<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:28:06.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RSR HUMOR</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;a href="http://reubensandwichreview.blogspot.com"&gt;Reuben Sandwich Review&lt;/a&gt; humor section.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>96</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591356461310476</id><published>2005-05-12T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:59:24.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Texas surgeons</title><content type='html'>Three Texas surgeons were playing golf together and discussing surgeries they had performed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them said, "I'm the best surgeon in Texas. A concert pianist lost 7 fingers in an accident. I reattached them, and 8 months later he performed a private concert for the Queen of England." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the others said "That's nothing. A young man lost both arms and legs in an accident. I reattached them, and 2 years later he won a gold medal in field events in the Olympics." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third surgeon said, "You guys are amateurs. Several years ago a cowboy who was high on cocaine and alcohol rode a horse head-on into a train traveling 80 miles an hour. All I had left to work with was the horse's ass and a cowboy hat. Now he's president of the United States."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591356461310476?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591356461310476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591356461310476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/three-texas-surgeons.html' title='Three Texas surgeons'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591343243916351</id><published>2005-05-12T08:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:57:12.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dysfunctional Section of a Hallmark Card Store...</title><content type='html'>1. I always wanted to have someone to hold, someone to love. And now that you've come into my life...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - I've changed my mind.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 2. I must admit, you brought religion into my life...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - I never believed in Hell until I met you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 3. As the days go by, I think how lucky I am....&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - That you're not here to ruin it for me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 4. Congratulations on your promotion. Before you go....&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - Will you take the knife from my back? You'll probably need it again.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 5. Someday I hope to marry...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - Someone other than you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 6. Happy Birthday! You look great for your age....&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - Almost lifelike!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 7. When we were together, you said you'd die for me...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card! ) - Now we've broken up, I think it's time to keep your promise.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 8. We've been friends for a very long time...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - What do you say we stop?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 9. I'm so miserable without you...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - It's almost like you're still here.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 10. Congratulations on your new bundle of joy....&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - Did you ever find out who the father was?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 11. You are such a good friend. If we were on a sinking ship and there was only one life jacket...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - I'd miss you terribly and think of you often.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 12. Your friends and I wanted to do something special for your birthday...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - So we're having you put to sleep.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 13. Happy Birthday, Uncle Dad!&lt;br /&gt;(Available only in Alabama, Mississippi, and Arkansas)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 14. Looking back over the years we've been together, I can't help but wonder...!&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - What was I thinking?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; 15. Congratulations on your wedding day!...&lt;br /&gt;(Inside card) - Too bad no one likes your husband.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591343243916351?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591343243916351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591343243916351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/dysfunctional-section-of-hallmark-card.html' title='The Dysfunctional Section of a Hallmark Card Store...'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591337687229772</id><published>2005-05-12T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:56:16.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing Salesman</title><content type='html'>A young guy from Texas moves to California and goes to a big mega-department store looking for a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager says, "Do you have any sales experience?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid says, "Yeah, I was a salesman back home in Texas." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the boss liked the kid so he gave him the job.&lt;br /&gt;"You can start tomorrow. I'll come down after we close and see how you did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first day on the job was rough, but he got through it.&lt;br /&gt;After the store was locked up, the boss came down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How many sales did you make today?" the boss asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid says, "One." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss says, "Just one? Our sales people average 20 to 30 sales a day. How much was the sale for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid says, $101,237.64." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss says, $101,237.64? What the hell did you sell?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid says, "First I sold him a small fish hook. Then I sold him a medium fish hook. Then I sold him a larger fish hook. Then I sold him a new fishing rod. Then I asked him where he was going fishing and he said down the coast, so I told him he was going to need a boat, so we went down to the boat department and I sold him that twin engine Chris Craft. Then he said he didn't think his Honda Civic would pull it, so I took him down to the automotive department and sold him that 4 x 4 Blazer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss said, "A guy came in here to buy a fish hook and you sold him a boat and truck?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid says, "No, he came in here to buy a box of tampons for his wife and I said, "Well, your weekend's shot -- you might as well go fishing."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591337687229772?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591337687229772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591337687229772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/fishing-salesman.html' title='Fishing Salesman'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591328043306690</id><published>2005-05-12T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:54:40.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Male Dominance</title><content type='html'>Everybody on earth dies and goes to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God comes and says, "I want the men to make two lines. One for the men that dominated their women on earth and the other for the men that were dominated by their women. Also, I want all the women to go with St. Peter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Said and done, the next time God looked, the women are gone and there are two lines.  The line of the men that were dominated by their women was 100 miles long, and in the line of men that dominated their women, there was only one man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God got mad and said, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created you in my image and you were all whipped by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons that stood up and made me proud.  Learn from him! Tell them my son, how did you manage to be the only one in this line?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the man replied, "I don't know.  My wife told me to stand here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591328043306690?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591328043306690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591328043306690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/male-dominance.html' title='Male Dominance'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591267112548629</id><published>2005-05-12T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:44:31.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some famous "sex" quotes</title><content type='html'>Steve Martin...&lt;br /&gt;"Sex is the most wholesome, beautiful and natural experience money can buy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Les Dawson...&lt;br /&gt;"My wife is a sex object. Every time I ask for sex she objects"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woody Allen...&lt;br /&gt;"I'm such a good lover because I practice a lot on my own"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woody Allen...&lt;br /&gt;"My love life is terrible. The last time I was inside a woman was when I visited the Statue Of Liberty"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emo Philips...&lt;br /&gt;"You don't appreciate a lot of stuff at school until you get older. Little things like being spanked every day by a middle-aged woman: Stuff you pay good money for later in life"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marilyn Pittman...&lt;br /&gt;"What do people mean when they say the computer went down on them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oscar Wilde...&lt;br /&gt;"Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve Martin...&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know that look women get when they want sex? Me neither"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rodney Dangerfield...&lt;br /&gt;"Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Burns...&lt;br /&gt;"My wife said she'd like to have sex in the back seat of the car....and she wanted me to drive"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Burns...&lt;br /&gt;"It isn't premarital sex if you have no intention of getting married"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lynn Lavner...&lt;br /&gt;"Sex after 70 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harvey Korman...&lt;br /&gt;"There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in woman. Among these is a Mercedes Benz"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591267112548629?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591267112548629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591267112548629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/some-famous-sex-quotes.html' title='Some famous &quot;sex&quot; quotes'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591261764006020</id><published>2005-05-12T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:43:37.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bravery or Stupidity?</title><content type='html'>True bravery is arriving home late after a boys night out,&lt;br /&gt;being assaulted by your wife with a broom,&lt;br /&gt;and still having the guts to ask :&lt;br /&gt; "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591261764006020?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591261764006020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591261764006020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/bravery-or-stupidity.html' title='Bravery or Stupidity?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591255939502250</id><published>2005-05-12T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:42:39.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welfare</title><content type='html'>A guy walks into the local welfare office, marches straight up to the counter and says,&lt;br /&gt;"Hi . . . You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The social worker behind the counter says, "Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur/bodyguard for his nymphomaniac daughter. You'll have to drive around in his Mercedes, but he'll supply all of your clothes. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll be expected to escort her on her overseas holiday trips. You'll have a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. The starting salary is $200,000 a year".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy says, "You're bullshitting me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The social worker says, "Yeah, well, you started it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591255939502250?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591255939502250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591255939502250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/welfare.html' title='Welfare'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591249603843484</id><published>2005-05-12T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:41:36.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus and Satan</title><content type='html'>Jesus and Satan were having an ongoing argument about who was better on his computer. They had been going at it for days, and God was tired of hearing all the bickering. Finally, God said, "Cool it. I am going to set up a test which will take two hours and I will judge who does the better job."&lt;br /&gt;So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They moused. &lt;br /&gt;They did spreadsheets. &lt;br /&gt;They wrote reports. &lt;br /&gt;They sent faxes. &lt;br /&gt;They sent e-mail. &lt;br /&gt;They sent out e-mail with attachments. &lt;br /&gt;They downloaded. &lt;br /&gt;They did some genealogy reports. &lt;br /&gt;They made cards. &lt;br /&gt;They did every known job. &lt;br /&gt;But, ten minutes before the time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, thunder rolled, the rain poured and, of course, the electricity went off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed in every curse word known in the underworld. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus just sighed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The electricity finally flickered back on, and each of them restarted their computers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan started searching frantically screaming, "It's gone! It's all gone! I lost everything when the power went out!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all his files from the past two hours. Satan observed this and became even more irate.  "Wait! He cheated! How did he do it?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God shrugged and said, "Jesus Saves"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591249603843484?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591249603843484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591249603843484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/jesus-and-satan.html' title='Jesus and Satan'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591239860121906</id><published>2005-05-12T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:39:58.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want a Divorce</title><content type='html'>A Married couple is driving along a highway doing a steady forty miles per hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife is behind the wheel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband suddenly looks across at her and speaks in a clear voice, &lt;br /&gt;"I know we've been married for twenty years, but I want a divorce."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife says nothing, keeps looking at the road ahead but slowly increases her speed to 45 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband speaks again. "I don't want you to try and talk me out of it," he says, "because I've been having an affair with your best friend, and she's a far better lover than you are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the wife stays quiet, but grips the steering wheel more tightly and slowly increases the speed to 55.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pushes his luck. "I want the house," he says insistently. Up to 60.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I want the car, too," he continues. 65 mph.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"And," he says, "I'll have the bank accounts, all the credit cards and the boat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car slowly starts veering towards a massive concrete bridge.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This makes him nervous, so he asks her: "Isn't there anything you want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife at last replies-in a quiet and controlled voice. "No, I've got everything I need," she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, really," he inquires, "so what have you got?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before they slam into the wall at 65 mph, the wife turns to him and smiles. "The airbag."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591239860121906?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591239860121906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591239860121906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-want-divorce.html' title='I Want a Divorce'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591233997983031</id><published>2005-05-12T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:38:59.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Official Announcement</title><content type='html'>The government today announced that it is changing its emblem from an Eagle to a CONDOM because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A condom allows for inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives you a sense of security while you're actually being screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, it just doesn't get more accurate than that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591233997983031?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591233997983031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591233997983031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/official-announcement.html' title='Official Announcement'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591228325159447</id><published>2005-05-12T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:38:03.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Outdoors</title><content type='html'>A father and son went hunting together for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father said:  "Stay here and be very QUIET. I'll be across the field."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the father heard a blood curdling scream and ran back to his son. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong?" the father asked.  "I told you to be quiet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy, bless his heart, answered, "Look, I was quiet when the snake &lt;br /&gt;slithered across my feet.  I was quiet when the bear breathed down my neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't move a muscle when the skunk climbed over my shoulder.  I closed &lt;br /&gt;my eyes and held my breath when the wasp stung me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't cough when I swallowed the gnat.   I didn't cuss or scratch when &lt;br /&gt;the poison oak started itching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when the two squirrels crawled up my pant legs and said, 'Should &lt;br /&gt;we eat them here or take them with us?'  Well, I guess I just panicked."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591228325159447?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591228325159447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591228325159447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/great-outdoors.html' title='The Great Outdoors'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591211953708035</id><published>2005-05-12T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:35:19.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Funeral Procession</title><content type='html'>A woman was leaving a convenience store with her morning coffee when she noticed a most unusual funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery. A long black hearse was followed by a second long black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one. Behind the second hearse was a solitary woman walking a pit bull on a leash. Behind her, a short distance back, were about 200 women walking single file.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman couldn't stand her curiosity. She respectfully approached the woman walking the dog and said, "I am so sorry for your loss", I know now is a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen a funeral like this. Whose funeral is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My husband's."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What happened to him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman replied, "My dog attacked and killed him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She inquired further, "Well, who is in the second hearse?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman answered, "My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my husband when the dog turned on her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A poignant and thoughtful moment of silence passed between the two women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I borrow the dog?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get in line."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591211953708035?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591211953708035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591211953708035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/funeral-procession.html' title='A Funeral Procession'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591145592117648</id><published>2005-05-12T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:25:59.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting on a beach</title><content type='html'>A young man was sitting on a beach. Tragically, through a recent car accident,he had lost both his arms and legs. During the long afternoon, as he remained on the beach, three women separately walked past him. Each very sorry for the poor man.                                        &lt;br /&gt;                                                              &lt;br /&gt;The first woman said "Have you ever had a hug?" The man said "No", so she gave him a hug and walked on.                                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                                                    &lt;br /&gt;The second woman said "Have you ever had a kiss?" The man said "No," so she gave him a kiss and walked on.                                                &lt;br /&gt;                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;The third woman came to him and said "Have you ever been screwed?" The fellow said "No". She said "You will be when the tide comes in."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591145592117648?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591145592117648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591145592117648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/sitting-on-beach.html' title='Sitting on a beach'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591121433705141</id><published>2005-05-12T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:20:14.