Pope’s Research

The Pope dies and, naturally, goes to heaven. He’s met by the reception committee, and after a whirlwind tour he is told that he can enjoy any of the myriad of recreations available.

He decides that he wants to read all of the ancient original text of the Holy Scriptures, so he spends the next eon or so
learning the languages.

After becoming a linguistic master, he sits down in the library and begins to pour over every version of the Bible, working back from the most recent “Easy Reading” to the original script. All of a sudden there is a scream in the library.

The Angels come running in only to find the Pope huddled in his chair, crying to himself, and muttering, “An ‘R’! The scribes left out the ‘R’.”

A particularly concerned Angel takes him aside, offering comfort, and asks him what the problem is and what does he mean.

After collecting his wits, the Pope sobs again, “It’s the letter ‘R’. They left out the ‘R’. The word was supposed to be CELEBRATE!”

Tragedy!

Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died yesterday of a severe yeast infection. He was 71. Fresh was buried in one of the largest funeral ceremonies in recent years.

Dozens of celebrities turned out including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, and the Hostess Twinkies. The graveside was piled high with flours as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who “never knew how much he was kneaded.”

Fresh, rose quickly in show-bread business, but his later life was filled with many turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes.

Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model for millions. Fresh is survived by his second wife. They have two children and one in the oven.

The funeral will be tomorrow at 4:50 for about 20 minutes.

Thinking???

What Are You Thinking?
by John Scalzi

The question this time, from the men’s side of the table: what should you do when the women you’re with asks you: “What are you thinking?”

Every male in the world has had to deal with this question, which is more often than not uncorked at entirely inappropriate times, such as when you are watching sports, locked in a passionate embrace, or reeling in a feisty marlin from the Gulf of Mexico. Regardless of what you’re doing, you must come up with a complete and satisfactory answer, or stand accused of Hiding Your True Feelings. Which means, of course, you’ll spend the next week pretending to be sorry. So you’ve got to come up with something. And it had better be good.

Now, the obvious question here is: WHY do women want to know what we’re thinking? Simple: they assume we’re thinking in the first place. Hard to believe, but there it is.

Why on earth would they think that? Well, go up to a woman and ask her what she is thinking. I have just done so with my wife, and this is what she is thinking about:

“Off the top of my head, I’m thinking about the party we’re having Saturday, and how I’m going to fix that chandelier in the front room so that people can walk around without hitting their heads. Underneath that I’m thinking about my work schedule this week and whether or not I’m going to have time to do some of the things I need to do at home as well. And under that I’m wondering if it’s too late to get tickets on a plane to Ohio for Christmas. AND I’m thinking about getting a snack.”

Not only is she thinking about something, she’s thinking about four separate things. If I check back in five minutes, she’ll still be thinking. Women are always thinking, and often about practical things.

Men, on the other hand, are actively thinking for about five minutes out of every hour (usually not in sequence). So, at best, you have a one in 12 chance of catching a man actually having a thought. What are we thinking about?

1. Sex
2. Food
3. Steve Miller tunes
4. Sports
5. “Beavis & Butthead”
6. Sex
7. Work
8. The black unknowable nothingness that frames out existence, and whether a benevolent and omnipotent higher power can possibly exist within it (or Beer).
9. Sleep
10. Sex

In summary, randomly asking a man what he’s thinking has precisely a 8.83% chance of turning up a real, verifiable, honest-to-God thought. You might as well bet on the New York Jets. Sound harsh, guys? Fine. Quick — what are you thinking? Had to think about it, didn’t you. You lose.

Sit down.

Despite the overwhelming evidence that men, in fact, are almost never thinking, women will still demand to know their innermost thoughts. In a way, it’s touching; women are expressing faith that, if prodded long enough and frequently enough, they may yet boost the number of times we think in an hour. And they will. Unfortunately, most of what we’ll be thinking is “stop asking me what I’m thinking.” And that’s just going to get us in trouble.

The best way to keep a woman from constantly asking you what you are thinking is to have a ready, pre-memorized answer for the times that she does. Here are some tried and true responses, with the pros and cons of each:

“I’m thinking that tonight it’d be nice to stay at home and sit by the fire together.”

Pros: Romantic; Sounds as if you’re spontaneous.
Cons: Requires fireplace (or a cement floor and ventilation); Romantic moments often prompt even more “What are you thinking” queries.

“I’m thinking how much I love you.”

Pros: Generally provokes a positive response that short circuits any need for further conversation; Is often also true.
Cons: If you use it too much, she’ll know it’s a line, and then you’re really in trouble.

“I was wondering if there is actually life on other planets.”

Pros: Cosmic; Shows you are a deep thinker.
Cons: Woman may wonder if this is an intro. to the same sort of “alien sigmoidoscopy” story that ruined her last relationship.

