In the hospital where I work, the quality of meals offered in the employees’ cafeteria is a source of aggravation. Once I watched two young surgeons approach the serving line.
After reading the posted menu and looking over the dishes displayed, one doctor turned to the other and remarked, “No doubt about it, this calls for a culinary bypass.” And they left.
A biology teacher wished to demonstrate to his students the harmful effects of alcohol on living organisms. For his experiment, he showed them a beaker with pond water in which there was a thriving civilization of worms. When he added some alcohol into the beaker the worms doubled-up and died.
“Now,” he said,” what do you learn from this?”
An eager student gave his answer.
“Well the answer is obvious,” he said ” if you drink alcohol, you’ll never have worms.”
A young executive was leaving the office late one evening when he found the CEO standing in front of a shredder with a piece of paper in his hand.
“Listen,” said the CEO, “this is a very sensitive and important document here, and my secretary has gone for the night. Can you make this thing work for me?”
“Certainly,” said the young executive. He turned the machine on, inserted the paper, and pressed the start button.
“Excellent, excellent!” said the CEO, as his paper disappeared inside the machine. “I just need one copy…”
As in many homes on New Year’s Day, my wife and I faced the annual conflict of which was more important – the football games on television, or the dinner itself.
To keep peace, I ate dinner with the rest of the family, and even lingered for some pleasant after-dinner conversation before retiring to the family room to turn on the game.
Several minutes later, my wife came downstairs and graciously even bought a cold drink for me. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek and asked what the score was.
I told her it was the end of the third quarter and that the score was still nothing to nothing.
“See?” she said, continuing to smile, “You didn’t miss a thing.”
A guy goes to the Post Office to apply for a job.
The interviewer asks him, “Are you allergic to anything?”
He replies, “Yes, caffeine. I can’t drink coffee.”
“Ok, Have you ever been in the military service?”
“Yes,” he says, “I was in Iraq for one tour.”
The interviewer says, “That will give you 5 extra points toward employment.” Then he asks, “Are you disabled in any way?”
The guy says, “Yes. A bomb exploded near me and I lost both my testicles.”
The interviewer grimaces and then says, “Okay. You’ve got enough points for me to hire you right now.
“Our normal hours are from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm. You can start tomorrow at 10:00 am, and plan on starting at 10:00 am every day.”
The guy is puzzled and asks, “If the work hours are from 8:00 am to 4:00 PM, why don’t you want me here until 10:00 am?”
“This is a government job,” the interviewer says. “For the first two hours, we just stand around drinking coffee and scratching our balls. No point in you coming in for that.”
Following on from last week’s piece about jokes from different countries and how they very often are all about making fun of a neighbouring country or region, I ran across this one the other day which, once again, illustrates the point:
A couple of Canadian Native Americans were driving along a road when they collided with an American car head on. Both Indians and the American were killed instantly.
As they reached heaven, God said “Wait, it’s not your time. You have to go back.”
“How can we go back?” they replied. “Our bodies were mangled in the car accident.”
God pointed to a wishing well and, when they looked down it, they could see the world below them. “I’ll reincarnate you as an animal,” God said, “just say what you want to be and jump in.”
The first Indian ran, jumped into the well and shouted “Eagle!” and he suddenly became a majestic eagle, soaring high.
The second Indian ran to the well, jumped in and shouted “Wolf” and so he became a mighty wolf, running free in the forest.
Astounded and delighted by this the American sprinted towards the well, tripped on a rock and shouted, “Shit!”
“What did your mother do yesterday morning. Vicky?”
“She done her shopping, ma’am.”
“Done her shopping, Vicky? Where’s your grammar?”
“She done her shopping as well, ma’am.”
A group of friends who went deer hunting separated into pairs for the day. That night, one hunter retuned alone, staggering under an eight-point buck.
“Where is Mike?” asked another hunter.
“He fainted a couple of miles up the trail,” Mike’s partner answered.
“You left him lying there alone and carried the deer back?”
“A tough call,” said the hunter. “But I figured no one is going to steal Mike.”