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Obsessions</title><content type='html'>A psychiatrist was conducting a group therapy session &lt;br /&gt;with four young mothers and their small children.&lt;br /&gt;"You all have obsessions," he observed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the first mother, Mary, he said, "You are obsessed &lt;br /&gt;with eating.  You've even named your daughter Candy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned to the second Mom, Ann: "Your obsession is with&lt;br /&gt;money.  Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned to the third Mom, Joyce: "Your obsession is alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;This too shows itself in your child's name, Brandy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the fourth mother, Kathy, quietly got up, took her little&lt;br /&gt;boy by the hand and whispered, "Come on, Dick, we're leaving."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591121433705141?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591121433705141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591121433705141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/obsessions.html' title='Obsessions'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591114939139362</id><published>2005-05-12T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:19:09.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-Fishing Wife</title><content type='html'>A couple goes on vacation to a fishing resort in northern Minnesota. The husband likes to fish at the crack of dawn. The wife likes to read. One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors, and continues to read her book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along comes a game warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning Ma'am. What are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking "Isn't that obvious?")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're in a restricted fishing area," he informs her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry officer, but I'm not fishing, I'm reading."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have a nice day ma'am", and he left...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591114939139362?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591114939139362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591114939139362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/non-fishing-wife.html' title='Non-Fishing Wife'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111591099040184472</id><published>2005-05-12T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:16:30.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiger Puzzle</title><content type='html'>A blonde called her boyfriend and said, "Please come over here and help me. I have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I can't figure out how to get it started."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend asked, "What is it supposed to be when it's finished?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde said, "According to the picture on the box, it's a tiger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend decided to go over and help with the puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrived, she showed him the puzzle spread all over the table. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He studied the pieces for a moment, then looked at the box, then turned to her and said, "First of all, no matter what we do, we're not going to be able to assemble these pieces into anything resembling a tiger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, he gently took her hand and said, "Second, I want you to relax. Let's have a nice cup of hot chocolate and then...", he sighed, "Let's put all the Frosted Flakes back in the box."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111591099040184472?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591099040184472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111591099040184472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/05/tiger-puzzle.html' title='Tiger Puzzle'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462241405360326</id><published>2005-04-27T10:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T10:20:14.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tale of the three mice (Midwestern)</title><content type='html'>After attending the funeral of a Texas mouse killed by an eighty year old lady with a broom, three mice, one from Minnesota, one from Iowa and one from Nebraska, are sitting at a bar trying to impress each other regarding how tough they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Minnesota mouse throws down a shot of bourbon, slams the empty glass onto the bar, turns to the Nebraska mouse and says, "When I see a mousetrap,  I lie on my back and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, bench press it twenty times to work up an appetite, and then make off with the cheese."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Nebraska mouse orders up two shots of tequila, drinks them down one after the other, slams both glasses onto the bar, turns to the Minnesota mouse and replies, "Oh yeah? When I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can, take it home, grind it up to a powder, and add it to my coffee each morning so I can get a good buzz going for the rest of the day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Minnesota mouse and the Nebraska mouse then turn to the Iowa mouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Iowa mouse finishes the beer he has in front of him, lets out a long sigh and says to the two, &lt;br /&gt;"I don't have time for this bullshit. I gotta go home and have sex with the cat."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462241405360326?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462241405360326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462241405360326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/tale-of-three-mice-midwestern.html' title='Tale of the three mice (Midwestern)'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462221695168577</id><published>2005-04-27T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T10:16:56.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bullets</title><content type='html'>A woman pregnant with triplets was walking down the street when a masked robber ran out of a bank and shot her three times in the stomach. Luckily the babies were OK. The surgeon decided to leave the bullets in because it was too risky to operate. She gave birth to two healthy daughters and healthy son. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All was fine for 16 years, and then one daughter walked into the room in tears.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong?" asked the mother. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came  out," replied the daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother told her it was okay and explained what happened 16 years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week later the second daughter walked into the room in tears. "Mom, I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the mother told her not to worry and explained what happened 16 years ago. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A week later her son walked into the room in tears. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's okay" said the Mom, "I know what happened... you were taking a tinkle and a bullet came out." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the boy, "I was playing with myself and I shot the dog."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462221695168577?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462221695168577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462221695168577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/bullets.html' title='Bullets'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462156406296108</id><published>2005-04-27T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T10:06:04.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should children witness childbirth?</title><content type='html'>Due to a power cut at the time Heidi was about to give birth and only one paramedic responded to the call, the house was very, very dark, so the paramedic asked Katelyn, a 3-year old girl, to hold a flashlight high over her mummy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Very diligently, Katelyn did as she was asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heidi pushed and pushed, and after a little while Connor was born.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connor began to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The paramedic then thanked Katelyn for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year old what she thought about what she had just witnessed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Katelyn quickly responded,&lt;br /&gt;"He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place. Smack him again."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462156406296108?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462156406296108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462156406296108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/should-children-witness-childbirth.html' title='Should children witness childbirth?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462142226211958</id><published>2005-04-27T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T10:03:42.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This just in...</title><content type='html'>Two boys in Boston were playing basketball when a rabid Rottweiler attacked one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking quickly, the other boy ripped board off a near by fence, wedged it into the dog's collar and twisted it, breaking the dog's neck.  A newspaper reporter from the Boston Herald witnessed the incident and rushed over to interview the boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reporter began entering data into his laptop,  beginning with the headline: &lt;br /&gt;"Brave Young Celtic's Fan Saves Friend From Jaws Of Vicious Animal."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I'm not a Celtic's fan, "the little hero interjected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, replied the reporter. "But since we're in Boston, Mass, I just assumed you were."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitting the delete key, the reporter began "John Kerry Fan rescues friend From Horrific Dog Attack."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I'm not a Kerry fan either," the boy responds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reporter says, "I assumed everybody in this state was either for the Celtic's or Kerry or Kennedy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What team or person do you like?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a Houston Rockets fan and I really like George W. Bush" the boy says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitting the delete key, the reporter begins again, &lt;br /&gt;"Arrogant Little Conservative Bastard Kills Beloved Family Pet."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462142226211958?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462142226211958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462142226211958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/this-just-in.html' title='This just in...'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462126211017456</id><published>2005-04-27T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T10:01:02.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Causes Arthritis?</title><content type='html'>A drunk man, who smelled like beer, sat down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes, the man turned to the priest and asked, "Say, Father, what causes arthritis?" &lt;br /&gt;The priest replied, "My Son, it's caused by loose living; being with cheap, wicked women; too much alcohol; contempt for your fellow man; sleeping around with prostitutes; and lack of bathing." &lt;br /&gt;The drunk muttered in response, "Well, I'll be darned," then returned to his paper. &lt;br /&gt;The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong.  How long have you had arthritis?" &lt;br /&gt;The drunk answered, "I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462126211017456?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462126211017456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462126211017456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-causes-arthritis.html' title='What Causes Arthritis?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462117354672193</id><published>2005-04-27T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:59:33.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Men Are Just Happier People</title><content type='html'>What do you expect from such simple creatures?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your last name stays put.&lt;br /&gt;The garage is all yours.&lt;br /&gt;Wedding plans take care of themselves.&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate is just another snack.&lt;br /&gt;You can be president.&lt;br /&gt;You can never be pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.&lt;br /&gt;You can wear NO T-shirt to a water park.&lt;br /&gt;Car mechanics tell you the truth.&lt;br /&gt;The world is your urinal.&lt;br /&gt;You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.&lt;br /&gt;Same work, more pay.&lt;br /&gt;Wrinkles add character.&lt;br /&gt;Wedding dress $5000.  Tux rental - $100.&lt;br /&gt;People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them.&lt;br /&gt;The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.&lt;br /&gt;New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.&lt;br /&gt;One mood - all the time.&lt;br /&gt;Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.&lt;br /&gt;You know stuff about tanks and guns.&lt;br /&gt;A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.&lt;br /&gt;You can open all your own jars by yourself.&lt;br /&gt;You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.&lt;br /&gt;If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.&lt;br /&gt;Your underwear is $8.95 for three-pack.&lt;br /&gt;Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.&lt;br /&gt;You almost never have strap problems in public.&lt;br /&gt;You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. &lt;br /&gt; Everything on your face stays its original color.&lt;br /&gt;The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.&lt;br /&gt;You only have to shave your face and neck.&lt;br /&gt;You can play with toys all your life.&lt;br /&gt;Your belly usually hides your big hips.&lt;br /&gt;One wallet and one pair of shoes one color for all seasons.&lt;br /&gt;You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.&lt;br /&gt;You can "do" your nails with a pocketknife.&lt;br /&gt;You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.&lt;br /&gt;You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462117354672193?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462117354672193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462117354672193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/why-men-are-just-happier-people.html' title='Why Men Are Just Happier People'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462041547787562</id><published>2005-04-27T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:46:55.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Exact Change??</title><content type='html'>A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him. As he sits, the waitress comes over and asks for their orders.  &lt;br /&gt;The man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries and a coke."&lt;br /&gt;The waitress turns to the ostrich.  "I'll have the same," says the ostrich.  &lt;br /&gt;A short time later the waitress returns with the order. "That will be $12.40 please," and the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries and a coke," and the ostrich says, "I'll have the same." &lt;br /&gt;Once again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.  &lt;br /&gt;This becomes a routine until late one evening, the two enter again. "The usual?" asks the waitress.&lt;br /&gt;"No, this is Friday night, so I'll have a steak, baked potato and salad," says the man.&lt;br /&gt;"Same for me," says the ostrich.&lt;br /&gt;A short time later the waitress comes with the order and says, "That will be $32.48."&lt;br /&gt;Once again the man pulls exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table.  The waitress can't hold back her curiosity any longer. "Excuse me, sir.  How do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket every time?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the man, "several years ago I was cleaning the attic and I found an old lamp. When I rubbed it a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes.  My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there."&lt;br /&gt;"That's brilliant!" says the waitress. "Most people would wish for a million dollars or something like that, but you'll always have as much money as you need for as long as you live."&lt;br /&gt;"That's right. Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there," says the man proudly.&lt;br /&gt;The waitress asks, "One other thing, sir, what's with the ostrich?"&lt;br /&gt;The man looks a bit crestfallen, sighs, pauses, and answers, "My second wish was for a tall chick with long legs who agrees with everything I say."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462041547787562?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462041547787562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462041547787562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/exact-change.html' title='Exact Change??'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462025932238072</id><published>2005-04-27T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:44:19.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crab Walking</title><content type='html'>A lonely female crab was walking down the beach one evening when she noticed a male crab coming toward her—but he was walking straight and not sideways!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impressed by his talent, she decided to marry him immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning she noticed him walking sideways like any ordinary crab!&lt;br /&gt;She asked, "What happened? Yesterday you were able to walk straight!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He answered "What?! I can't get that drunk every day!.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462025932238072?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462025932238072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462025932238072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/crab-walking.html' title='Crab Walking'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462019578725431</id><published>2005-04-27T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:43:15.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celtic Humor</title><content type='html'>Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.&lt;br /&gt;"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.&lt;br /&gt;"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.&lt;br /&gt;"That little snit, O'Conner," says Sean, "he couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."&lt;br /&gt;"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"&lt;br /&gt;"That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight,"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;===============================================&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road.&lt;br /&gt;A cop pulls him over. "So," says the cop to the driver, where have ya been?"&lt;br /&gt;"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening."&lt;br /&gt;"I did all right," the drunk says with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "For a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf,"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;=========================================&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.&lt;br /&gt;"Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya."&lt;br /&gt;"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim.&lt;br /&gt;But where's my husband?"&lt;br /&gt;"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda.&lt;br /&gt;"There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me."&lt;br /&gt;"I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."&lt;br /&gt;Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?"&lt;br /&gt;"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. "Did he at least go quickly?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, no Brenda... no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;=========================================&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.&lt;br /&gt;He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"&lt;br /&gt;She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."&lt;br /&gt;The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?"&lt;br /&gt;She says, "That he did, Father..&lt;br /&gt;" The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?&lt;br /&gt;" She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...' "&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;===========================================&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND THE BEST FOR LAST.&lt;br /&gt;A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down but says nothing.&lt;br /&gt;The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk just sits there. Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;The drunk mumbles, "ain't no use knockin', there's no paper on this side either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;===========================================&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462019578725431?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462019578725431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462019578725431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/celtic-humor.html' title='Celtic Humor'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111462008824990072</id><published>2005-04-27T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:41:28.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Duh!?</title><content type='html'>My dad asked my mom a very simple question the other day: "Which is faster, light or sound?" Mom replied, "Light." My dad thought this was very good, until my mom explained why she chose light.  "Because it's lighter," she said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I heard this story and decided to ask my wife the same question.  Her answer was that sound was faster.  I asked her why she thought that sound was faster than light.  Her response was "Because you hear something first and then you look around and see it."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the secretaries at our office made a copy of a document and put the original through the shredder.  When I questioned this, she explained that the client did not need the document, and the file only needed a copy, so there was no need to keep the original document.  She couldn't understand my amusement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While trying to exit a gas station onto a busy highway, I was evaluating the oncoming traffic and I asked my wife how it looked on her side. She replied, "Its all clear," so I started to pull out. She continued, "Not a cloud in the sky!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nephew, a freshman in college, attended a meeting in his dorm in which everyone introduced themselves and shared some personal information to get acquainted. My nephew introduced himself and mentioned that he has two moms.  An Induhvidual looked at him and said, in all seriousness, "So… does this mean that one of them is a lesbian?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have cable, so I get tasked with adjusting the antenna when reception isn't good.  