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The manager of a large office noticed a new man one day and told him to come into his office. "What is your name?" was the first thing the manager asked the new guy. "John," the new guy replied. The manager scowled, "Look, I don't know what kind of a namby-pamby place you worked at before, but I don't call anyone by his first name. It breeds familiarity and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my employees by their last name only - Smith, Jones, Baker - that's all. I am to be referred to only as Mr. Robertson. Now that we got that straight, what is your last name?" The new guy sighed and said, "Darling. My name is John Darling." "Okay, John, the next thing I want to tell you is..." Свети Петър Портиер в американски хотел се оплаква на колегата си: A redhead, a brunette and a blonde are sitting around a table and about to open their lunches. The redhead opens hers to find a chicken sandwich. "I always get a chicken sandwich everyday. If I get one more, I'm going to shoot myself." The brunette opens hers and gets a peanut butter sandwich. She says, "This really sucks. If I get this again, I'm going to commit suicide with you." The blonde opens hers and gets her usual ham sandwich. "I hate this! I'll join you two if this happens again tomorrow." The next day all three girls are sitting really nervously at the table. The redhead opens her lunch and gets a chicken sandwich. "No!", she screams and shoots herself on the spot. The brunette opens hers, praying for a change, but finds her same old peanut butter sandwich. Speechless she jumps off the building. The blonde opens hers and yet again find a ham sandwich. She screams and also plunges out the window to her death. A couple of days later the Moms are at the funerals talking to each other. The redheaded mother cries out "I don't know why she did that. I would have changed her food." The brunette's mother sobs " I thought she liked the food I made for her." The confused blonde mother says " I don't know understand. She always made her own lunches." *** This guy sitting at the bar one day tells the bartender "I'll bet you a beer I can bite my right eye." The bartender agrees. The guy at the bar takes out his glass eye and bites it. The bartender gives him a beer. The next day the same guy walks into the same bar and says "Hey bartender, how about making your money back? I'll bet you $100 that you can take the smallest shot glass you've got, slide it across the bar as fast as you can and I'll piss in it without getting one drop on your bar." The bartender figures this is impossible so he agrees.The guy stands up on the bar and the bartender takes this tiny shot glass and whizzes it down the bar. The guy pisses all over the bar and all over the bartender. He doesn't even get a drop in the glass. The bartender is so happy at finally outsmarting the guy he's laughing up a storm. The guy steps down from the bar with glee hands the bartender $100 and buys the whole bar a round. The bewildered bartender asks the guy "How can you be so happy ? You just lost $100." The guy says "Yea, but I just bet that table full of bankers over there $1000 that I could piss all over you, your bar and make you laugh about it. *** After a long illness, a woman died and arrived at the Gates of Heaven. While she was waiting for Saint Peter to greet her, she peeked through the Gates and saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting all around were her parents and all the other people she had loved and who had died before her. They saw her and began calling greetings to her. When Saint Peter came by, the woman said to him, "This is such a wonderful place! How do I get in?" "You have to spell a word," Saint Peter told her. "Which word?" the woman asked. "Love." The woman correctly spelled "Love" and Saint Peter welcomed her into Heaven. About six months later, Saint Peter came to the woman and asked her to watch the Gates of Heaven for him that day. While she was guarding the Gates, her husband arrived. "I'm surprised to see you!" the woman said. "How have you been?" "Oh, I've been doing pretty well since you died," her husband told her. "I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won the lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a big mansion. My new wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation and I went water skiing. I fell, the ski hit my head, and here I am. How do I get past the gates?" "You have to spell a word," the woman told him. "Which word?" her husband asked. "Czechoslovakia." QUESTION: ANSWER: 1) The Catholic's approach to characters: The nice characters go to character heaven, where life is good. The characters are bathed in the light of happiness, all their troubles are soothed, and there's not a delete key, eraser, or white-out bottle in sight. Most of the nice characters are A's and I's, those that have never been, er, involved with other characters. Often, you'll see A's or I's with N's or T's. These are characters in love: monogamous on the page, together again after deletion. You'll see quite a few Q's too. They seem to feel particularly guilty for no good reason. The naughty characters are punished for their sins. In case you were wondering what the difference between a nice character and a naughty character is, I'll tell you. Naughty characters are those involved in the creation of naughty words, such as "breast," "sex," "objectivity," and depending upon usage, words such as "feminism," "reproductive freedom," "contraception," and "science." You may ask, and rightly so, why the characters are blamed for the words they assemble, when in fact they are not responsible for their own configuration. But we feel that a character has an obligation to oppose any aughtiness in its own configuration. If it truly felt guilty about the word it was forming, it would rebel. 