<?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-6430465535499217873</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:19:02.645-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On The Run, Mid-South Most Wanted</title><subtitle type='html'>Shelby County Most Wanted</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>160</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6550963656627273441</id><published>2010-01-21T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T09:12:16.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Credit card company call</title><content type='html'>A man receives a call from his Credit Card Company, “Sir, we have detected an unusual pattern of spending on your card, and we are calling to see if everything is alright.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes,” replied the man. “My card was stolen over a month ago.” “Why didn’t you report your card as stolen?” asked the card company representative. The man replied, “Well, whoever stole my card is spending a lot less than my wife!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6550963656627273441?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6550963656627273441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6550963656627273441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6550963656627273441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6550963656627273441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/credit-card-company-call.html' title='Credit card company call'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3789295011946187250</id><published>2010-01-20T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T09:53:44.158-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If we were speeding,</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Trying to come to the aid of  his Dad, who was stopped by an officer for speeding, the mischievous child piped  up, “Yeah? Well, if we were speeding, so were you!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3789295011946187250?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3789295011946187250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3789295011946187250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3789295011946187250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3789295011946187250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/if-we-were-speeding.html' title='If we were speeding,'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6928083858866840180</id><published>2010-01-18T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T15:30:55.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Didn't come to see me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;A politician was walking  home from the county courthouse the evening of Election Day when he came upon a  young boy sitting on the curb, bawling his eyes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are you  crying?" the politician asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My dad died," the boy  replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's terrible, when did it happen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Five years ago,"  the boy said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Five years ago? And you are still this  upset?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's not that," the boy said. "It's just that my dad voted  today, but he didn't come to see me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6928083858866840180?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6928083858866840180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6928083858866840180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6928083858866840180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6928083858866840180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/he-didnt-come-to-see-me.html' title='He Didn&apos;t come to see me'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3990980149851710608</id><published>2010-01-12T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T08:50:12.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How long is your flight to?</title><content type='html'>An idiot called the airport for flight information. "How long is your flight from Los Angeles to Denver?” he asked. "Just a minute," the pleasant agent replied. "Thank You" he said and hung up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3990980149851710608?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3990980149851710608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3990980149851710608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3990980149851710608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3990980149851710608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/how-long-is-your-flight-to.html' title='How long is your flight to?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3742400253987921034</id><published>2010-01-05T20:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T11:25:06.349-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two boy scouts went on a nature hike in the hills picking hickory nuts.</title><content type='html'>Along the way, they filled their small pails and then started to fill their pockets and shirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they could hold no more nuts, they started down the country road until they came across a cemetery. The boys decided that would be a good place to stop and rest and divide out the nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two boys sat in the shade of a large oak tree and unloaded their pockets and buckets by dumping all of the nuts in a large pile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the process, two of them rolled away and rested near the road. The boys then proceeded to divide out the nuts. "One for you. One for me. One for you. One for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were doing this, another boy was passing by and happened to hear them. He looked into the cemetery, but could not see the boys, because they were obscured by the tree. He hesitated a moment and then ran back to town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Father! Father!" he yelled as he entered his house. "The cemetery. Come quick!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter?" his father asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No time to explain," the boy frantically panted. "Follow me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy and his father ran up the country road and stopped when they reached the cemetery. They stopped at the side of the road and all fell silent for a few moments. Then the father asked his son what was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you hear that?" he whispered. Both people listened intently and heard the Scouts. "One for me. One for you. One for me. One for you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy then blurted out, "The devil and the Lord are dividing the souls!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father was skeptical but silent -- until a few moments later as the Scouts completed dividing out the nuts and one Scout said to the other, "Now, as soon as we get those two nuts down by the road, we'll have them all."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3742400253987921034?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3742400253987921034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3742400253987921034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3742400253987921034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3742400253987921034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-boy-scouts-went-on-nature-hike-in.html' title='Two boy scouts went on a nature hike in the hills picking hickory nuts.'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2479361523581963399</id><published>2010-01-05T20:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:22:25.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobriety Test</title><content type='html'>A juggler, driving to his next performance, is stopped by the police. "What are those machetes doing in your car?" asks the cop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I juggle them in my act."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah? Says the doubtful cop. "Let's see you do it.” The juggler gets out and starts tossing and catching the knives. Another man driving by slows down to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow" says the passer-by. "I'm glad I quit drinking. Look at the test they're giving now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2479361523581963399?