The other day, my wife called me from another room and asked me to fix the reception on a program that she had recorded earlier in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In history class, we were having a discussing about current events, specifically rebuilding Afghanistan.  I mentioned that improving its economy would be hard because it has no natural resources and little industry.  One of my classmates asked, "Well, why don't they, like, build a giant water park or something there to get tourism?"  Stunned silence followed.  Surprisingly, this took place in an AP level class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months back, the people in my office were talking about Mel Gibson's new movie, The Passion of the Christ.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my coworkers, a young 20 year old secretary, mentioned that she wasn't sure if she was going to go see it because it would be too sad. That's when I jokingly told her that "It's okay; he comes back in the end. I read the Book."  At which point she says, "There's a book?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111462008824990072?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462008824990072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111462008824990072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/duh.html' title='Duh!?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111461997736394541</id><published>2005-04-27T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:39:37.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Man with no legs</title><content type='html'>A young man was sitting on a beach. Tragically, through a recent car     &lt;br /&gt;   accident,he had lost both his arms and legs. During the long afternoon,  &lt;br /&gt;   as he remained on the beach, three women separately walked past him.     &lt;br /&gt;   Each very sorry for the poor man.                                        &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   The first woman said "Have you ever had a hug?" The man said "No", so    &lt;br /&gt;   she gave                                                                 &lt;br /&gt;   him a hug and walked on.                                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                                                         &lt;br /&gt;   The second woman said "Have you ever had a kiss?" The man said "No," so  &lt;br /&gt;   she gave                                                                 &lt;br /&gt;   him a kiss and walked on.                                                &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                        &lt;br /&gt;   The third woman came to him and said "Have you ever been screwed?"       &lt;br /&gt;   The fellow                                                               &lt;br /&gt;   said "No". She said "You will be when the tide comes in."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111461997736394541?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461997736394541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461997736394541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/man-with-no-legs.html' title='Man with no legs'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111461970778958529</id><published>2005-04-27T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:35:07.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ha Ha Funny</title><content type='html'>- Where Do You Find a Dog With No Legs?&lt;br /&gt;Right Where You Left Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Why Don't Blind People Like To Sky Dive?&lt;br /&gt;Because It Scares The Dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- What Do You Call a Boomerang That Doesn't work?&lt;br /&gt;A Stick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- What Do You Call Santa's Helpers?&lt;br /&gt;Subordinate Clauses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. How Do You Catch a Unique Rabbit?&lt;br /&gt;Unique Up On It.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How Do You Catch a Tame Rabbit?&lt;br /&gt;Tame Way, Unique Up On It.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How Do Crazy People Go Through The Forest?&lt;br /&gt;They Take The Psycho Path&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How Do You Get Holy Water?&lt;br /&gt;You Boil The Hell Out Of It.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What Do Fish Say When They Hit a Concrete Wall?&lt;br /&gt;Dam!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What Do Eskimos Get From Sitting On The Ice too Long?&lt;br /&gt;Polaroid's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What Do You Call a Boomerang That Doesn't work?&lt;br /&gt;A Stick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What Do You Call Cheese That Isn't Yours?&lt;br /&gt;Nacho Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What Do You Call Santa's Helpers?&lt;br /&gt;Subordinate Clauses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What Do You Call Four Bullfighters In Quicksand?&lt;br /&gt;Quattro Sinko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What Do You Get From a Pampered Cow?&lt;br /&gt;Spoiled Milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What Do You Get When You Cross a Snowman With a Vampire?&lt;br /&gt;Frostbite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. What Lies At The Bottom Of The Ocean And Twitches?&lt;br /&gt;A Nervous Wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What's The Difference Between Roast Beef And Pea Soup?&lt;br /&gt;Anyone Can Roast Beef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Where Do You Find a Dog With No Legs?&lt;br /&gt;Right Where You Left Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Why Do Gorillas Have Big Nostrils?&lt;br /&gt;Because They Have Big Fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Why Don't Blind People Like To Sky Dive?&lt;br /&gt;Because It Scares The Dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What Kind Of Coffee Was Served On The Titanic?&lt;br /&gt;Sanka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Why Did Pilgrims' Pants Always Fall Down?&lt;br /&gt;Because They Wore Their Belt Buckle On Their Hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. What's The Difference Between a Bad Golfer And a Bad Skydiver?&lt;br /&gt;A Bad Golfer Goes, Whack, Dang!&lt;br /&gt;A Bad Skydiver Goes Dang! Whack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. How Are a Texas Tornado And a Tennessee Divorce The Same?&lt;br /&gt;Somebody's Gonna Lose A Trailer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111461970778958529?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461970778958529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461970778958529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/ha-ha-funny.html' title='Ha Ha Funny'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-111461944506667923</id><published>2005-04-27T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T09:30:45.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions lawyers should not ask</title><content type='html'>Why Lawyers should never ask a witness a question if they aren't prepared for the answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a trial, a Southern small town prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand-a-grandmotherly, elderly woman. He approached her and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She responded, "Why, yes I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs. Jones do you know the defense attorney?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She again replied, "Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women, one of them was your wife Yes, I know him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The defense attorney almost died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The judge asked both counsellors to approach the bench, and in a very quiet voice, said: "If either of you bastards asks her if she knows me, I'll throw your sorry asses in jail for contempt."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-111461944506667923?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461944506667923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/111461944506667923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/04/questions-lawyers-should-not-ask.html' title='Questions lawyers should not ask'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110804899426272148</id><published>2005-02-10T07:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T07:23:14.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You A Doctor?</title><content type='html'>A father walks into a book store with his young son. The boy is holding a quarter. Suddenly, the boy starts choking, going blue in the face. The father realizes the boy has swallowed the quarter and starts panicking, shouting for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A well dressed, attractive and serious looking woman, in a blue business suit is sitting at a coffee bar reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the counter, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the book store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the boy's testicles and starts to squeeze and twist, gently at first and then ever so firmly. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the quarter, which the woman deftly catches in her free hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Releasing the boy's testicles, the woman hands the coin to the father and walks back to her seat in the coffee bar without saying a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the father rushes over to the woman and starts thanking her saying, "I've never seen anybody do anything like that before, it was fantastic. Are you a doctor?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the woman replied. "Divorce attorney."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110804899426272148?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110804899426272148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110804899426272148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/are-you-doctor.html' title='Are You A Doctor?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110787778182772493</id><published>2005-02-08T07:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T07:49:41.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Real Cowboy</title><content type='html'>   An old cowboy sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. As he sat         &lt;br /&gt;   sipping his drink, a young woman sat down next to him. She turned to     &lt;br /&gt;   the cowboy and asked,  "Are you a real cowboy?"                          &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   He replied, "Well, I've spent my whole life, breaking colts, working     &lt;br /&gt;   cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves,bailing hay,        &lt;br /&gt;   doctoring calves,cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors,    &lt;br /&gt;   and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy."                          &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   She said, "I'm a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. As  &lt;br /&gt;   soon as I get up in the morning, I think about women. When I shower, I   &lt;br /&gt;   think about women. When I watch TV, I think about                        &lt;br /&gt;   women. I even think about women when I eat. It seems that everything     &lt;br /&gt;   makes me think of women."                                                &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   The two sat sipping in silence.                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old        &lt;br /&gt;   cowboy and asked, "Are you a real cowboy?"                               &lt;br /&gt;                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;   He replied, "I always thought I was, but I just found out I'm a          &lt;br /&gt;   lesbian."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110787778182772493?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110787778182772493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110787778182772493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/real-cowboy.html' title='Real Cowboy'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754387628261937</id><published>2005-02-04T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T11:04:36.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules For Men That Feel Manly About Being Men</title><content type='html'>1. If it itches, I'm gonna scratch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The only reason for a man to watch&lt;br /&gt;    a "woman's movie" is if will increase&lt;br /&gt;    his chances of having sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The floor is my plate, and the carpet is my napkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If there's cleavage in the area, I'm gonna look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. When I've gotta "Step on the Duck", &lt;br /&gt;    stand back cause I'm not holdin' it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If a woman catches you doing something she doesn't like...&lt;br /&gt;    a. Act dumb.&lt;br /&gt;    b. Create a distraction.&lt;br /&gt;    c. Run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Shutup while I'm eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. It's not that I can't tell when a woman is faking &lt;br /&gt;    an orgasm, it's that I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. If you're thinking of telling your wife or girlfriend something &lt;br /&gt;    that my shock, surprise, or offend them, take that &lt;br /&gt;    information and bury it then bury the shovel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Flirting is fine as long as it leads to "Red Hot Monkey Sex".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Don't ask "Does this dress make me look fat" &lt;br /&gt;     unless you're prepared to hear me say&lt;br /&gt;     "I dunno, take it off and if you still look fat&lt;br /&gt;      then it's not the dress". &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754387628261937?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754387628261937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754387628261937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/rules-for-men-that-feel-manly-about.html' title='Rules For Men That Feel Manly About Being Men'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754383401268697</id><published>2005-02-04T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T11:03:54.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying the right thing</title><content type='html'>Marty wakes up at home with a huge hangover. He forces himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins and a glass of water on the side table. He sits down and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed. Marty looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotless, clean. So is the rest of the house.  He takes the aspirins and notices a note on the table&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to go shopping. Love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he goes to the kitchen and sure enough there is a hot breakfast and the morning newspaper. His son is also at the table, eating.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Marty asks, "Son, what happened last night?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His son says, "Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and delirious. Broke some furniture, puked in the hallway, and gave yourself a black eye when you stumbled into the door."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Confused, Marty asks, "So, why is everything in order and so clean, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His son replies, "Oh that! Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you said, "Lady, leave me alone, I'm married!"&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;A self-induced hangover -  $100.00&lt;br /&gt;Broken furniture - $200.00&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast - $10.00&lt;br /&gt;Saying the right thing - priceless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754383401268697?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754383401268697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754383401268697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/saying-right-thing.html' title='Saying the right thing'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754375780739028</id><published>2005-02-04T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T11:02:37.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gun Control Is Humane</title><content type='html'>Brian Kentwell says he has been pounding livestock and wild animals to death with a hoe. No, he's no sadist. The animals have been injured in Australian irrigation channels. Previously, he would use a firearm to put down dying animals. But when the nation enacted new gun control laws several years ago, the use of firearms for "agricultural" purposes was precluded, and Kentwell had his license revoked as unwarranted. "I found out the appeal had been turned down when the police turned up on my doorstep and demanded the gun," he said. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754375780739028?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754375780739028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754375780739028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/gun-control-is-humane.html' title='Gun Control Is Humane'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754366044019431</id><published>2005-02-04T11:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T11:01:00.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ZEN AND WISDOM OF LIFE </title><content type='html'>0. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a leaky tire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sex is like air -- it's not important unless you aren't getting any. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. No one is listening until you fart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Always remember you are unique -- just like everyone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Never test the depth of the water with both feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away, and you have their shoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Some days you are the bug; some days you are the windshield. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Don't worry--It only seems kinky the first time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Good judgment comes from bad experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. A closed mouth gathers no foot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Duct tape is like the Force--It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Never miss a good chance to shut up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. We are born naked, wet, and hungry, and get slapped on our ass... then things get worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. There is a fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it too seriously &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday... around age 11. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754366044019431?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754366044019431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754366044019431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/zen-and-wisdom-of-life.html' title='ZEN AND WISDOM OF LIFE '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754354674449801</id><published>2005-02-04T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:59:06.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Perception</title><content type='html'>On a tour of Texas, the Pope took a couple of days off to visit the coastal area for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the sea wall on Galveston Isle in his Pope mobile when suddenly he notices a frantic commotion just off shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was John Kerry struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 25-foot shark. As the Pope watched, horrified, a speedboat came racing up with two men aboard. One of the men, President George W. Bush quickly fired a harpoon into the shark's side while Dick Cheney reached out and pulled the bleeding, semi-conscious John Kerry from the water. Then using baseball bats, the two heroes beat the shark to death and hauled it into the boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately the Pope shouted and summoned them to the beach. "I give you my blessings for your brave actions," he told them. "I heard that there was some bitter hatred between President Bush and John Kerry, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not true."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As the Pope drove off, President Bush asked Dick "Who was that?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"It was the Pope," Dick replied. "He is in direct contact with God and has all of God's wisdom."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well," President Bush said, "he may have access to God's wisdom, but he doesn't know squat about shark fishing.......&lt;br /&gt;.........how's the bait holding up?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754354674449801?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754354674449801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754354674449801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/perception.html' title='Perception'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754334456170141</id><published>2005-02-04T10:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:55:44.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drinking and Driving </title><content type='html'>From the state where drinking and driving is considered a sport, comes a true story from Houston, Texas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, a routine police patrol parked outside a local neighborhood bar. Late in the evening, the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes with the officer quietly observing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his own car, which he fell into. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a dry night), flicked the hazard flasher on and off, tooted the horn, and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little, and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as more patrons left in their vehicles.  At last he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive slowly down the street.  The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a Breathalyzer test to his amazement, the Breathalyzer indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dumbfounded, the officer said, "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the Police Station. This Breathalyzer equipment must be broken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I doubt it," said the man, "Tonight, I'm the designated decoy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754334456170141?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754334456170141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754334456170141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/drinking-and-driving.html' title='Drinking and Driving '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754326322890549</id><published>2005-02-04T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:54:23.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cowboy and the IRS Genie</title><content type='html'>A modern day cowboy has spent many days crossing the desert without water.  His horse has already died of thirst.  He's crawling through the sand, certain that he has breathed his last, when all of a sudden, he sees an object sticking out of the sand several yards ahead of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He crawls to the object, pulls it out of the sand, and discovers what looks to be an old brief case. He opens it and out pops a genie.  But this is no ordinary genie.  She is wearing an Internal Revenue Service ID badge and a dull gray dress.  There's a calculator in her pocketbook.  