2) The Buddhist Explanation: If a character has lived rightly, and its karma is good, then after it has been deleted it will be reincarnated as a different, higher character. Those funny characters above the numbers on your keyboard will become numbers, numbers will become letters, lower-case letters will become upper-case, and the most righteous and good of letters will become C's. Why C, you ask? Who knows, but C it is! If a character's karma is not so good, then it will move down the above scale, ultimately becoming the lowest of characters, a space. 3) The 20th Century bitter cynical nihilist explanation: Who cares? All characters are the same, swirling in a vast sea of meaningless nothingness. It doesn't really matter if they're on the page, deleted, undeleted, underlined, etc. It's all the same. More characters should delete themselves. (nihilist characters are easy to identify. They're usually pale and tragic, and they smoke a lot.) 4) The Mac user's explanation: All the characters written on a PC and then deleted go straight to PC hell. If you're using a PC, you can probably see the deleted characters, because you're in PC hell also. 5) Stephen King's explanation: Every time you hit the <Del> key you unleash a tiny monster inside the cursor, who tears the poor unsuspecting characters to shreds, drinks their blood, then eats them, bones and all. Hah, hah, hah! 6) Dave Barry's explanation: The deleted characters are shipped to Battle Creek, Michigan, where they're made into Pop-Tart filling; this explains why Pop-Tarts are so flammable, while cheap imitations are not as flammable. I'm not making any of this up. 7) IBM's explanation: The characters are not real. They exist only on the screen when they are needed, as concepts, so to delete them is merely to de-conceptualize them. Get a life. 8) PETA's Explanation: You've been DELETING them???? Can't you hear them SCREAMING??? Why don't you go CLUB some BABY SEALS while wearing a MINK, you pig!!!!!! An escaped convict broke into a house and tied up a young couple who had been sleeping in the bedroom. As soon as he had a chance, the husband turned to his voluptuous young wife, bound up on the bed in a skimpy nightgown, and whispered, "Honey, this guy hasn't seen a woman in years. Just cooperate with anything he wants. If he wants to have sex with you, just go along with it and pretend you like it. Our lives depend on it." There is a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere where the following are stranded: *Two Italian men and one Italian woman A month later on the deserted island, the following has occurred: *One Italian man has killed the other for the Italian woman *The two Frenchmen and the French woman are living happily together in a menage-a-trois. *The two German men have strict weekly schedule of when they alternate with the German woman. *The two Greek men are sleeping with each other, and the Greek woman is doing the cooking and cleaning *The two Englishmen are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English woman *The Bulgarian men took a long look at the endless ocean and one look at the Bulgarian woman and started swimming. *The two American men are contemplating the virtues of suicide, while the American woman keeps on complaining about her body being her own, the true nature of feminism, and how she can do everything the men can do, about the necessity of fulfillment, the equal division of household chores, how her last boyfriend respected her opinion and treated her much better, and how her relationship with her mother is improving. But at least the taxes are low and it's not raining. *The Irish began by dividing up their island Northside/Southside and setting up a distillery. They don't remember if sex is in the picture because it gets sort of foggy after the first few liters of Coconut whiskey, but at least the English aren't getting any. A first grade teacher had a small number of children gathered around a table for a reading group. After the story was read she gave the children a work sheet to do. While they were working she heard a little girl say very softly "damn!" The teacher leaned over and said quietly, "We don't say that in school." The little girl looked at the teacher, her eyes got very big and she said, "Not even when things are all fucked up?" An employment recruiter ("headhunter") inadvertently sents a letter to man requesting his resume. Dear Sir: I am a recruiter in Dallas that specializes in placing students from key colleges in the positions they desire to be in with my clients across the nation. I work with companies of all sizes and industries. I received your name from several other members of