fire!"

TEN THINGS TO PONDER FOR 2007


10. Life is sexually transmitted.

9. Good health is merely the slowest rate at which one can die

8. Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an
erection, make him a sandwich.

7. Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach a person to
use the internet and they won't bother you for weeks.

6. Some people are like a slinky. Not really good for anything, but you
still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.

5. Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in the hospital
dying of nothing

4. All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention
to criticism.

3. Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars, and a
substantial tax cut saves you thirty cents???

2. In the 60's, people took LSD to make the world weird. Now the world
is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.


AND THE NUMBER ONE THOUGHT FOR 2007:

We know exactly where one cow with mad cow disease is located among the
millions and millions of cows in America, but we haven't a clue as to
where thousands of Terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the
Department of Agriculture in charge of Homeland Security.

Or like the ones that are on some store bought fire logs that say
warning- not intender for use in fires.

WTF isn't that what you buy them for????

I have always wondered about Freddy myself. OUCH!!!!

A Truckers Story

If this doesn't light your fire..your wood is wet!


I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His
placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.
But I had never had a mntally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I
wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.



He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and
thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of
my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses
tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are
homemade.



The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy
college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish
their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded
"truck stop germ" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense
accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with.
I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely
watched him for the first few weeks.


I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff
wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck
regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.


After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought
of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to
laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties.
Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb
or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our
only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the
customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his
weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a
table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully
bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up
with a practiced flourish of his rag.



If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added
concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had
to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.



Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was
disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social
Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their
social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted
they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid
him was probably the difference between them being able to live
together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the
restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first
morning in three years that Stevie missed work.



He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something
put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome
often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected,
and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good
shape and be back at work in a few months.


A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when
word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.



Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in
the aisle when she heard the good news.


Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight
of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside
his table.



Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering
look.



He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked.


"We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay."


"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was
the surgery about?"


Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at
his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is
going to be OK," she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are
going to handle all the bills. From that I hear, they're barely getting
by as it is." Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off
to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up
a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the
girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.


After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple
paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.



"What's up?" I asked.



"I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting
cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting
there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and
tucked under a coffee cup."


She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when
I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed
"Something For Stevie".



"Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him
about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and
Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me
another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its
outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at
me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers."



That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie
is supposed to be back to work.


His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor
said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday.
He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming,
fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I
arranged have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the
parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.


Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he
pushedthrough the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and
busing cart were waiting.



"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother
by their arms.. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming
back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a
large corner booth at the rear of the room.



I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we
marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth
after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We
stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee
cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens
of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean
up this mess," I said I tried to sound stern..


Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the
napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he
picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.


Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from
beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I
turned to his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on
that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about
your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving,".


Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and
shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.


But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands
and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was
busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.


Best worker I ever hired.



Plant a seed and watch it grow.



At this point, you can bury this inspirational message or forward it
fulfilling the need!



If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate
person.



Well.. Don't just sit there! Send this story on!

Lil' Johnny goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?" Dad says,
"Well son, let me try to explain it this way. I'm the breadwinner of the
family, so let's call me Capitalism. Mommy is the administrator of the
money, so we'll call her the Government. We're here to take care of your
needs, so we'll call you The People. The nanny, well, consider her The
Working Class. Your baby brother, we'll call him The Future. Now go
think about this and see if it makes sense."

So little Johnny goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying and runs to his room
only to find that his diapers are very soiled. So Little Johnny goes to
his parents room. Mom is sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes
to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he looks through the peep
hole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes
back to bed.

The next morning, Little Johnny says to his father, "Dad, I think I
understand what politics is now."

"Good son, tell me in your own words then what politics are."

Little Johnny replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working
Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and
the Future is in deep sh*t."

"Sounds about right to me, son."

A woman in her fifties is at home, unclothed, happily jumping on her bed
and squealing with delight.

Her husband watches her for a while and asks, "Do you have any idea how
ridiculous you look? What's the matter with you?"

The woman continues to bounce on the bed and says, "I don't care what
you think. I just came from having a mammogram, and the doctor says that
not only am I healthy, but I have the breasts of an 18 year-old."

The husband replies, "What did he say about your 55-year old ass?"



Your name never came up," she replied.

And people wonder why I play golf.....

Koko Elm Street

These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and are
things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now
published by court reporters who had the torment of staying calm while
these xchanges were actually taking place.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?

WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth?

WITNESS: July 18th.

ATTORNEY: What year?

WITNESS: Every year.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?

WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?

WITNESS: I forget.

ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you
forgot?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you?

WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.

ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you?

WITNESS: Forty-five years

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that
morning?

WITNESS: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"

ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?

WITNESS: My name is Susan.

_______________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?

WITNESS: We both do.

ATTORNEY: Voodoo?

WITNESS: We do.

AT TORNEY: You do?

WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his
sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?

WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?

WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty-one.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?

WITNESS: Would you repeat the question?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?

WITNESS: Uh....

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: How many were boys?

WITNESS: None.

ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?

WITNESS: By death.

ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?

WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.

ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?

________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition
notice which I sent to your attorney?

WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead
people?

WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go
to?

WITNESS: Oral.

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?

WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.

ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?

WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an
autopsy on him!

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?

WITNESS: Huh?

___________________________________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a
pulse?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY Did you check for breathing?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you
began the autopsy?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?

WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.

ATTORNEY: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?

WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and
practicing law

A hillbilly was having sex with his sister when she all of the sudden
started laughing.
He asked "what is so funny?"
"You do it like dad does." She replied.
"Funny," he says, "that is what mom said too."