She has a pencil tucked behind one ear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, cowboy," says the genie... "You know how I work. You have three wishes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not falling for this." says the man. &lt;br /&gt;"I'm not going to trust an IRS auditor genie." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you have to lose? You've got no transportation, and it looks like you're a goner anyway!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The man thinks about this for a minute, and decides that the genie is right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "OK, I wish I were in a lush oasis with plenty of food and drink." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ***POOF*** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cowboy finds himself in the most beautiful oasis he has ever seen. And he is surrounded with jugs of wine and platters of delicacies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, cowpoke, what's your second wish?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My second wish is that I were rich beyond my wildest dreams." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;***POOF*** &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man finds himself surrounded by treasure chests filled with rare gold coins and precious gems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, cowpuncher, you have just one more wish. Better make it a good one!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After thinking for a few minutes, the man says.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish that no matter where I go, beautiful women will want and need me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***POOF*** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is turned into a tampon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of the story: If the government offers you anything, there's going to be a string attached. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754326322890549?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754326322890549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754326322890549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/cowboy-and-irs-genie.html' title='The Cowboy and the IRS Genie'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754322246945374</id><published>2005-02-04T10:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:53:42.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kenny's Donkey</title><content type='html'>A city boy, Kenny, moved to the country and bought a donkey from an old farmer for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day the farmer drove up and said: "Sorry son, but I have some bad news. The donkey died."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny replied, "Well then, just give me my money back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, "Can't do that. I went and spent it already."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny said, "OK, then just unload the donkey."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer asked, "What ya gonna do with him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: "I'm going to raffle him off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farmer: "You can't raffle off a dead donkey!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: "Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A month later the farmer met up with Kenny and asked, "What happened with that dead donkey?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: "I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at $2 a piece and made a profit of $998.00."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farmer: "Didn't anyone complain?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: "Just the guy who won. So I gave him his $2 back."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754322246945374?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754322246945374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754322246945374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/kennys-donkey.html' title='Kenny&apos;s Donkey'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754295482929187</id><published>2005-02-04T10:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:49:14.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AMERICANS WITH NO ABILITIES ACT PASSES CONGRESS</title><content type='html'>WASHINGTON, DC (AP) - Congress approved sweeping legislation, which provides new benefits for many Americans. Advocates of the millions of Americans who lack any real skills or ambition are hailing the Americans With No Abilities Act (AWNAA), signed into law by President John Kerry shortly after its passage, as a major victory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Roughly 50 percent of Americans do not possess the competence and drive necessary to carve out a meaningful role for themselves in society," said Kerry, a long-time AWNA supporter. "This is why many of them voted for me.  We can no longer stand by and allow People of Inability to be ridiculed and passed over. With this legislation, employers will no longer be able to grant special favors to a small group of workers, simply because they do a better job, or have some idea of what they are doing," said Kerry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;President Kerry pointed to the success of the US Postal Service, which has a long-standing policy of providing opportunity without regard to performance. Approximately 80 percent of postal employees lack job skills, making this agency the single largest US employer of Persons of Inability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Private sector industries with good records of nondiscrimination against the Inept include retail sales (72%), the airline industry &lt;br /&gt;(68%), and home improvement "warehouse" stores (65%).  President Kerry has also set an example, personally selecting hundreds of Non-abled people for top government positions, including many cabinet-level jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Under the Americans with No Abilities Act, more than 25 million "middle man" positions will be created, with important-sounding titles but little real responsibility, thus providing an illusory sense of purpose and performance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mandatory non-performance-based raises and promotions will be given, to guarantee upward mobility for even the most unremarkable employees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The legislation provides substantial tax breaks to corporations that maintain a significant level of Persons of Inability in top positions, and gives a tax credit to small and medium businesses that agree to hire one clueless worker for every two talented hires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the AWNAA contains tough new measures to make it more difficult to discriminate against the Non-abled, banning discriminatory interview questions such as "Do you have any goals for the future?" or "Do you have any skills or experience which relate to this job?" and "Are you awake?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "As a Non-abled person, I can't be expected to keep up with people who have something going for them," said Mary Lou Gertz, who lost her position as a lug-nut twister at the GM plant in Flint, MI due to her lack of notable job skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "This new law should really help people like me." With the passage of this bill, Gertz and millions of other untalented citizens can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Said Kerry, "It is our duty as lawmakers to provide each and every American citizen, regardless of his or her equacy, with some sort of space to take up in this great nation." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754295482929187?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754295482929187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754295482929187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/americans-with-no-abilities-act-passes.html' title='AMERICANS WITH NO ABILITIES ACT PASSES CONGRESS'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754288729691973</id><published>2005-02-04T10:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:48:07.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I read that sign right?</title><content type='html'>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOILET OUT OF ORDER...... PLEASE USE FLOOR BELOW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In a Laundromat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AUTOMATIC WASHING MACHINES: PLEASE REMOVE ALL YOUR CLOTHES WHEN THE LIGHT GOES OUT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In a London department store:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BARGAIN BASEMENT UPSTAIRS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOULD THE PERSON WHO TOOK THE STEP LADDER YESTERDAY PLEASE BRING IT BACK OR FURTHER STEPS WILL BE TAKEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AFTER TEA BREAK STAFF SHOULD EMPTY THE TEAPOT AND STAND UPSIDE DOWN ON THE DRAINING BOARD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Outside a secondhand shop:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE EXCHANGE ANYTHING - BICYCLES, WASHING MACHINES, ETC. WHY NOT BRING YOUR WIFE ALONG AND GET A WONDERFUL BARGAIN?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Notice in health food shop window:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Spotted in a safari park:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ELEPHANTS PLEASE STAY IN YOUR CAR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Seen during a conference:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOR ANYONE WHO HAS CHILDREN AND DOESN'T KNOW IT, THERE IS A DAY CARE ON THE 1ST FLOOR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Notice in a farmer's field:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FARMER ALLOWS WALKERS TO CROSS THE FIELD FOR FREE, BUT THE BULL CHARGES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;On a repair shop door:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE CAN REPAIR ANYTHING. (PLEASE KNOCK HARD ON THE DOOR - THE BELL DOESN'T WORK)&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754288729691973?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754288729691973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754288729691973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/did-i-read-that-sign-right.html' title='Did I read that sign right?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754264812518194</id><published>2005-02-04T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:44:08.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did You Know... </title><content type='html'>If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced  enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee. &lt;br /&gt;(Hardly seems worth it.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you passed gas consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb. &lt;br /&gt;(Now that's more like it!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet. &lt;br /&gt;(Wow!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;(In my next life, I want to be a pig.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death. &lt;br /&gt;(Creepy.) &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.&lt;br /&gt;(Do not try this at home. Maybe at work.)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off. &lt;br /&gt;("Honey, I'm home. What the...?!") &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field. &lt;br /&gt;(30 minutes... lucky pig... can you imagine???) &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds. &lt;br /&gt;(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some lions mate over 50 times a day. &lt;br /&gt;(I still want to be a pig in my next life... quality over quantity!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butterflies taste with their feet. &lt;br /&gt;(Something I always wanted to know.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue. &lt;br /&gt;(Hmmmmmm..) &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people. &lt;br /&gt;(If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump. &lt;br /&gt;(OK, so that would be a good thing..) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cat's urine glows under a black light. &lt;br /&gt;(I wonder who was paid to figure that out?) &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.&lt;br /&gt;(I know some people like that.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starfish have no brains. &lt;br /&gt;(I know some people like that, too.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Polar bears are left-handed. &lt;br /&gt;(If they switch, they'll live a lot longer.) &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure. &lt;br /&gt;(What about that Pig???) &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754264812518194?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754264812518194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754264812518194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/did-you-know.html' title='Did You Know... '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754251418022328</id><published>2005-02-04T10:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:41:54.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pope's Crossword</title><content type='html'>A businessman is getting on a flight when he hears from the other passenger that the Pope is going to be on the flight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WOW, great!" he thinks. "What a good place to be today." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is boarding, but he doesn't see the Pope, so he figures that maybe the other passengers were wrong. He takes his seat and is thankful that there is an empty next to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before the flight closes, the Pope enters the plane and sits next to him. I am surely blessed the man thinks. Here I am a good Catholic on a flight with the Pope sitting next to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plane takes off, and after a few minutes the passengers take off their seat belts. The man looks sideways and sees the Pope reaching into his bag to take out a crossword book. Marvelous, he thinks, not only am I blessed with the Pope next to me, but he does crosswords and so do I. Maybe he will ask for help. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He notices that the Pope is working his way through the puzzle, and that the Pope is tapping his pencil, thinking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope turns to him and says: "I usually don't talk to others on flights, but I wonder if you can help me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anything your eminence. What is it?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know a four letter word for 'woman' that ends in u-n-t?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man feels uncomfortable. He thinks and thinks. Finally he says,&lt;br /&gt;"The only word I can think of is aunt." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope turns to him and asks, "Do you have an eraser?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754251418022328?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754251418022328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754251418022328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/popes-crossword.html' title='The Pope&apos;s Crossword'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754218113217635</id><published>2005-02-04T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:36:21.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Monkey and the Lizard</title><content type='html'>A MONKEY IS SITTING IN A TREE SMOKING A JOINT, WHEN A LIZARD LOOKS UP FROM THE GROUND AND SAYS TO THE MONKEY, "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;THE MONKEY SAYS, "SMOKING A JOINT, COME UP AND HAVE SOME."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;SO THE LIZARD CLIMBS UP AND SITS NEXT TO THE MONKEY AND THEY SMOKE A FEW JOINTS. AFTER A WHILE, THE LIZARD SAYS HIS MOUTH IS DRY AND HE IS GOING TO GO GET A DRINK FROM THE RIVER. THE LIZARD IS SO STONED THAT HE LEANS TOO FAR OVER AND FALLS INTO THE RIVER.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A CROCODILE SEES THIS AND SWIMS OVER TO THE LIZARD AND HELPS HIM TO THE SIDE. HE ASKS THE LIZARD, "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;THE LIZARD EXPLAINS TO THE CROCODILE THAT HE WAS SITTING, SMOKING JOINTS WITH A MONKEY IN A TREE AND GOT TOO STONED AND THEN FELL INTO THE RIVER WHILE TAKING A DRINK. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;THE CROCODILE SAYS HE HAS TO CHECK THIS OUT AND WALKS INTO THE JUNGLE, FINDS THE TREE WHERE THE MONKEY IS SITTING, FINISHING A JOINT, AND HE LOOKS UP AND SAYS, "HEY!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;THE MONKEY LOOKS DOWN AND SAYS,&lt;br /&gt;"Dammmmmmmmm! HOW MUCH WATER DID YOU DRINK?!" &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754218113217635?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754218113217635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754218113217635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/monkey-and-lizard.html' title='The Monkey and the Lizard'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754212615016972</id><published>2005-02-04T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:35:26.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DEAR ABBY</title><content type='html'>DEAR ABBY,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband has a long record of money problems. He runs up huge credit card bills. At the end of the month, if I try to pay them off, he shouts at me, saying I am stealing his money. He says pay the minimum and let our kids worry about the rest, but already we can hardly keep up with the interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also he has been so arrogant and abusive toward our neighbors that most of them no longer speak to us. The few that do are an odd bunch, to whom he has been giving a lot of expensive gifts, running up our bills even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, he has gotten religious in a big way, although I don't quite understand it. One week he hangs out with Catholics and the next with people who say the Pope is the Anti-Christ. And now he has been going to the gym an awful lot and is into wearing uniforms and cowboy outfits, and I hate to think what that means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the last straw. He's demanding that before anyone can be in the same room with him, they must sign a loyalty oath. It's just so horribly creepy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you help?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed, Lost in DC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAR LOST:&lt;br /&gt;Stop whining, Laura. You can divorce the jerk any time you want. The rest of us are stuck with him for four more years!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754212615016972?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754212615016972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754212615016972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/dear-abby.html' title='DEAR ABBY'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754192416306222</id><published>2005-02-04T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:32:04.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Woman's Bet</title><content type='html'>An elderly woman walked into the Bank of Canada one morning with a purse full of money. She wanted to open a savings account and insisted on talking to the president of the Bank because, she said, she had a lot of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After many lengthy discussions (after all, the client is always right) an employee took the elderly woman to the president's office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president of the Bank asked her how much she wanted to deposit. She placed her purse on his desk and replied, "$165,000". The president was curious and asked her how she had been able to save so much money. The elderly woman replied that she made bets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president was surprised and asked, "What kind of bets?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman replied, "Well, I bet you $25,000 that your testicles are square."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president started to laugh and told the woman that it was impossible to win a bet like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman never batted an eye. She just looked at the president and said, "Would you like to take my bet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Certainly", replied the president. "I bet you $25,000 that my testicles are not square."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Done", the elderly woman answered. "But given the amount of money involved, if you don't mind I would like to come back at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning with my lawyer as a witness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No problem", said the president of the Bank confidently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, the president became very nervous about the bet and spent a long time in front of the mirror examining his  testicles , turning them this way and that, checking them over again and again until he was positive that no one could consider his testicles as square and reassuring himself that there was no way he could lose the bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning at exactly 10 o'clock the elderly woman arrived at the president's office with her lawyer and acknowledged the $25,000 bet made the day before that the president's testicles were square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president confirmed that the bet was the same as the one made the day before. Then the elderly woman asked him to drop his pants etc. so that she and her lawyer could see clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president was happy to oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman came closer so she could see better and asked the president if she could touch them. "Of course", said the president. "Given the amount of money involved, you should be 100% sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman did so with a little smile. Suddenly the president noticed that the lawyer was banging his head against the wall. He asked the elderly woman why he was doing that and she replied, "Oh, it's probably because I bet him $100,000 that around 10 o'clock in the morning I would be holding the balls of the President of the Bank of Canada!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754192416306222?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754192416306222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754192416306222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/old-womans-bet.html' title='The Old Woman&apos;s Bet'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754189173671613</id><published>2005-02-04T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:31:31.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Year is 1904</title><content type='html'>Some of the US statistics for 1904: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average life expectancy in the US was 47 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only 14 percent of the homes in the US had a bathtub. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost $11.00 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were only 8,000 cars in the US, and only 144 miles of paved roads. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California.  With a mere 1.4 million residents, California was only the 21st most populous state in the Union. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average wage in the US was 22 cents an hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average US worker made between $200 and $400 per year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than 95 percent of all births in the US took place at home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninety percent of all US physicians had no college education. Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sugar cost four cents a pound.  Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coffee was fifteen cents a pound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people from entering the country for any reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The five leading causes of death in the US were: &lt;br /&gt;1. Pneumonia and influenza&lt;br /&gt;2. Tuberculosis&lt;br /&gt;3. Diarrhea&lt;br /&gt;4. Heart disease&lt;br /&gt;5. Stroke &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The American flag had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska hadn't been admitted to the Union yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was 30! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn't been invented. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of 10 US adults couldn't read or write. Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at corner drugstores. According to one pharmacist, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eighteen percent of households in the US had at least one full-time servant or domestic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were only about 230 reported murders in the entire US&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754189173671613?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754189173671613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754189173671613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/year-is-1904.html' title='The Year is 1904'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754161891495954</id><published>2005-02-04T10:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:26:58.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First-year Med Students</title><content type='html'>First-year students at Med School were receiving their first anatomy class with a real dead human body.  They all gathered around the surgery table with the body covered with a white sheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor started the class by telling them, "In medicine, it is necessary to have 2 important qualities as a doctor.  The first is that you not be disgusted by anything involving the human body."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For an example, the Professor pulled back the sheet, stuck his finger in the butt of the corpse, withdrew it and stuck his finger in his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go ahead and do the same thing," he told his students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes, but eventually took turns sticking a finger in the butt of the dead body and sucking on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everyone had finished, the Professor looked at them and told them, "The second most important quality is observation.  I stuck in my middle finger and sucked on my index finger.  Now learn to pay attention."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754161891495954?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754161891495954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754161891495954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/first-year-med-students.html' title='First-year Med Students'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754158801191950</id><published>2005-02-04T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:26:28.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>25 SIGNS THAT YOU'VE FINALLY GROWN UP</title><content type='html'>1. Your house plants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. 6 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You hear your favorite song on an elevator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You watch the Weather Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of hooking up and breaking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. You go from 130 days of vacation to 14.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You're the one calling the police b/c those damn kids next door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 Your car insurance goes down and your payments go up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonalds leftovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. You no longer take naps from noon to 6 PM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather than settle your stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good stuff."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. "I just can't drink the way I used to." replaces, "I'm never going to drink that much again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. You read this entire list looking desperately for just one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find a single one to save your sorry old butt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754158801191950?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754158801191950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754158801191950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/25-signs-that-youve-finally-grown-up.html' title='25 SIGNS THAT YOU&apos;VE FINALLY GROWN UP'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754154354531856</id><published>2005-02-04T10:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:25:43.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blondes In Ohio</title><content type='html'>As a trucker stops at a stop sign, a blonde pulls up and motions the trucker to roll down his window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She yells from  her car, "Hi, my name is Heather and you are losing some of your load."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trucker ignores her and proceeds down the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the truck stops at the next intersection the girl catches up again and this time jumps from car, runs up and knocks on the door. 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!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shaking his head, the trucker ignores her again and continues down the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the next stop sign, the same thing happens: All out of breath, the blonde gets out of her car, runs up, knocks on the truck door. The trucker&lt;br /&gt;lowers the window. Again she says "Hi, my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the girl backs away, the trucker revs up and races to the next crossroad. 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...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, my name is Kevin, it's winter in Ohio, and I'm driving the damn SALT TRUCK!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754154354531856?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754154354531856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754154354531856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/blondes-in-ohio.html' title='Blondes In Ohio'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-110754147738321715</id><published>2005-02-04T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T10:24:37.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity</title><content type='html'>1.  At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses&lt;br /&gt;     on and point a hair dryer at passing cars.&lt;br /&gt;     See if they slow down.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. Every time someone asks you to do something,&lt;br /&gt;    ask if they want fries with that.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "in"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. Put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;    Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions,&lt;br /&gt;    switch to espresso.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sexual favors".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;7. Finish all your sentences with "in accordance with the prophecy."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8. Dont use any punctuation marks&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10. Ask people what sex they are.&lt;br /&gt;      Laugh hysterically after they answer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11. Specify that your drive-through order is "to go".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;12. Sing along at the opera.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;13. Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;14. Put mosquito netting around your work area. Play a tape of jungle sounds all day.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;15. Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party&lt;br /&gt;      because you're not in the mood.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;16. Have your coworkers address you by your wrestling name, Rock Hard Kim.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;17. When the money comes out the ATM,&lt;br /&gt;      scream "I won!", "I won!" "3rd time this week!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;18. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, &lt;br /&gt;      yelling "run for your lives, they're loose!!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;19. Tell your children over dinner. "due to the economy, &lt;br /&gt;      we are going to have to let one of you go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Send this list to everyone in your address book, &lt;br /&gt;      even if they sent it to you or asked you not to send them stuff like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-110754147738321715?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754147738321715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/110754147738321715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2005/02/how-to-keep-healthy-level-of-insanity.html' title='How To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-109769308821602641</id><published>2004-10-13T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-13T11:44:48.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I read that sign right?</title><content type='html'>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;TOILET OUT OF ORDER...... PLEASE USE FLOOR BELOW&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In a Laundromat:&lt;br /&gt;AUTOMATIC WASHING MACHINES: PLEASE REMOVE ALL YOUR CLOTHES WHEN THE LIGHT GOES OUT&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In a London department store:&lt;br /&gt;BARGAIN BASEMENT UPSTAIRS&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;WOULD THE PERSON WHO TOOK THE STEP LADDER YESTERDAY PLEASE BRING IT BACK OR FURTHER STEPS WILL BE TAKEN&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;In an office:&lt;br /&gt;AFTER TEA BREAK STAFF SHOULD EMPTY THE TEAPOT AND STAND UPSIDE DOWN ON THE DRAINING BOARD&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Outside a secondhand shop:&lt;br /&gt;WE EXCHANGE ANYTHING - BICYCLES, WASHING MACHINES, ETC. WHY NOT BRING YOUR WIFE ALONG AND GET A WONDERFUL BARGAIN?&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Notice in health food shop window:&lt;br /&gt;CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Spotted in a safari park:&lt;br /&gt;ELEPHANTS PLEASE STAY IN YOUR CAR&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Seen during a conference:&lt;br /&gt;FOR ANYONE WHO HAS CHILDREN AND DOESN'T KNOW IT, THERE IS A DAY CARE ON THE 1ST FLOOR&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;Notice in a farmer's field:&lt;br /&gt;THE FARMER ALLOWS WALKERS TO CROSS THE FIELD FOR FREE, BUT THE BULL CHARGES.&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;On a repair shop door:&lt;br /&gt;WE CAN REPAIR ANYTHING. (PLEASE KNOCK HARD ON THE DOOR - THE BELL DOESN'T WORK)&lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-109769308821602641?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109769308821602641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109769308821602641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/10/did-i-read-that-sign-right.html' title='Did I read that sign right?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-109036107550226416</id><published>2004-07-20T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-20T15:04:35.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Neighbor's Kid </title><content type='html'>An old man in Mississippi was sitting on his front porch watching&lt;br /&gt;the sun rise. He sees the neighbor's kid walk by carrying&lt;br /&gt;something big under his arm. He yells out "Hey boy, whatcha got&lt;br /&gt;there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy yells back "Roll of chicken wire."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man says "What you gonna do with that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy says "Gonna catch some chickens."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man yells "You damn fool, you can't catch chickens with&lt;br /&gt;chicken wire!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy just laughs and keeps walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening at sunset the boy comes walking by and to the old&lt;br /&gt;man's surprise he is dragging behind him the chicken wire with&lt;br /&gt;about 30 chickens caught in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same time next morning the old man is out watching the sun rise&lt;br /&gt;and he sees the boy walk by carrying something kind of round in&lt;br /&gt;his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man yells out "Hey boy, whatcha got there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy yells back "Roll of duck tape."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man says "What you gonna do with that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy says back "Gonna catch me some ducks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man yells back, "You damn fool, you can't catch ducks with&lt;br /&gt;duck tape!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy just laughs and keeps walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night around sunset the boy walks by coming home and to the&lt;br /&gt;old man's amazement he is trailing behind him the unrolled roll&lt;br /&gt;of duck tape with about 35 ducks caught in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same time next morning the old man sees the boy walking by&lt;br /&gt;carrying what looks like a long reed with something fuzzy on the&lt;br /&gt;end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man says "Hey boy, whatcha got there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy says "It's a pussy willow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old man says "Wait up.... I'll get my hat."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-109036107550226416?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036107550226416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036107550226416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/neighbors-kid.html' title='The Neighbor&apos;s Kid '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-109036093532684657</id><published>2004-07-20T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-20T15:02:15.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Texas State Trooper</title><content type='html'>Two guys are driving through Texas when they get pulled over by a&lt;br /&gt;state trooper. The trooper walks up, taps on the window with his&lt;br /&gt;nightstick, the driver rolls down the window, and the trooper&lt;br /&gt;smacks him in the head with the stick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver says, "Why'd you do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trooper says, "You're in Texas, son. When I pull you over,&lt;br /&gt;you'll have your license ready."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driver says, "I'm sorry, officer, I'm not from around here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trooper runs a check on the guy's license, and he's clean. He&lt;br /&gt;gives the guy his license back and walks around to the passenger&lt;br /&gt;side and taps on the window. The passenger rolls his window down,&lt;br /&gt;and the trooper smacks him with the nightstick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passenger says, "What'd you do that for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cop says,"Just making your wishes come true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passenger says, "Huh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cop says, "I know that two miles down the road you're gonna&lt;br /&gt;say, 'I wish that mother fucker would've tried that shit with&lt;br /&gt;me!'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-109036093532684657?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036093532684657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036093532684657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/texas-state-trooper.html' title='Texas State Trooper'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-109036071032363807</id><published>2004-07-20T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-20T14:58:30.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hillbilly Duck Hunter</title><content type='html'>A hillbilly went hunting one day in Oklahoma and bagged three ducks.  He put them in the bed of his pickup truck and was about to drive home when he was confronted by an ornery game warden who didn't like hillbillies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game warden ordered to the hillbilly to show his hunting license and the hillbilly pulled out a valid Oklahoma hunting license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game warden looked at the license, then reached over and picked up one of the ducks, sniffed its butt, and said, "This duck ain't from Oklahoma.  This is a Kansas duck.  You got a Kansas huntin' license, boy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hillbilly reached into his wallet and produced a Kansas hunting license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game warden looked at it, then reached over and grabbed the second duck, sniffed its butt, and said, "This ain't no Kansas duck.  This duck's from Arkansas.  You got a Arkansas license?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hillbilly reached into his wallet and produced an Arkansas hunting license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The warden then reached over and picked up the third duck, sniffed it's butt, and said, "This ain't no Arkansas duck.  This here duck's from South Carolina.  You got a South Carolina huntin' license?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the hillbilly reached into his wallet and brought out a South Carolina hunting license.  The game warden was extremely frustrated at this point, and he yelled at the hillbilly "Just where the hell are you from?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hillbilly turned around, bent over, dropped his pants, and said, "You tell me. You're the expert."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-109036071032363807?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036071032363807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036071032363807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/hillbilly-duck-hunter.html' title='Hillbilly Duck Hunter'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-109036066219551616</id><published>2004-07-20T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-20T14:57:42.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?</title><content type='html'>Two Arabs boarded a flight out of London. One took&lt;br /&gt;a window seat and the other sat next to him in the&lt;br /&gt;middle seat.  Just before take-off an American sat&lt;br /&gt;down in the aisle seat.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After take-off, the American kicked his shoes off,&lt;br /&gt;wiggled his toes and was settling in when the Arab&lt;br /&gt;in the window seat said, "I need to get up and get&lt;br /&gt;a Coke."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Don't get up," said the American, "I'm in the aisle&lt;br /&gt;seat.  I'll get it for you."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As soon as he left, one of the Arabs picked up one of&lt;br /&gt;the American's shoes and spat in it.  When the American&lt;br /&gt;returned with the Coke, the other Arab said, "That looks&lt;br /&gt;good.  I'd really like one, too." Again, the American&lt;br /&gt;obligingly went to fetch it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;While he was gone the other Arab picked up the other&lt;br /&gt;shoe and spat in it. When the American returned,&lt;br /&gt;they all sat back and enjoyed the flight. As the plane&lt;br /&gt;was landing, the American slipped his feet into his&lt;br /&gt;shoes and knew immediately what had happened.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Looking the two Arabs squarely in the eye, the American&lt;br /&gt;said, "Why does it have to be this way?  How long&lt;br /&gt;must this go on?  This fighting between our nations?  &lt;br /&gt;This hatred?  This animosity?  &lt;br /&gt;This spitting in shoes and pissing in Cokes?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-109036066219551616?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036066219551616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/109036066219551616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/why-cant-we-all-just-get-along.html' title='WHY CAN&apos;T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108991591893442613</id><published>2004-07-15T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-15T11:25:18.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rancher Wife &amp; the Hired Hand</title><content type='html'>A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted&lt;br /&gt;wife. She was a very good-looking woman, and determined&lt;br /&gt;to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so &lt;br /&gt;she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two men applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk.&lt;br /&gt;She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else &lt;br /&gt;applied she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be &lt;br /&gt;safer to have him around the house than the drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every &lt;br /&gt;day and knew a lot about ranching.  For weeks, the two of them &lt;br /&gt;worked, and the ranch was doing very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day , the rancher's widow said to the hired hand, &lt;br /&gt;"You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great.&lt;br /&gt;You should go into town an kick up your heels." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one &lt;br /&gt;Saturday night.  One o'clock came, however, and he didn't return. &lt;br /&gt;Two o'clock, and no hired hand.  He returned around two-thirty, &lt;br /&gt;and upon entering the room, he found the rancher's widow&lt;br /&gt;sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She quietly called him over to her.&lt;br /&gt;"Unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said.&lt;br /&gt;Trembling, he did as she directed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my boots."&lt;br /&gt;He did as she asked, ever so slowly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my socks."&lt;br /&gt;He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my skirt." &lt;br /&gt;He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my bra." &lt;br /&gt;Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now," she said, "take off my panties."&lt;br /&gt;By the light of the fire, he slowly pulled them down and off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she looked at him and said, &lt;br /&gt;"If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you're fired." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108991591893442613?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991591893442613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991591893442613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/rancher-wife-hired-hand.html' title='Rancher Wife &amp; the Hired Hand'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108991584053648242</id><published>2004-07-15T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-15T11:24:00.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Security</title><content type='html'>After retiring, I went to the social security office to apply for Social Security.&lt;br /&gt;The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver's license to verify my age.&lt;br /&gt;I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home.  &lt;br /&gt;I told the woman that I was very sorry but I seemed to have left my wallet at home.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I will have to go home and come back later."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The woman says, "Unbutton your shirt."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver chest hair.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She says, "That silver hair is proof enough for me," and she processed my Social Security application.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She said, "You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108991584053648242?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991584053648242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991584053648242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/social-security.html' title='Social Security'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108991578537952472</id><published>2004-07-15T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-15T11:23:05.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bathroom Miracles!</title><content type='html'>An 80-year-old man went for his annual check up &lt;br /&gt;and the doctor said,&lt;br /&gt;"Friend, for your age you're in the best shape I've seen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man replied, "Yep. It comes from clean living. &lt;br /&gt;I know I live a good, clean, spiritual life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor asked, "What makes you say that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man replied, "If I didn't live a good, clean life the &lt;br /&gt;Lord wouldn't turn the bathroom light on for me every &lt;br /&gt;time I get up in the middle of the night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doc was concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean when you get up in the night to go to the &lt;br /&gt;bathroom, the Lord Himself turns on the light for you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yep," the old man said, "whenever I get up to go to &lt;br /&gt;the bathroom, the Lord turns the light on for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the doctor didn't say anything else, but when the &lt;br /&gt;old man's wife came in for her check up, he felt he had &lt;br /&gt;to let her know what her husband said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just want you to know," the doctor said. "Your husband's&lt;br /&gt;in fine physical shape but I'm worried about his mental &lt;br /&gt;condition. He told me that every night when he gets up to &lt;br /&gt;go to the bathroom, the Lord turns the light on for him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He what?" she cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He said every night when he gets up to go to the &lt;br /&gt;bathroom, the Lord turns the light on for him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A-ha!" she exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;"So he's the one who's been peeing in the refrigerator!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108991578537952472?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991578537952472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991578537952472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/bathroom-miracles.html' title='Bathroom Miracles!'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108991074354414783</id><published>2004-07-15T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-15T09:59:03.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Door to Door Scam</title><content type='html'>Importance: High&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate people that forward too many warnings as much as anyone, but this one is important!&lt;br /&gt;Send this warning to everyone on your e-mail list!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone comes to your front door saying they are conducting a survey on deer ticks and &lt;br /&gt;ask you to take your clothes off and dance around, do not do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT IS A SCAM; they only want to see you naked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I wish I'd gotten this yesterday; I feel so stupid now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108991074354414783?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991074354414783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108991074354414783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/07/door-to-door-scam.html' title='Door to Door Scam'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108794629839459473</id><published>2004-06-22T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-22T16:18:18.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things real men never say...</title><content type='html'>1. I think Barry Manilow is one cool motherfucker.&lt;br /&gt;2. No I don't want another beer. I have to work tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;3. Her tits are just too big.&lt;br /&gt;4. Sometimes I just want to be held.&lt;br /&gt;5. That old broad on "Murder, She Wrote" gives me a woody&lt;br /&gt;6. Sure, I'd love to wear a condom&lt;br /&gt;7. We haven't been to the mall for ages, let's go shopping and I can&lt;br /&gt;hold your purse.&lt;br /&gt;8. Fuck Monday Night Football, let's watch Melrose Place.&lt;br /&gt;9. It's late. Put your clothes back on and I'll take you home.&lt;br /&gt;10. Honey, I'm going to the store, do you need more tampons?&lt;br /&gt;11. I know you just blew me, but I need a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;12. I'm sick of beer, give me a fruit juice with a lemon twist.&lt;br /&gt;13. That's wonderful, when will your mother be here and how long can&lt;br /&gt;	she stay?&lt;br /&gt;14. I wonder if my gorgeous neighbor knows that her drapes are open&lt;br /&gt;	when she's getting ready for bed. Maybe I should tell her.&lt;br /&gt;15. No way, you weeded the garden last week. It's my turn&lt;br /&gt;16. Better get rid of these old Playboy magazines. I don't look at them&lt;br /&gt;	any more&lt;br /&gt;17. I understand.&lt;br /&gt;18. This movie has too much nudity.&lt;br /&gt;19. Damn, we're late for church&lt;br /&gt;20. No, I don't want to see your sister's tits.&lt;br /&gt;21. Damn these onions, pass me a tissue.&lt;br /&gt;22. Put some panties on for Christ's sake&lt;br /&gt;23. I'm pulling over to get directions&lt;br /&gt;24. Here, you take the remote control&lt;br /&gt;25. That bikini is too revealing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108794629839459473?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108794629839459473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108794629839459473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/things-real-men-never-say.html' title='Things real men never say...'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696766158528095</id><published>2004-06-11T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:27:41.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alligator Trick</title><content type='html'>A guy walks into a bar with an alligator under his arm. He puts the&lt;br /&gt;alligator up on the bar. He turns to the astonished patrons. "I'll make&lt;br /&gt;you a deal. I'll open this alligator's mouth and place my genitals inside. Then&lt;br /&gt;the gator will close his mouth for one minute. He'll then open his mouth and&lt;br /&gt;I'll remove my unit unscathed. In return for witnessing this spectacle, each of&lt;br /&gt;you will buy me a drink."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd murmured their approval. The man stood up on the bar, dropped his trousers, &lt;br /&gt;and placed his privates in the alligator's open mouth. The gator closed his mouth as &lt;br /&gt;the crowd gasped. After a minute, the man grabbed a beer bottle and rapped the alligator &lt;br /&gt;hard on the top of its head. The gator opened his mouth and the man removed his genitals, &lt;br /&gt;unscathed as promised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd cheered and the first of his free drinks was delivered.  The man stood up again &lt;br /&gt;and made another offer.  "I'll pay anyone $100 who's willing to give it a try." A hush fell&lt;br /&gt;over the crowd. After a while, a hand went up in the back of the bar. A buxom young&lt;br /&gt;blonde woman timidly spoke up. "I'll try, but you have to promise not to hit me on the head &lt;br /&gt;with the beer bottle."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696766158528095?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696766158528095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696766158528095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/alligator-trick.html' title='Alligator Trick'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696740666247060</id><published>2004-06-11T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:23:26.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Magic Frog</title><content type='html'>A man takes the day off work and decides to go out golfing. He is on&lt;br /&gt;the second hole when he notices a frog sitting next to the green.  He&lt;br /&gt;thinks nothing of it and is about to shoot when he hears, "Ribbit, 9&lt;br /&gt;Iron."  The man looks around and doesn't see anyone.  "Ribbit, 9 Iron."&lt;br /&gt;He looks at the frog and decides to prove the frog wrong, puts his other&lt;br /&gt;club away, and grabs a 9 iron. Boom! he hits it 10 inches from the cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is shocked. He says to the frog, "Wow that's amazing. You must be a&lt;br /&gt;lucky frog, eh?" The frog reply's "Ribbit, Lucky frog." The man decides&lt;br /&gt;to take the frog  with him to the next hole. "What do you think frog?"&lt;br /&gt;the man asks.  "Ribbit, 3 wood."  The guy takes out a 3 wood and Boom!&lt;br /&gt;Hole in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man is befuddled and doesn't know what to say. By the end of the&lt;br /&gt;day, the man golfed the best game of golf in his life and asks the&lt;br /&gt;frog, "OK  where to next?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frog replied, "Ribbit, Las Vegas."  They go to "Las Vegas and the&lt;br /&gt;guy says, "OK frog, now what?"&lt;br /&gt;The frog says, "Ribbit, Roulette." Upon approaching the roulette table,&lt;br /&gt;the man asks, "What do you think I should bet?"&lt;br /&gt;The frog replies, "Ribbit, $3000, black 6."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is a million-to-one shot to win, but after the golf game, the&lt;br /&gt; man figures what the heck. Boom! Tons of cash comes sliding back across&lt;br /&gt;the table.  The man takes his winnings and buys the best room in the&lt;br /&gt;hotel. He sits the frog down and says, "Frog, I don't know how to repay&lt;br /&gt;you. You've won me all this money and I am forever grateful." The frog&lt;br /&gt;replies, "Ribbit, Kiss Me." He figures why not, since after all the frog&lt;br /&gt;did for him he deserves it. With a kiss, the frog turns into a gorgeous&lt;br /&gt;15-year-old girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, your honor, is how the girl ended up in my room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696740666247060?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696740666247060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696740666247060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/magic-frog.html' title='The Magic Frog'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696734895546384</id><published>2004-06-11T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:22:28.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Irish Bar Fight</title><content type='html'>Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over&lt;br /&gt;by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and&lt;br /&gt;bruised and he's walking with a limp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That bastard, O'Conner," says Sean. "He couldn't do al that to you, he&lt;br /&gt;must&lt;br /&gt;have had something in his hand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin'&lt;br /&gt;he gave me with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have&lt;br /&gt;something in your hand?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it&lt;br /&gt;was, but useless in a fight."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696734895546384?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696734895546384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696734895546384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/irish-bar-fight.html' title='Irish Bar Fight'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696728991601216</id><published>2004-06-11T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:21:29.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Irish Husband</title><content type='html'>Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives&lt;br /&gt;at her door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my&lt;br /&gt;husband?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an accident down&lt;br /&gt;at the Guinness brewery..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh God, no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and&lt;br /&gt;drowned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go&lt;br /&gt;quickly?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, no Brenda... no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696728991601216?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696728991601216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696728991601216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/irish-husband.html' title='Irish Husband'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696725614004399</id><published>2004-06-11T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:20:56.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Irish Wife</title><content type='html'>Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and&lt;br /&gt;she's in tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary, my dear?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last&lt;br /&gt;night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any&lt;br /&gt;last requests?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "That he did, Father.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696725614004399?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696725614004399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696725614004399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/irish-wife.html' title='Irish Wife'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696719262623227</id><published>2004-06-11T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:19:52.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Irish Confessional </title><content type='html'>A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits&lt;br /&gt;down but says nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk just sits&lt;br /&gt;there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk mumbles, "Ain't no use knockin', there's no paper on this side&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696719262623227?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696719262623227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696719262623227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/irish-confessional.html' title='Irish Confessional '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108696708893013143</id><published>2004-06-11T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:18:08.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hail Storm Damage</title><content type='html'>A blonde left her car out in a hail storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the storm was over she checked the car and found out it was&lt;br /&gt;covered with small dents. She went to the local garage and&lt;br /&gt;inquired how to fix the problem. The mechanic told her to blow on&lt;br /&gt;the tailpipe and the dents would be removed. She took the car&lt;br /&gt;home parked it and proceeded to blow on the pipe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another blonde came by and inquired what she was doing, she told&lt;br /&gt;her she was blowing on the tailpipe to remove the dents. The&lt;br /&gt;other blonde responded, "that's not going to work unless you roll&lt;br /&gt;up the windows."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108696708893013143?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696708893013143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108696708893013143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/hail-storm-damage.html' title='Hail Storm Damage'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-10869670485900110</id><published>2004-06-11T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T08:17:28.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie &amp; GIJoe</title><content type='html'>A little girl is in line to see Santa. When it's her turn, she&lt;br /&gt;climbs up on Santa's lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa asks, "What would you like Santa to bring you for&lt;br /&gt;Christmas?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl replies, "I want a Barbie and a GIJoe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa looks at the little girl for a moment and says, "I thought&lt;br /&gt;Barbie comes with Ken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No", said the little girl, "She comes with GI Joe, she fakes it&lt;br /&gt;with Ken."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-10869670485900110?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/10869670485900110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/10869670485900110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/barbie-gijoe.html' title='Barbie &amp; GIJoe'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108689725535210615</id><published>2004-06-10T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T12:54:15.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Short &amp; sweet #1</title><content type='html'>========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A psychologist's secretary comes into the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secretary: "There is a man in the lobby who thinks he is invisible."&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: "Tell him I can't see him today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fishing Wisdom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give a man a fish and you will feed him for a day&lt;br /&gt;Teach a man to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scientists have recently discovered a food that greatly reduces sex&lt;br /&gt;drive, its called wedding cake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After many years of collecting data, Cambridge sex researchers have&lt;br /&gt;determined that the human penis may be classified according to one of&lt;br /&gt;five basic size groups: small, medium, large, "Oh my God!" and "Does&lt;br /&gt;that come in white?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the difference between a bad golfer and a bad skydiver?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad Golfer: "Whack!" "Shit!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad Skydiver: "Shit!!" "Whack!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life sucks. I lent a guy ten grand to get plastic surgery, and now I&lt;br /&gt;don't know what he looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A truck carrying copies of Roget's Thesaurus over-turned on the&lt;br /&gt;highway. The local newspaper reported that the onlookers were "stunned,&lt;br /&gt;overwhelmed, astonished, bewildered, and dumbfounded."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Why was the blond sniffing Sweet &amp; Low?&lt;br /&gt;A. She thought it was Diet Coke!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gender Inequality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it when a man talks nasty to a woman it's Sexual harassment and&lt;br /&gt;when a woman talks nasty to a man it's $3.99 a minute?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108689725535210615?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689725535210615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689725535210615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/short-sweet-1.html' title='Short &amp; sweet #1'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108689701451220483</id><published>2004-06-10T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T12:50:14.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Load of excitement</title><content type='html'>Two guys are in a strip joint, one is sitting in front of the&lt;br /&gt;other. A woman comes on stage and starts stripping. The guy in&lt;br /&gt;back says,"Oh yeah, Oh yeah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the first guys turns around and says, "hey man, shut up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then two women come out and start stripping. The guy in back,&lt;br /&gt;once again, starts,"Yeah baby..mmmm....yeah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again the guy in front turns around and tells the man to be&lt;br /&gt;quiet.  So three women come out and start stripping. The guy in&lt;br /&gt;back is silent.  The guy in front says,"Hey man, where's all your&lt;br /&gt;excitement now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy behind him says,"All over your back!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108689701451220483?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689701451220483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689701451220483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/load-of-excitement.html' title='Load of excitement'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108689687370509540</id><published>2004-06-10T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T12:47:53.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Embarrassing Situations</title><content type='html'>A very shy guy goes into a bar and sees a beautiful woman sitting at&lt;br /&gt;the bar. After an hour of gathering up his courage he finally goes over&lt;br /&gt;to her and asks, tentatively, "Um, would you mind if I chatted with you&lt;br /&gt;for a while?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which she responds by yelling, at the top of her lungs, "No, I won't&lt;br /&gt;sleep with you tonight!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in the bar is now staring at them.  Naturally, the guy is&lt;br /&gt;hopelessly and completely embarrassed and he slinks back to his table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, the woman walks over to him and apologizes.  She&lt;br /&gt;smiles at him and says, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.  You see, I'm a&lt;br /&gt;graduate student in psychology and I'm studying how people respond to&lt;br /&gt;embarrassing situations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which he responds, at the top of his lungs, "What do you mean $200&lt;br /&gt;for a blowjob?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108689687370509540?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689687370509540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108689687370509540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/embarrassing-situations.html' title='Embarrassing Situations'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108671432462428941</id><published>2004-06-08T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T10:05:24.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Responses on CSA forms</title><content type='html'>The following are all replies that have been included on Child Support&lt;br /&gt;Agency forms in the section for listing father's details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins child A was fathered&lt;br /&gt;by [name removed]. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of child B,&lt;br /&gt;but I believe that he was conceived on the same night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being&lt;br /&gt;sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide&lt;br /&gt;you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this&lt;br /&gt;helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was&lt;br /&gt;conceived&lt;br /&gt;at a party [address and date given] where I had unprotected sex with a man&lt;br /&gt;I met that night.  