the "Association of Former Students" here at Texas A&M University that I am currently working with. Feel comfortable that your information is confidential with my company. I would like to discuss whether you are currently in the market or even keeping your eyes open for the right opportunity. I would like to see a current copy of your resume to see what opportunities that you may be perfect for. Please send your resume via e-mail or fax to my attention, and I will follow up with you in the next few days to determine your level of interest. I thank you in advance for your response. Please e-mail me back at <xxxxxxx@..." , or call me direct at (800)880-xxxx Extension ##xxx. Sincerely, Aaron McCartney An A-10 pilot actual reply follows the request: Dear Mr. McCartney: This is in response to the email you sent me regarding your services as recruiter. Currently I am employed as a US Air Force Fighter Pilot flying A-10 Thunderbolts for the 25TH Fighter Squadron, Osan AB, Republic of Korea. My contract with the USAF does not expire until 2006. Here are some of my qualifications nonetheless, just in case any of your clients are need of someone with my expertise: 1. The ability to employ my aircraft, the feared A-10 Warthog, as one of the most capable ground attack/CAS platforms in the world. 2. Protect South Korea from communist hordes led by the Great Pornographer, Kim Jung Ill. 3. Drop cluster munitions from 10,000 feet onto unsuspecting DANKS (dumb ass north Koreans) and send 202 individual bomblets of wrath and fury into their starving, bloated, pink bodies. 4. Take a 6000 foot slant range Forced-No-Solution High-angle gun shot and kill troops in their wimpy little APC's with reckless abandon. (Do you have any idea, Mr. McCartney, what a 30mm Armor Piercing Incendiary round that is as long as your forearm does as it boars through a tank's walls like Jell-O? Let me tell you, it's not pretty.) 5. Get wicked-ass-drunk at the Officer's club on Friday nights, smokin' big fat Cuban cigars (this is Korea, not the US), drink Gin and Tonics like water, throw furniture off the roof, say 'fuck' a lot, and piss off all the wives and hapless souls who hate our guts because they are not fighter pilots. Mr. McCartney, I have no idea how to "hold a meeting," "do a memo," "take a lunch," "think outside the box" or even sit behind a desk for that matter. I only eat, sleep, fly, and drink. I am an instrument of national policy the likes of which your clients probably have never seen. I would just as much detonate a 500 pound Mark 82 Air Burst 20 feet above a DANK playground than wander through some corporate office blabbering about business plans and the latest episode of Ally "eat a friggin sandwich" McBeal. Thank you for your letter and please let me know if any of your associates show interest in my capabilities. I look forward to hearing from you. A professor of mathematics sent a fax to his wife: Dear Wife: With Love, Your Husband When he arrived at the hotel, there was a faxed letter waiting for him that read as follows: Dear Husband: With Love, Your Wife Я хочу умереть во сне, как мой дядя, тихой, спокойной смертью, прожив долгую жизнь... This boy just takes his girlfriend back to her home after being out together, and when they reach the front door he leans with one hand on the wall and says to her, "Sweetie, why don't you give me a blowjob?" "What? You're crazy???!!!" "No!! Someone may see; a relative, a neighbour..." "I've already said NO, and NO!" At this moment the younger sister shows up at the door in nightgown with hair totally in disorder, rubbing her eyes and says. "Dad says either you have to blow him, I have to blow him, or he will come down and give the guy a blowjob himself, but for God's sake tell your boyfriend to take his hand off the intercom!" Three beggars are begging in New York City. The first one wrote "beg" on his broken steel cup and he received ten bucks after one day. Two Italians, Luigi and Antonio, met on the street. "Hey, Antonio," said Luigi. "Where you been for the past two weeks? No one seen you around." "Dona talka to me, Luigi," replied Antonio. "I been inna jail." "Jail!" exclaimed Luigi. "What for you been in jail?" "Wella, Luigi," Antonio said, "I was lying onna dis beach, and the cops come, arrest me and throw me inna jail." "But dey dona throw you in jail just for lying onna da beach!", Luigi countered. "Yeah, but dis beach was screamin' and akickin' and ayellin'!" A teacher asks her class if anyone could use the word indefinitely in a sentence. Well, Little Johnny has his hand raised in the back of the class. But the teacher knows he's got a filthy mouth and that he doesn't know the answer, so she calls on Jim. Two deaf people get married. During the first week of marriage, they find that they are unable to communicate in the bedroom when they turn off the lights because they can't see each other using sign language. After several nights of fumbling around and misunderstandings, the wife decides to find a solution. | |
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My name is Radostina Georgieva, "Roddy".I live in California.
I enjoy travelling, reading books, listening to music, going to the movies.
I am constantly looking for ways to challenge myself, learn, and grow.
1. Last names
