Some More Funnies!!!




FROM THE MANAGEMENT


It has been brought to management's attention that some individuals throughout the company have been using foul language during the course of normal conversation with their co-workers.

Due to complaints received from some employees who may be easily offended, this type of language will be no longer tolerated.

We do however, realize the critical importance of being able to accurately express your feelings when communicating with co-workers, therefore, a list of 'try saying' new phrases has been provided so that proper exchange of ideas and information can continue in an effective manner without risk of offending our more sensitive employees. So...

Try saying: Really? Instead of: You've got to be shitting me.

Try saying: Of course I'm concerned. Instead of: Ask me if I give a shit.

Try saying: Perhaps you should check with... Instead of: Tell someone who gives a shit.

Try saying: That's interesting. Instead of: What the fuck?!?!

Try saying: Are you sure this is a problem? Instead of: Who the fuck cares?

Try saying: Excuse me sir? Instead of: Eat shit and die motherfucker.

Try saying: So you weren't happy with it? Instead of: Kiss my ass.

Try saying: I see. Instead of: Blow me.

Try saying: Yes, we really should discuss it. Instead of: Another fucking meeting!!!







NEWSBREAK


Poland's worst air disaster occurred today when a small two-seater Cessna plane crashed into a cemetery early this afternoon in central Poland. Polish search and rescue workers have recovered 826 bodies so far and expect that number to climb as digging continues into the night.







Subject: CLASS REUNION, a womans perspective


I'd prepared for it like any * intelligent* woman would. I went on a starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight would just melt off in 24-hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim, high-school-girl body. The many years of careful cellulite collection would just be gone with a snap of a finger. I knew that if I didn't eat a morsel on Friday, could fit into my senior formal on Saturday.

Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag, carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, and thought, "Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back ..." Bodies never have pockets where you need them. Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering dress, stepping gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned, and pulled ... and I got the formal all the way up to my knees before the zipper gave out.

I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night away. Okay, one setback was not going to spoil my mood for this affair. No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the corner, I turned to Plan B. The black velvet caftan. I gathered up all the goodies that I'd purchased at the drug store; the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo & conditioner, and the split end killer and shine enhancer.

Soon my hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads. Then the makeup - the under eye "ain't no lines here" firming cream, the all day face-lifting gravity fighting moisturizer with wrinkle filler spackle; the all day "kiss me till my lips bleed, and see if this gloss will come off" lipstick, the bronzing face powder for that special glow...but first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear.

OK - time to get ready...I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped, lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my body to a tingling pink. I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with the anti-wrinkle, gravity fighting, "your face will look like a baby's butt" face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers. I felt wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, . . .my underwear.

With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body, I pulled out the black, lacy, tummy-tucking, cellulite-pushing, hamhock-rounding girdle, and the matching "lifting those bosoms like they're filled with helium" bra. I greased my body with scented body lotion and begin the plunge. I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted, shimmied, popped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar crawled, and kicked. Sweat poured off my forehead, but I was done.And it didn't look bad. So, I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, "Rubber baby buggy bumper butt?" Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't move from my butt cheeks to my knees.

But I was firm! Oh no ... I had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch. From now on undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and re-stitch the crotch with Velcro. But the pain factor from past experiments was still fresh in my mind. I quickly side stepped to the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and repeated the struggle into the girdle. I was ready for the bra. I remembered what the saleslady said to do. I could see her glossed lips mouthing, "Do not fasten the bra in the front, and twist it around put the bra on the way it should be worn -- straps over the shoulders, bend over and gently place both breasts inside the cups." Easy if you have four hands.

But, with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and pulled the bra down ... but the boobs were not cooperating. I'd no sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first would slip out. I needed a strategy. I bounced up & down a few times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that didn't work. So while bent over, I began rocking gently back and forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging.' Finally, on the fourth swing, pause, and lift! I captured the gliding glands.

Quickly fastening the back of the bra I stood up for an exam. Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror. I smiled. Yes, Houston, we have lift up!

My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was happy until I tried to look down. I had a chinrest. And I couldn't see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Why did I buy heels with buckles? And then I had to pee again. Think I'll go fix myself a drink and skip the F___ing reunion!







I NEEED A MAN!


A few months after his parents were divorced, little Johnny passed by his mom's bedroom and saw her rubbing her body and moaning, "I need a man! I need a man!" Over the next couple of months, he saw her doing this several times.

One day, he came home from school and heard her moaning again. When he peeked into her bedroom, he saw a man on top of her. Little Johnny ran into his room, took off his clothes, threw himself on his bed, started stroking himself, and moaned, "I need a bike! I need a bike!"






THE JOB INTERVIEW


At the end of a job interview, the human resources person asked a young engineer just out of MIT what kind of salary he was looking for. "In the neighborhood of $140,000 a year, depending on the benefits package," he said. "Well, what would you say to a package of 5-weeks vacation, 14 paid holidays, full medical and dental, company matching retirement fund to 50% of salary, and a company car...say, a red Corvette?" "Wow! Are you kidding?" responded the engineer. "Yeah, but you started it."