I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted.&lt;br /&gt;If you do manage to track down the father can you send me his phone number&lt;br /&gt;? Thanks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I don't know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW&lt;br /&gt;that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps&lt;br /&gt;you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he's had it&lt;br /&gt;replaced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I have never had sex with a man. I am awaiting a letter from Pope&lt;br /&gt;confirming that my son's conception was immaculate and that he is Christ&lt;br /&gt;risen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I cannot tell you the name of child A's dad as he informs me that to do&lt;br /&gt;so&lt;br /&gt;would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the&lt;br /&gt;British economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by my&lt;br /&gt;country please advise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I do not know who the father of my child was as all squadies look the&lt;br /&gt;same to me. I can confirm that he was a Royal Green Jacket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. [name given] is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him can&lt;br /&gt;you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Euro Disney&lt;br /&gt;maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for&lt;br /&gt;sure is Delia Smith did a programme about eggs earlier in the evening. If&lt;br /&gt;I'd have stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at&lt;br /&gt;[address given] mine might have remained unfertilised.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108671432462428941?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671432462428941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671432462428941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/responses-on-csa-forms.html' title='Responses on CSA forms'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108671404599726955</id><published>2004-06-08T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T10:00:45.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thought for the Day---by Jack Handy</title><content type='html'>Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery&lt;br /&gt;and all of their hopes and dreams.  If I didn't drink this beer, they&lt;br /&gt;might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered.  Then I say to&lt;br /&gt;myself, "It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true&lt;br /&gt;than be selfish and worry about my liver."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108671404599726955?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671404599726955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671404599726955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/deep-thought-for-day-by-jack-handy.html' title='Deep Thought for the Day---by Jack Handy'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-10867136384340499</id><published>2004-06-08T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T09:53:58.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What goes through a cat's mind</title><content type='html'>Monday - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling&lt;br /&gt;objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry&lt;br /&gt;cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the&lt;br /&gt;satisfaction from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may&lt;br /&gt;eat another houseplant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet&lt;br /&gt;while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the&lt;br /&gt;stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once&lt;br /&gt;again induced myself to throw up on their favorite chair... must try this on&lt;br /&gt;their bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday - Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep&lt;br /&gt;depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in&lt;br /&gt;attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike&lt;br /&gt;fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good&lt;br /&gt;little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I&lt;br /&gt;was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning&lt;br /&gt;foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid?&lt;br /&gt;My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was&lt;br /&gt;placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and&lt;br /&gt;smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly I&lt;br /&gt;overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn&lt;br /&gt;what this is and how to use it to my advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches.&lt;br /&gt;The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is&lt;br /&gt;obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant.&lt;br /&gt;He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to molespeak) and&lt;br /&gt;speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to&lt;br /&gt;his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can&lt;br /&gt;wait; it is only a matter of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-10867136384340499?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/10867136384340499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/10867136384340499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-goes-through-cats-mind.html' title='What goes through a cat&apos;s mind'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108671315410464403</id><published>2004-06-08T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T09:46:24.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking outside the box</title><content type='html'>Three convicts were on their way to prison; a mobster, a drunk,&lt;br /&gt;and a Texas Aggie.  Each was allowed to take one item to help&lt;br /&gt;pass the time while incarcerated. On the bus, the drunk guy&lt;br /&gt;turned to the mobster and said, "So, what did you bring?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mobster pulled out a box of paints and explained that he&lt;br /&gt;intended to paint anything he could. He wanted to become the da&lt;br /&gt;Vinci of the prison system.  Then he asked the drunk, "What did&lt;br /&gt;you bring?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then pulled out a deck of cards, grinned and said, "I brought&lt;br /&gt;cards.  I can play poker, solitaire, gin, and any number of&lt;br /&gt;games."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Aggie was sitting  quietly aside, grinning to himself. The&lt;br /&gt;other two took notice and asked, "Why are you so smug?  What did&lt;br /&gt;you bring?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulling out a box of tampons, he said with a smile, "I brought&lt;br /&gt;these."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puzzled, the other two convicts asked, "What can you do with&lt;br /&gt;THOSE?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pointing to the box, he replied with a grin, "Well, according to&lt;br /&gt;the box, I can go horseback-riding, swimming, roller-skating..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108671315410464403?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671315410464403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671315410464403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/thinking-outside-box.html' title='Thinking outside the box'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108671292384658607</id><published>2004-06-08T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T09:42:03.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Most Women Will Never Say</title><content type='html'> You know, I've been complaining a lot lately. I don't blame you for&lt;br /&gt; ignoring me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; That was fun, when will all of your friends be over to watch pornos again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The new girl in my office is a stripper, I invited her over for dinner on&lt;br /&gt; Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Bar food again?? Kick ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I liked that wedding even more than ours. Your ex-girlfriend has class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; That girl is wearing the same outfit as I am. Cool, I'm gonna go over and&lt;br /&gt; talk to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I love hearing stories about your old girlfriends, tell me more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I like using this new lawn mower so much more than the old one, what a&lt;br /&gt; wonderful Valentines day !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Let's just leave the toilet seat "up" at all times, then you don't have to&lt;br /&gt; mess with it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It's only the third quarter, you should order a couple more pitchers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Honey, come here! Watch me do a Tequila Shot off of Stephanie's bare ass!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm so happy with my new hairstyle, I don't think I'll ever change it&lt;br /&gt; again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You passed out before brushing your teeth again, ya big silly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108671292384658607?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671292384658607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108671292384658607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/things-most-women-will-never-say.html' title='Things Most Women Will Never Say'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108621346711070959</id><published>2004-06-02T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T14:57:47.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A herd of buffalo</title><content type='html'>A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo, and when the&lt;br /&gt;herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are&lt;br /&gt;killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole,&lt;br /&gt;because the general speed and health of the whole keeps improving by the&lt;br /&gt;regular culling of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human&lt;br /&gt;brain can operate only as fast as    the slowest brain cells. Excessive&lt;br /&gt;intake of alcohol, we all know,  kills off brain cells, but naturally it&lt;br /&gt;attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular&lt;br /&gt;consumption of beer  eliminates the weaker cells, constantly making the&lt;br /&gt;brain a faster and more efficient machine. The results of this in-depth&lt;br /&gt;epidemiological study verifies and validates the causal link between&lt;br /&gt;all-weekend parties and  professional performance. It also explains why,&lt;br /&gt;after a few short years of  leaving a university and getting married, most&lt;br /&gt;workers cannot keep up with  the performance of the new graduates. Only&lt;br /&gt;those few that stick to the strict regimen of voracious alcoholic&lt;br /&gt;consumption can maintain the intellectual levels that they achieved during&lt;br /&gt;their university  years. So, this is a call to arms. As our country is&lt;br /&gt;losing its  technological edge we should not shudder in our homes. Get back&lt;br /&gt;into the bars!  Drink that beer! Your company and country need you to be at&lt;br /&gt;your peak,  and you shouldn't deny yourself the career that you could have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108621346711070959?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108621346711070959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108621346711070959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/herd-of-buffalo.html' title='A herd of buffalo'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108621336585455734</id><published>2004-06-02T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T14:56:05.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Binary Humor</title><content type='html'>There are 10 kinds of people in the world:  those who understand binary and those who don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108621336585455734?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108621336585455734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108621336585455734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/06/binary-humor.html' title='Binary Humor'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568382755538915</id><published>2004-05-27T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:50:27.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vegas Cabbie</title><content type='html'>A successful businessman flew to Vegas for the weekend to&lt;br /&gt;gamble. He lost the shirt off his back, and had nothing left but a&lt;br /&gt;quarter and the second half of his round trip ticket  -- If he could&lt;br /&gt;just get to the airport he could get himself home. So he went out to the&lt;br /&gt;front of the casino where there was a cab waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got in and explained his situation to the cabbie. He promised to&lt;br /&gt;send the driver money from home, he offered him his credit card numbers,&lt;br /&gt;his drivers license number, his address, etc. but to no avail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cabbie said  (adopt appropriate dialect), "If you don't have&lt;br /&gt;fifteen dollars, get the hell out of my cab!" So the businessman was&lt;br /&gt;forced to hitchhike to the airport and was barely in time to catch his&lt;br /&gt;flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year later the businessman, having worked long and hard to regain&lt;br /&gt;his financial success, returned to Vegas and this time he won big.&lt;br /&gt;Feeling pretty good about himself, he went out to the front of the&lt;br /&gt;casino to get a cab ride back to the airport. Well who should he see out&lt;br /&gt;there, at the end of a long line of cabs, but his old buddy who had&lt;br /&gt;refused to give him a ride when he was down on his luck. The businessman&lt;br /&gt;thought for a moment about how he could make the guy pay for his lack of&lt;br /&gt;charity, and he hit on a plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The businessman got in the first cab in the line, "How much for a ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the airport," he asked? "Fifteen bucks," came the reply. "And how&lt;br /&gt;much for you to go down on me (oral sex) during the way?" "What?! Get&lt;br /&gt;Out of my cab, you scum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The businessman got into the back of each cab in the long line and&lt;br /&gt;asked the same questions, with the same result - getting kicked out of&lt;br /&gt;each taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got to his old friend at the back of the line, he got in and&lt;br /&gt;asked "How much for a ride to the airport?" The cabbie replied "fifteen&lt;br /&gt;bucks." The businessman said "O.K." and off they went.&lt;br /&gt;Then, as they drove slowly past the long line of cabs the businessman&lt;br /&gt;gave a big smile and thumbs up sign to each driver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568382755538915?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568382755538915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568382755538915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/vegas-cabbie.html' title='Vegas Cabbie'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568364845533748</id><published>2004-05-27T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:47:28.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk is cheap</title><content type='html'>If you think talk is cheap, try hiring a lawyer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568364845533748?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568364845533748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568364845533748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/talk-is-cheap.html' title='Talk is cheap'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568361638245712</id><published>2004-05-27T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:46:56.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How good does she look?</title><content type='html'> No matter how good she looks, some other guy is sick and tired of putting&lt;br /&gt; up with her shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568361638245712?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568361638245712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568361638245712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/how-good-does-she-look.html' title='How good does she look?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568351976132540</id><published>2004-05-27T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:45:19.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INSIDER'S GUIDE TO THE MALE VOCABULARY</title><content type='html'>"Haven't I seen you before?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nice ass."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a Romantic."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm poor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need you"&lt;br /&gt;"My hand is oh so tired."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am different from all the other guys"&lt;br /&gt;"I am not circumcised."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want a commitment."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sick of masturbation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're the only girl I've ever cared about"&lt;br /&gt;"You are the only girl who hasn't rejected me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really want to get to know you better."&lt;br /&gt;"So I can tell my friends about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's just orange juice, try it."&lt;br /&gt;"3 more shots, and she'll have her legs around my head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She's kinda cute."&lt;br /&gt;"I want to shag her till my dick drops off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know if I like her"&lt;br /&gt;"She won't let me shag her "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I miss you so much"&lt;br /&gt;"I am so horny that my male-roommate is starting to look good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Was it good for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm insecure about my manhood."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How do I compare with all your other boyfriends?"&lt;br /&gt;"Is my penis really that small?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I had a wonderful time last night."&lt;br /&gt;"Who the hell are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you love me?"&lt;br /&gt;"I've done something stupid and you might find out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you 'really' love me?"&lt;br /&gt;"I've done something stupid and you're going to find out sooner or later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much do you love me?"&lt;br /&gt;"I've done something really stupid and someone's on his way to tell you&lt;br /&gt;&gt;about it now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have something to tell you."&lt;br /&gt;"Get tested."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll give you a call."&lt;br /&gt;"I'd rather have my nipples torn off by wild dogs than see you again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've been thinking a lot."&lt;br /&gt;"You're not as attractive as when I was drunk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think we should just be friends."&lt;br /&gt;"You're ugly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've learned a lot from you."&lt;br /&gt;"Next!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568351976132540?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568351976132540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568351976132540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/insiders-guide-to-male-vocabulary.html' title='INSIDER&apos;S GUIDE TO THE MALE VOCABULARY'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568344897079769</id><published>2004-05-27T11:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:44:08.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa suggestion</title><content type='html'>A cop on horseback is at a traffic light, and next to him is a kid on his&lt;br /&gt;bike. The cop says to the kid, "Nice bike you got there. Santa bring that&lt;br /&gt;to you?" The kid says, "Yeah." The cop says, "Tell Santa next year to put&lt;br /&gt;a taillight on that bike."  The kid says, "Nice horse you got there. Did&lt;br /&gt;Santa bring that to you?" The cop says, "Yeah." The kid says, "Well, tell&lt;br /&gt;Santa next year to put the dick underneath the horse, instead of on top."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568344897079769?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568344897079769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568344897079769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/santa-suggestion.html' title='Santa suggestion'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108568339873837598</id><published>2004-05-27T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:43:18.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Smoke Rings</title><content type='html'>A guy traveling through the prairies of the USA stopped at a&lt;br /&gt;small town and went to a bar.  He stood at the end of the bar,&lt;br /&gt;ordered a drink, and lit up a cigar.  As he sipped his drink, he&lt;br /&gt;stood there quietly blowing smoke rings.  After he  blew nine or&lt;br /&gt;ten smoke rings into the air, an angry American Indian&lt;br /&gt;stomped  up to him and said, "One more remark like that&lt;br /&gt;and I'll smash your face in!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108568339873837598?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568339873837598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108568339873837598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/smoke-rings.html' title='Smoke Rings'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108516151968549340</id><published>2004-05-21T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T10:45:19.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Half time</title><content type='html'>A guy comes home from the bar drunk one night around 3 in the morning.  His&lt;br /&gt;wife is sleeping and he is trying to sneak into bed.  He's laying in bed&lt;br /&gt;for&lt;br /&gt;a few minutes and cuts a fart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife wakes up and asks, "What the hell was that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replies, "Touchdown, I am winning 7 nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thinks to herself "I'm gonna fix him." Then she lets one loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He yells at her, "What was that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replies "Touchdown, tie score."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he thinks, "I'm gonna fix her."  He's laying there for about 10 minutes&lt;br /&gt;trying to work one up.  He tries so hard he shits in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife asks, "Now what the hell was that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied, "Half time, switch sides."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108516151968549340?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516151968549340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516151968549340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/half-time.html' title='Half time'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108516142357239775</id><published>2004-05-21T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T10:43:43.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who IS your daddy?</title><content type='html'>A woman starts dating a doctor. Before too long she became pregnant and&lt;br /&gt;they didn't know what to do.  