Farmer Joe was in his car when he was hit by a truck. He decided his injuries from the accident were serious enough to take the trucking company (responsible for the accident) to court. In court the trucking company’s fancy lawyer was questioning farmer Joe. “Didn’t you say, at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine’?” said the lawyer.
Farmer Joe responded, “Well I’ll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie into the….” “I didn’t ask for any details,” the lawyer interrupted, “just answer the question.”
“Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine’!”
Farmer Joe said, “Well I had just got Bessie into the trailer and I was driving down the road….”
The lawyer interrupted again and said, “Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the Highway Patrolman on the scene that he was just fine. Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question.”
By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Joe’s answer and said to the lawyer, “I’d like to hear what he has to say about his favorite mule Bessie.”
Joe thanked the Judge and proceeded, “Well as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway when this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my truck right in the side. I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was thrown into the other.
I was hurting real bad and didn’t want to move. However, I could hear ole Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in terrible shape just by her groans.
Shortly after the accident a Highway Patrolman came on the scene. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so he went over to her. After he looked at her, he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes.
Then the Patrolman came across the road with his gun in his hand and looked at me. He said, “Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?”
A married couple was celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary. At the party everybody wanted to know how they managed to stay married so long in this day and age.
The husband responded “When we were first married we came to an agreement. I would make all the major decisions and my wife would make all the minor decisions. And in 60 years of marriage we have never needed to make a major decision.”
Summer was great! The weather forecasters were correct on this occasion – summer lasted from last Thursday until Tuesday of this week. Now, we are back to cold, windy weather with just the spot of occasional rain for variety. It was terrific while it lasted.
Fortunately, last Sunday was outstanding and I was able to get on the bike for a delightful cycle around the neighbouring countryside, as a few photos taken enroute will attest. (Click for a larger version).
I had an intriguing conversation with a motorist who stopped beside me at the side of the road. I had stopped to take a photograph of the view from the top of a hill when this car slowed down and then stopped. I naturally assumed they were about to ask for directions but, as I leant in the passenger side window to enquire in what way I could be of assistance, the woman driving chastised me with some feeling – it seems, in her view, I had stopped in a very dangerous position on the road.
I have to confess, I was somewhat perplexed by her comment so I slowly looked down the road in the direction from which she had come. There was a clear view up the road for something approaching 300 metres so I asked her what exactly she meant. She maintained that my stopping on the road made it difficult for motorists to overtake me safely.
To be fair, the road in the direction we were both heading did curve around to the right after about 100 metres and it was difficult for a motorist to see whether it was safe to overtake me without slowing down. And there was the nub of her “problem.” Although she didn’t admit it, she was clearly annoyed because she had to slow down to overtake this f***ing cyclist and, as I was stopped by the side of the road, decided she would vent her frustration. Of course, she would have had to slow down to overtake me anyway and the fact that I was stopped by the side of the road was neither here nor there. Still, I smiled politely, thanked her for her concern and suggested that if she felt it was dangerous overtaking cyclists, perhaps she should slow down a bit.
Fortunately, I was at the side of the road and did not get sprayed with stones and pebbles as she sped away.
I was at home on Wednesday and Pen was upstairs in the SeamStress workshop labouring away, ably assisted by her mother and sister Judi who had arrived from Toronto the previous morning. At about half past one I wandered up to offer to prepare them each a simple tuna and cheese quesadilla. Penny declined existing, as she is at the moment, on fresh air and shredded cardboard. Interestingly, Beryl and Judi also declined with a somewhat quizzical look on their faces. So, off I went and prepared a very tasty snack. As I was just finishing my repast, they came into the kitchen, enquiring what I was eating. “A tuna fish, cheese and salsa quesadilla,” I replied. The disappointment which crossed their faces was palpable – it seems they had both, independently, assumed I had been offering them a “case of beer” for lunch.
Ms Playchute had a delightedly delightful birthday (I think). She certainly received an abundance of birthday cards and assorted greetings so many, many thanks to all of you who participated. Fortunately, I had remembered and had carried out my birthday shopping on Tuesday afternoon.