“I was imagining, if I were an animal, what sort of animal I’d be.”

Pros: Imaginative; Allows woman to spend many happy minutes trying to establish your place in the animal kingdom.
Cons: She might think you resemble a marmoset or skink; She may forego the animal world altogether and go straight to yeasts.

“I’m just thinking about how true the lyrics to ‘Dust in the Wind’ really are.”
Pros: Shows depth of musical knowledge; As last resort to forestall conversation, you may break out into song.
Cons: If she’s a connoisseur of 70s melodic rock, you may find yourself in a bitter, divisive quarrel about which is deeper, “Dust” or Aerosmith’s “Dream On”.

Keep in mind that these responses are not to supersede an actual thought. If you find yourself having one at the moment she asks, go ahead and share it, as long as it’s not something along the lines of “This relationship blows” or “I really like margarine”. With a little practice, you should come out okay.

But, hey. That’s just what I think.

Deathbed Question

A man lies on his deathbed, surrounded by his family: a weeping wife and four children. Three of the children are tall, good-looking and athletic; but the fourth and youngest is an ugly runt.

“Darling wife,” the husband whispers, “assure me that the youngest child really is mine. I want to know the truth before I die, I will.”

The wife gently interrupts him. “Yes, my dearest, absolutely, no question, I swear on my mother’s grave that you are his father.”

The man then dies, happy.

The wife mutters under her breath: “Thank God he didn’t ask about the other three.”

The Man Who Loved Beans

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him. One day he met a girl and fell in love. When it was apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, “She’ll never go through with the marriage with me carrying on lke this” so he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Shortly after that they were married.

A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down and since they lived in the country, he ‘phoned his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk. On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him.

Since he still had several miles to walk he thought he would walk off any ill effects before he got home. So he went in and ordered three extra large helpings of beans. All the way home he farted. By the time he arrived home he felt reasonably safe.

His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, “Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!” She put a blindfold on him and led him to his chair at
the head of the table and made him promise not to peek. At this point he was beginning to feel another fart coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the phone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned and went to answer the phone.

While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him. He had just started to feel better when another urge came on. He raised his leg and rriiipppp! It sounded like a diesel engine revving and smelled worse. To keep himself from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate. Things had just about returned to normal when he felt another urge coming. He shifted his weight to his other leg and let go. This was a real blue ribbon winner; the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead. While keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next 10 minutes, farting and then fanning each time with his napkin.

When he heard the phone farewells (indicating the end of his loneliness and freedom) he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence when his wife walked in.

Apologising for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he ahd not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled “SURPRISE!”

To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party.

Ogling

WHAT TO SAY WHEN YOU ARE CAUGHT
——————————-
A personal guide to what men should say when caught looking at another woman by their wife or girlfriend.

– I can’t believe that outfit she is wearing. (Said disdainfully)

– Look at that guy… over there… behind the woman.

– I think that’s a man dressed as a woman. (Incredulous)

– Isn’t that the actress from the movie Delicatessen? (Chances are she hasn’t seen that movie- and neither have you, but you will get brownie points naming a foreign film, and it will be just obtuse enough to distract her

– I think that’s the girl I knew from high school who eventually joined a convent (or was committed to an asylum) and turned out to be a real nut cass

– Help me, I got something in my eye… can’t see a thing!

– I was staring off into space because I was about to have an epiphany about the direction of my life and the nature of my love for you, but its gone now, thank you very much!

– Hey that’s the loser I dumped in order to go out with you. Boy am I glad I ever got away from her. What a moron.

– I know you’re probably thinking I was staring at a beautiful woman, but to me she is like one of those fancy bakery cakes that looks good, but then you have a bite and it is so sweet that it makes you sick. She makes me sick. (It helps if you convulse a little at the end here.. maybe it will camouflage your drool).

– I was just thinking how I felt sorry for her – since she can never hold a candle to you (this one might only get you punched, but its worth a try).

– Do you think she’s prettier than me? (Give her a taste of her own medicine)

Stress Release Exercise

Effective Relaxation Technique

Feeling Stressed Out?

Picture yourself near a stream.

Birds are softly chirping in the crisp cool mountain air.

Nothing can bother you here. No one knows this secret place.

You are in total seclusion from that place called “the world.”

The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

The water is clear.

You can easily make out the face of the person whose head you’re holding under the water.

Olaf

Olaf died in a fire and his body was so badly burned that the morgue needed someone to I.D. the body. So they called up his two friends Swen and Lars to come and try to I.D. the body.

Swen went in and the mortician pulled back the sheet and Swen said “Yaa, he’s burnt pretty bad. Roll him over.” So the mortician rolled him over and Swen looked at his butt and said “No, dat ain’t Olaf.” The mortician didn’t say any thing but thought that was kind of strange.