About nine months later, just about the&lt;br /&gt;time she is going to give birth, a priest goes into the hospital for a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;prostate gland infection. The doctor says to the woman, "I know what&lt;br /&gt;we'll do. After I've operated on the priest, I'll give the baby&lt;br /&gt;to him and tell him it was a miracle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you think it will work?" she asks the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's worth a try," he says.  So the doctor delivers the baby and then&lt;br /&gt;operates on the priest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the operation he goes in to the priest and says, "Father, you're&lt;br /&gt;not going to believe this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What ?" asked the priest,  "What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You gave birth to a child ", replied the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But that's impossible!", said the stunned priest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just did the operation," insists the doctor. "It's a miracle !  Here's&lt;br /&gt;your baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifteen years has gone by, and the priest realizes that he must tell his&lt;br /&gt;son the truth. One day he sits with the boy and says, "Son, I have&lt;br /&gt;something to tell you. This is very difficult and I don't know where to&lt;br /&gt;start. Here goes.....I'm not your father."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puzzled the son says, "What do you mean, you're not my father?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest replies, "I'm your mother.  The archbishop is your father."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108516142357239775?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516142357239775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516142357239775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/who-is-your-daddy.html' title='Who IS your daddy?'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108516108041183721</id><published>2004-05-21T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T10:38:00.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Under The Stars</title><content type='html'>Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a camping trip. After a good&lt;br /&gt;meal and a bottle of wine they were exhausted and went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend. "Watson,&lt;br /&gt;look up at the sky and tell me what you see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What does that tell you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watson pondered for a minute.  "Astronomically, it tells me that there&lt;br /&gt;are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo.  Time wise, I deduce&lt;br /&gt;that the time is approximately a quarter past three."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Theologically, I can see that the Lord is all powerful and that we are&lt;br /&gt;&gt;small and insignificant.  Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have&lt;br /&gt;a &gt;beautiful day tomorrow.  What does it tell you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke.  "Watson, you idiot, Some&lt;br /&gt;bastard has stolen our tent."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108516108041183721?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516108041183721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108516108041183721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/under-stars.html' title='Under The Stars'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108500250358902111</id><published>2004-05-19T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T14:35:03.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>thermodynamics exam</title><content type='html'>&gt;Here's one for the science &amp; engineering types...&lt;br /&gt;&gt; A TRUE STORY&lt;br /&gt;&gt; A thermodynamics professor had written a take home exam for his students.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; It had one question:  "Is hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic&lt;br /&gt;(absorbs heat)?  Support your answer with a proof."&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyleis Law or&lt;br /&gt;some variant.  One student, however, wrote the following:&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass.&lt;br /&gt;If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass.  So, at what rate&lt;br /&gt;are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving?  I think&lt;br /&gt;that we can safely assume that once a soul gets into hell, it will not&lt;br /&gt;leave.  Therefore, no souls are leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; As for souls entering hell, let's look at the different religions that&lt;br /&gt;exist in the world today.  Some of these religions state that if you are&lt;br /&gt;not a memeber of their religion, you will go to hell.  Since there are more&lt;br /&gt;than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one&lt;br /&gt;religion we can project that all people, and all souls, go to hell.  With&lt;br /&gt;birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in&lt;br /&gt;hell to increase exponentially.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell.  Boyleis Law states&lt;br /&gt;that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same,&lt;br /&gt;the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; #1 So, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls&lt;br /&gt;enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase until&lt;br /&gt;all hell breaks loose.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; #2 Of course, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of&lt;br /&gt;souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell&lt;br /&gt;freezes over.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; So which is it?  If we accept the postulate given to me by Therese Banyan&lt;br /&gt;during Freshman year, "that it will be a cold night in hell before I sleep&lt;br /&gt;with you" and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in&lt;br /&gt;having sexual relations with her, then #2 cannot be true, and hell is&lt;br /&gt;exothermic.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; The student got the only A.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108500250358902111?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500250358902111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500250358902111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/thermodynamics-exam.html' title='thermodynamics exam'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108500146207621997</id><published>2004-05-19T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T14:17:42.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're next</title><content type='html'>When I was younger I hated going to weddings ...it&lt;br /&gt;seemed that all of my&lt;br /&gt;aunts and the grandmotherly types used to come up to&lt;br /&gt;me, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me,&lt;br /&gt;"You're next."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They stopped that shit after I started doing the&lt;br /&gt;same thing to them at&lt;br /&gt;funerals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108500146207621997?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500146207621997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500146207621997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/youre-next.html' title='You&apos;re next'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108500066712827911</id><published>2004-05-19T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T14:04:27.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Quiz for The Gentlemen</title><content type='html'>1. In the company of feminists, coitus should be referred to as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Lovemaking&lt;br /&gt;b) Screwing&lt;br /&gt;c) The pigskin bus pulling into tuna town&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You should make love to a woman for the first time only after you've&lt;br /&gt;both shared:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Your views about what you expect from a sexual relationship&lt;br /&gt;b) Your blood-test results&lt;br /&gt;c) Five tequila slammers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You time your orgasm so that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Your partner climaxes first&lt;br /&gt;b) You both climax simultaneously&lt;br /&gt;c) You don't miss Sports Center&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Passionate, spontaneous sex on the kitchen floor is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Healthy, creative love-play&lt;br /&gt;b) Not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend would ever agree to&lt;br /&gt;c) Not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend need ever find out about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Spending the whole night cuddling a woman you've just had sex with&lt;br /&gt;is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) The best part of the experience&lt;br /&gt;b) The second best part of the experience&lt;br /&gt;c) $100 extra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Your girlfriend says she's gained five pounds in weight in the last&lt;br /&gt;month. You tell her that it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) No concern of yours&lt;br /&gt;b) Not a problem - she can join your gym&lt;br /&gt;c) A conservative estimate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You think today's sensitive, caring man is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) A myth&lt;br /&gt;b) An oxymoron&lt;br /&gt;c) A moron&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Foreplay is to sex as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Appetizer is to entree&lt;br /&gt;b) Priming is to painting&lt;br /&gt;c) A queue is to an amusement park ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Which of the following are you most likely to find yourself saying&lt;br /&gt;at the end of a relationship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) "I hope we can still be friends."&lt;br /&gt;b) "I'm not in right now. Please leave a message after the tone...."&lt;br /&gt;c) "Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: You."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. A woman who is uncomfortable watching you masturbate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Probably needs a little more time before she can cope with that sort&lt;br /&gt;of intimacy&lt;br /&gt;b) Is uptight and a waste of time&lt;br /&gt;c) Shouldn't have sat next to you on the bus in the first place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you answered 'A' more than 7 times, check your pants to make sure&lt;br /&gt;you really are a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you answered 'B' more than 7 times, check into therapy, you're still&lt;br /&gt;a little confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you answered 'C' more than 7 times, call me up. Let's go drinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108500066712827911?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500066712827911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108500066712827911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/quiz-for-gentlemen.html' title='A Quiz for The Gentlemen'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108490674629019921</id><published>2004-05-18T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T11:59:06.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>optimist, pessimist, engineer </title><content type='html'>To the optimist, the glass is half full.&lt;br /&gt;To the pessimist, the glass is half empty.&lt;br /&gt;To the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108490674629019921?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490674629019921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490674629019921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/optimist-pessimist-engineer_18.html' title='optimist, pessimist, engineer '/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108490584693640075</id><published>2004-05-18T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T11:44:06.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A FREE RIDE</title><content type='html'>                     A FREE RIDE&lt;br /&gt;             __________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumpy and his wife Martha went to the State Fair every year.&lt;br /&gt;Every year Stumpy would say, "Martha, I'd like to ride in that&lt;br /&gt;there airplane."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every year Martha would say, "I know, Stumpy, but that airplane&lt;br /&gt;ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one year Stumpy and Martha went to the fair and Stumpy said,&lt;br /&gt;"Martha, I'm 71 years old.  If I don't ride that airplane this year&lt;br /&gt;I may never get another chance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Martha replied, "Stumpy, that there airplane ride costs ten dollars,&lt;br /&gt;and ten dollars is ten dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot overheard them and said, "Folks, I'll make you a deal.&lt;br /&gt;I'll take you both up for a ride.  If you can stay quiet for the&lt;br /&gt;entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you, but if you&lt;br /&gt;say one word it's ten dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumpy and Martha agree and up they go.  The pilot does all kinds&lt;br /&gt;of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word is heard.  He&lt;br /&gt;does all his tricks over again, but still not a word.  They land&lt;br /&gt;and the pilot turns to Stumpy, "By golly, I did everything I could&lt;br /&gt;think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumpy replied, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell&lt;br /&gt;out, but ten dollars is ten dollars."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108490584693640075?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490584693640075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490584693640075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/free-ride.html' title='A FREE RIDE'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108490519995144249</id><published>2004-05-18T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T11:33:19.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Empire State Building</title><content type='html'>Empire State Building&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;This guy enters a bar located at the top of the Empire State Building in New York. It looked like a nice place and he then takes a seat at the bar next to another guy. "This is a nice place, I've never been here before," the first guy says.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh really?" the other replies, "it's also a very special bar."&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Why is that?", the first guy asks.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, you see that painting on the far wall?  That's an original Van Gogh, and this stool I'm sitting on was on the Titanic."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Gee, that's amazing!", the first guy says.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Not only that, but you see that window over there, fourth from the right?  Well, the wind does strange things outside that window. If you jump out, you'll fall about 50 feet before the wind catches you and you're pushed back up."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"No way, that's impossible", the first guy replies.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Not at all, take a look," the other man replies and walks over to the window, followed closely by the first man. He opens the window, climbs over the sill and falls out. He drops 10...20...30...40...50 feet, comes to a stop, and whoosh! He comes right back up and sails back through the window.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"See, it's fun. You should try it", he says.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Try it? I don't even believe I saw it!" the first man shouts.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"It's easy. Watch, I'll do it again." And with that, he falls out the window, again. He drops 10...20...30...40...50 feet, comes to a stop, and whoosh!...he comes right back up and sails back through the window.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Go ahead, give it a try, it's a blast!", he says.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, what the heck, OK...I'll give it a try," the first man says and proceeds to fall out the window. He falls 10...20...30...40...50...100...200...300...500...1000 feet and SPLAT!!!!...ends up as road pizza on the sidewalk below.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After calmly watching the first man fall to his death, the other guy casually closes the window and heads back to the bar and orders another drink. The bartender arrives with the drink and says, "You know, Superman, you're a real jerk when you're drunk!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108490519995144249?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490519995144249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490519995144249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/empire-state-building.html' title='Empire State Building'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108490507596405483</id><published>2004-05-18T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T11:31:15.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow boat</title><content type='html'>Slow boat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A depressed young woman was so desperate that she decided to end&lt;br /&gt;her life by throwing herself into the ocean in the port of New York. When she &lt;br /&gt;went down to the docks, a sailor noticed her tears, took&lt;br /&gt;pity on her, and said, "Look, you've got a lot to live for. I'm off to Europe in&lt;br /&gt;the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good &lt;br /&gt;care of you and bring you food every day."  Moving closer, he slipped his arm &lt;br /&gt;around her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy.&lt;br /&gt;The girl nodded "yes."  After all, what did she have to lose?&lt;br /&gt;That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then &lt;br /&gt;on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they &lt;br /&gt;made passionate love until dawn.  Three weeks later, during a routine search, &lt;br /&gt;she was discovered by the captain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?" the Captain asked.&lt;br /&gt;"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "He's taking me &lt;br /&gt;to Europe, and he's screwing me.&lt;br /&gt;"He sure is, lady," said the Captain. "This is the Staten Island Ferry.".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108490507596405483?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490507596405483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108490507596405483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/slow-boat.html' title='Slow boat'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7028738.post-108489925421787275</id><published>2004-05-18T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-22T16:28:49.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>54 Reasons Why Sheep are Better Than Women</title><content type='html'>1.Sheep don't have a gag reflex, or upper teeth.&lt;br /&gt;2.You can get a better grip on a sheep's ear.&lt;br /&gt;3.Sheep don't shy away from boots and leather.&lt;br /&gt;4.Cotton mouth is easier to get rid of than a social disease.&lt;br /&gt;5.Nuttin' beats mutton!&lt;br /&gt;6.Sheep won't argue about whose turn it is to go get a towel.&lt;br /&gt;7.Sheep won't drink your liquor, smoke your weed, snort your coke, and then tell you they have to be home early.&lt;br /&gt;8.Sheep never ask if you're ready to settle down.&lt;br /&gt;9.Sheep never ask about you former lovers and then get pissed off when you tell them.&lt;br /&gt;10.No matter how old or ugly you are, you can always find a willing ewe.&lt;br /&gt;11.Sheep are never concerned about their reputation.&lt;br /&gt;12.Sheep won't tell all their friends about the time you couldn't get it up.&lt;br /&gt;13.Sheep won't ask if you're gay, when you can't get it up for the second time.&lt;br /&gt;14.Sheep never insist on eating out.&lt;br /&gt;15.You'll never catch your sheep masturbating to a picture of Mel Gibson.&lt;br /&gt;16.Sheep don't get suspicious if you have to work late.&lt;br /&gt;17.Sheep don't smell like tuna fish.&lt;br /&gt;18.Sheep don't get moody once a month.&lt;br /&gt;19.You can eat a lamb chop without getting wool stuck in your teeth.&lt;br /&gt;20.A sheep doesn't expect you to support her for the rest of her life after one roll in the hay.&lt;br /&gt;21.A sheep never wears curlers and a mud pack to bed.&lt;br /&gt;22.A sheep doesn't stop screwing after the honeymoon.&lt;br /&gt;23.A sheep won't get drunk and throw up in your car.&lt;br /&gt;24.A sheep won't think that a weekend stay-over entitles her to rearrange your furniture and put up new curtains.&lt;br /&gt;25.A sheep won't expect you to pay...and pay...and pay...and pay&lt;br /&gt;26.A sheep will never complain about the spittoon in your pickup.&lt;br /&gt;27.A sheep will never throw out your old copies of Playboy.&lt;br /&gt;28.A sheep won't care of you keep your fish bait in the refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt;29.A sheep won't get even with you by spending your paycheck on new clothes, none of which are see-through or meant to be worn in the bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;30.A sheep will never sue you for palimony.&lt;br /&gt;31.A sheep won't care if you screw her sister.&lt;br /&gt;32.A sheep won't care if your secretary is better looking than she is.&lt;br /&gt;33.A sheep will never tell you the ceiling needs to be painted while you're screwing.&lt;br /&gt;34.A sheep won't use you razor to shave its legs, or your pocket knife to open a paint can.&lt;br /&gt;35.Sheep never have a headache.&lt;br /&gt;36.A sheep won't give your favorite hunting shirt to Goodwill.&lt;br /&gt;37.A sheep won't leave wet nylons hanging all over the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;38.A sheep will never ask you to stop on the way home from work and pick up a box of tampons.&lt;br /&gt;39.Sheep grow their own fur coats.&lt;br /&gt;40.A sheep will never leave a vibrator on the living room couch when you're having friends over to watch football.&lt;br /&gt;41.Sheep won't cheat on you with your best friend.&lt;br /&gt;42.A sheep will never ask if you'll still respect her in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;43.Sheep aren't into talking before or after sex.&lt;br /&gt;44.A sheep never yells at you for leaving the lid up.&lt;br /&gt;45.A sheep won't send you out for batteries for her vibrator.&lt;br /&gt;46.A sheep doesn't think it's demeaning or kinky to do it doggy style.&lt;br /&gt;47.A sheep won't mind if you put up mirrors in the bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;48.Sheep are "ram tough".&lt;br /&gt;49.A sheep won't think your cheap and tacky if you: send daisies instead of long-stemmed red roses, tip less than 20%, wear levis with a hole in the seat, or open beer bottles with your teeth.&lt;br /&gt;50.Sheep don't mind if you leave the lights on.&lt;br /&gt;51.Sheep don't mind doing it in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;52.Sheep don't mind doing it in a pickup truck.&lt;br /&gt;53.A sheep will never use the excuse that: she just did her nails, it's too hot, it's too cold, you'll wake up the kids, you'll wake the neighbors, she's too drunk to enjoy it, or she's not drunk enough to enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;54.A sheep will never leave you for a cucumber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7028738-108489925421787275?l=rsrhumor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108489925421787275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7028738/posts/default/108489925421787275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rsrhumor.blogspot.com/2004/05/54-reasons-why-sheep-are-better-than.html' title='54 Reasons Why Sheep are Better Than Women'/><author><name>Reuben Reviewer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10936583164820475740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