One of the items I wanted to purchase was a new, 26cm frying pan so off I went to Banbury’s finest kitchen shop. As I shuffled through the various frying pans on display an assistant appeared and enquired whether she could be of assistance. So, I explained that it was my wife’s birthday and I wanted to purchase a good frying pan.
A look of despair bordering on disgust crossed her face, as if she had just discovered a most unpleasant aroma under her nose. “Are you sure your wife wants a frying pan as a birthday present?” she asked patiently.
I know full well that one should never purchase kitchen utensils or appliances for one’s loved one’s birthday, anniversary or Christmas. I suppose the only thing worse would be to buy her an electric power tool or tickets to a sporting event. So, I sought to reassure the assistant that (a) we needed a frying pan, our previous small frying pan having long ago lost all its non-stickiness, and (b) now that I am somewhat less employed than previously, I am doing more cooking and therefore the frying pan would also be of use to me. Those two “excuses” did not come close to persuading her so I did have to reveal that I also had already purchased several other presents of a more personal and intimate nature and that the frying pan was merely an afterthought bordering on a necessity. Eventually, after much thoughtful consideration, she did allow me to purchase the frying pan and very nice it is too!
We’re off to Surlej in Switzerland for a week from Wednesday so you will be delighted to know that there will definitely be no Befouled Weakly News to constipate your mail boxes next Sunday. Hopefully, the volcano will stay dormant so that we can get there and back and the weather will co-operate while we are there.
Finally, I enjoyed Time’s list of the 50 worst inventions. How could spray on hair thickener not catch on and where is it now that I need it? Have a look here.
Love to you all,
A farmer got pulled over by a state trooper for speeding, and the trooper started to lecture the farmer about his speed and, in general, began to throw his weight around to try to make the farmer uncomfortable.
Finally, the trooper got around to writing out the ticket, and as he was doing that he kept swatting at some flies that were buzzing around his head.
The farmer said, “Having some problems with circle flies there, are ya?”
The trooper stopped writing the ticket and said—”Well yeah, if that’s what they are—I never heard of circle flies.”
So the farmer says, “Well, circle flies are common on farms. See, they’re called circle flies because they’re almost always found circling around the back end of a horse.”
The trooper says, “Oh,” and goes back to writing the ticket. Then after a minute he stops and says, “Hey… wait a minute, are you trying to call me a horse’s ass?”
The farmer says, “Oh no, Officer. I have too much respect for law enforcement and police officers to even think about calling you a horse’s ass.”
The trooper says, “Well, that’s a good thing,” and goes back to writing the ticket.
After a long pause, the farmer says, “Hard to fool them flies though.”
A little old Irishman gets pulled over by a policeman, who says,
“Sir? Do you realize your wife fell out of the car about a mile back?”
The old fella replied, “Oh, thank Christ. I thought I’d gone deaf!”
A middle-aged guy had just been dumped by his wife. So, he decides to go out and buy a shiny, new red BMW Z-3 convertible. He’s driving along at 80 mph, when he sees a flashing light on a police car in the rear view mirror.
“What the hell, he can’t keep up with a BMW,” he thinks to himself. So he floors it.
A few minutes later, he’s overcome with guilt. “Hey! What am I doing,” he thinks? And he slows down and pulls over.
The cop asks him for his license, and walks around the car while he examines both. When the cop gets back to the driver’s door, he says, “It’s Friday the thirteenth. My shift is just about over. I’m tired and I want to go home. If you can give me a good excuse, I’ll let you go.”
The guy thinks for a split second and says…
“My wife just ran away with a policeman. I thought you were trying to give her back.”
Good morning on what looks like it could be one of the final couple of days of summer. And what a blindingly terrific couple of days it has been – sunny, warm (well, into the high 60s or low 70s at any rate) with a lovely clear and crisp bright blue sky decidedly free of volcanic ash (at least as far as we can tell). Apparently, summer is expected to last until Tuesday.