Then he brought in Lars to I.D. the body, Lars looked at him and said “Yaa he’s burnt real bad, roll him over.” The mortician rolled him over and Lars looked at his butt and said “No dat ain’t Olaf.”

The mortician said “How can you tell?” Lars said “Well Olaf had two buttholes.”

“What? he had two buttholes?” said the mortician. “Yaa, everyone in town knew he had two buttholes. Every time the three of us went to town everyone would say “Here comes Olaf with them two buttholes!”

New Software

Millennia Year Application Software System

This memo is to announce the development of a new firm-wide software system. We are currently building a data center that will contain all firm data that is Year 2000 compliant. The program is referred to as the “Millennia Year Application Software System” (MYASS). Next Monday at 9:00 there will be a meeting in which I will show MYASS to everyone. We will continue to hold demonstrations throughout the month so that all employees will have an opportunity to get a good look at MYASS.

As for the status of the implementation of the program, I have not addressed the networking aspects so currently only one person at a time can use MYASS. This restriction will be removed after MYASS expands. Several people are using the program already and have come to depend on it. Just this morning I walked into a subordinate’s office and was not surprised to find that he had his nose buried in MYASS.

I’ve noticed that some of the less technical personnel are somewhat afraid of MYASS. Just last week, when asked to enter some information into the program, I had a secretary say to me “I’m a little nervous, I’ve never put anything in MYASS before.” I volunteered to help her through her first time and when we were through she admitted that it was relatively painless and she was actually looking forward to doing it again. She went so far as to say that after using SAP and Oracle, she was ready to kiss MYASS.

I know there are concerns over the virus that was found in MYASS upon initial installation, but I am pleased to say the virus has been eliminated and we were able to save MYASS. In the future, however, protection will be required prior to entering MYASS. We planned this database to encompass all information associated with the business. So as you begin using the program, feel free to put anything you want into MYASS. As MYASS grows larger, we envision a time when it will be commonplace to walk by an office and see a manager hand a paper to an employee and say “Here, stick this in MYASS”.

This program has already demonstrated great benefit to the company during recent OSHA and EPA audits. After requesting certain historical data the agency representatives were amazed at how quickly we provided the information. When asked how the numbers could be retrieved so rapidly our environmental Manager proudly stated “Simple, I just pulled them out of MYASS.

Male Headaches

Joe was moderately successful in the career, but as he got older he was increasingly hampered by incredible headaches. When his personal hygiene and love life started to suffer, he sought medical help. After being referred from one specialist to another, he finally came across a doctor who solved the problem. “The good news is I can cure your headaches. The bad news is that it will require castration. You have a very rare condition that causes your testicles to press up against the base of your spine. The pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the pressure is to remove the testicles.”

Joe was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he has anything to live for. He couldn’t concentrate long enough to answer, but decided he had no choice but to go under the knife.

Afterward, although his mind was clear as he left the hospital, he felt like he was missing an important part of himself. As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life.

He walked past a men’s clothing store and thought, “That’s what I need: a new suit.” He entered the shop and told the salesman, “I’d like a new suit.” The salesman eyed him briefly and said, “Let’s see . . . size 44 long.” Joe laughed, “That’s right, how did you know?”

The salesman responded, “It’s my job.”

Joe tried on the suit. It fit perfectly. As Joe admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, “How about a new shirt?” Joe thought for a moment and then said, “Sure . .” The salesman eyed Joe and said, “Let’s see. . . 34 sleeve and . . . 16 and a half neck.” Joe was surprised, “That’s right, how did you know?”

“It’s my job.”

Joe tried on the shirt, and it fit perfectly. As Joe adjusted the collar in the mirror, the salesman asked, “How about new shoes?” Joe was on a roll and said, “Sure . . .” The salesman eyed Joe’s feet and said, “Let’s see. . . 9 and a half. . . wide.” Joe was astonished, “That’s right, how did you know?”

“It’s my job.”

Joe tried on the shoes and they fit perfectly. Joe walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, “How about a new hat?” Without hesitating, Joe said, “Sure . . ” The salesman eyed Joe’s head and said, “Let’s see. . . 7 5/8.” Joe was incredulous, “That’s right, how did you know?”

“It’s my job.”

The hat fit perfectly. Joe was feeling great, when the salesman asked, “How about some new underwear?” Joe thought for a second and said, “Sure . . ” The salesman stepped back, eyed Joe’s waist, and said, “Let’s see . . . . . . size 36.”

Joe laughed, “No, I’ve worn size 34 since I was 18 years old.”

The salesman shook his head, “You can’t wear a size 34. If you did, it would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache.”