We had our first barbeque of the season on Friday evening. I won’t describe the dreadful state the barbeque was in following my obvious failure to clean it properly after its final outing last autumn – Sandy’s salmon with pesto to judge by the remnants of the fish skin. If I did describe it, Pen would be sickened and I would undoubtedly come down with food poisoning but so far, so good. Heck, I figure that the intense heat will kill off most things, won’t it? And anyway, I did scrape most of the mould and fungus off before firing up the grill.
Having thought about it, perhaps I should have taken greater care to extract the mouldy contents of the grill and submit the remains for medical examination. I might well have accidentally discovered how to create life synthetically and could have been in line for a Nobel prize.
For those interested, I made a recipe from one of the 1,260,000 pages Google returned when I asked for the “best hamburger recipes ever” (and, some of these pages had ten or twelve recipes so there has to be something in the order of about 5 million “best hamburger recipes ever.”) Since I didn’t check, I’m not sure how many might be duplicates but, if you’re looking for a tasty hamburger recipe there are certainly plenty to choose from. The one I made was for bacon double cheese stuffed burgers which were, I have to say, outstanding. A simple recipe, really – make your burgers a bit on the thin and wide size, place some chopped onions and grated cheddar cheese in the middle and place another burger on top, sealing the edges. I added a bit of Cajun spice to the mix and the finished product was rich and juicy with a bit of kick. A fine Bordeaux, a tossed green salad and a potato salad rounded it all off and we finished with a bit of coconut ice cream I’d made earlier in the day. Pretty good!
I also got out for a couple of bike rides during the fine weather and was able to shed, for the first time this season, the long sleeves and lycra leggings which are a necessity during the cooler temperatures. Rest assured, though – I still look pretty damn fine in the short sleeves and cycling shorts.
I did enjoy the following from the Time magazine web site:
On May 7, many Britons woke up to a hung Parliament for the first time ever. Not since 1974 had the U.K. faced such a scenario, which came about because no single party won 326 seats, the magic number needed to hold a majority in the House of Commons.
So, tell me – was it just “many” of us who woke up to a hung Parliament or does it apply to everyone? And, is this the first hung Parliament ever or the first one since 1974? Don’t these institutions employ proof-readers any more?
A couple of photos of some blooms in Penelope’s back garden – they staged their coming out performance on the second day of summer, i.e., yesterday.
Looking forward to Pen’s sister Judi’s arrival on Tuesday for a few weeks. She is always a very welcome house guest. (Not what we say about some, I can assure you!)
Much love to you all,
Lawyer jokes – don’t you love ‘em.
A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San Francisco’s Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.
“Twelve dollars for the rat, sir,” says the shop owner, “and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it.”
“You can keep the story, old man,” he replies, “but I’ll take the rat.”
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him.
By the time he’s walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt.
No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water’s edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it.
Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
“Ah, so you’ve come back for the rest of the story,” says the owner.
“No, I have a much better idea,” says the tourist. “I was wondering if you have a bronze lawyer.”
As a trucker stops for a red light, a blonde catches up. She jumps out of her car, runs up to his truck, and knocks on the door.
The trucker lowers the window, and she says, “Hi, my name is Heather and you are losing some of your load.”
The trucker ignores her and proceeds down the street. When the truck stops for another red light, the girl catches up again. She jumps out of her car, runs up and knocks on the window.
Again, the trucker lowers the window. As if they’ve never spoken, the blonde says brightly, “Hi my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!”
Shaking his head, the trucker ignores her again and continues down the street.
At the third red light, the same thing happens again. All out of breath, the blonde gets out of her car, runs up, knocks on the truck window.
The trucker lowers the window. Again she says, “Hi, my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!”
When the light turns green the trucker revs up and races to the next light. When he stops this time, he hurriedly gets out of the truck, and runs back to the blonde. He knocks on her window, and as she lowers it, he says…
“Hi, my name is Kevin, it’s winter in Minnesota and I’m driving the SALT TRUCK!”
Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day I went downtown and went into a shop. I was only in there for about five minutes and when I came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. I went up to him and said, “Come on, man, how about giving a retired person a break?”
He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I called him a “Nazi.”
He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So I called him a “doughnut eating Gestapo.”
He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.
Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote.
Personally, I didn’t care. I came downtown on the bus!