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2479361523581963399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2479361523581963399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2479361523581963399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2479361523581963399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/sobriety-test.html' title='Sobriety Test'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7983280241660613593</id><published>2010-01-05T19:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T11:49:26.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I didn't know</title><content type='html'>A middle-aged woman had a heart attack and was taken to the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hospital. While on the operating table, she had a near death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;experience. Seeing God, she asked, "Is my time up?" God said, "No, you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have another 43 years, two months and eight days to live." Upon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a face-lift,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liposuction and tummy tuck. Since she had so much more time to live, she&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;figured she might as well look even nicer. After her last operation, she&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was released from the hospital. While crossing the street on her way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;home, an ambulance killed her. Arriving in front of God, she demanded,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you said I had another 40 years? Why didn't you pull me out of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the path of that ambulance?" God replied, "Girl, I didn't recognize you”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7983280241660613593?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7983280241660613593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7983280241660613593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7983280241660613593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7983280241660613593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-didnt-know.html' title='I didn&apos;t know'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6162177992052780683</id><published>2010-01-05T19:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T16:54:29.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawyer Jokes</title><content type='html'>A butcher saw a Lawyer passing by his shop one day, and asked him: Atty., what would you do if a dog came in and stole your meat? Lawyer replied: why? of course, I’ll make the owner pay for it! The butcher said: If that is so, now you owe me $15 because it is your dog. The Lawyer replied: very well, just deduct the $15 from the $25 you owe me for the advice, I’ll collect the remaining $10 the next time I pass by here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6162177992052780683?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6162177992052780683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6162177992052780683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6162177992052780683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6162177992052780683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/lawyer-jokes.html' title='Lawyer Jokes'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4717908388902813505</id><published>2010-01-05T19:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T15:42:25.231-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here is a...</title><content type='html'>A little man is sitting in a bar when a big guy comes up and says here’s a punch from Japan the little man gets up and the big guy goes here’s a kick from Korea knocking him down the little guy just smiles and goes away 15 minutes later he comes over and knock the guy out cold then he looks at the bartender and says when he wakes up tell him that was a crowbar from "Lowes."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4717908388902813505?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4717908388902813505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4717908388902813505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4717908388902813505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4717908388902813505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/here-is.html' title='Here is a...'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1504014006372449483</id><published>2010-01-05T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T11:41:07.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Military Joke</title><content type='html'>Returning to West Point late one night, Colonel Schultz and his wife were challenged by the sentry at the gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Halt and identify yourself!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” declared the startled woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sentry stepped aside. “Advance, Holy Family, to be recognized.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1504014006372449483?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1504014006372449483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1504014006372449483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1504014006372449483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1504014006372449483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/military-joke.html' title='Military Joke'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8946874475160620218</id><published>2010-01-05T13:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T08:22:45.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Hundred Percent</title><content type='html'>Patient: "What are the chances of my recovering doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: "One hundred percent. Medical records show that nine out of ten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people die of the disease you have. "Yours is the tenth case I've treated;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the others all died."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8946874475160620218?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8946874475160620218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8946874475160620218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8946874475160620218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8946874475160620218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-hundred-percent.html' title='One Hundred Percent'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4348724878904755034</id><published>2010-01-05T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T22:09:46.909-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you know what today is?</title><content type='html'>Over breakfast one morning, a woman said to her husband, "I bet you don't know what day this is." "Of course I do," he indignantly answered, going out the door on his way to the office. At 10 a.m., the doorbell rang, and when the woman opened the door, she was handed a box containing a dozen long-stemmed red roses. At 1 p.m., a foil-wrapped, two pound box of her favorite chocolates arrived. Later, a boutique delivered a designer dress. The woman couldn't wait for her husband to come home. "First the flowers, then the candy, and then the dress!" she exclaimed. "I've never spent a more wonderful Groundhog Day in my whole life!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4348724878904755034?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4348724878904755034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4348724878904755034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4348724878904755034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4348724878904755034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2010/01/do-you-know-what-today-is.html' title='Do you know what today is?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3950913731620034188</id><published>2009-07-07T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T06:03:19.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Altzeimer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;What's the good thing about  having Altzeimer's?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get to meet new people every day! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3950913731620034188?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3950913731620034188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3950913731620034188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3950913731620034188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3950913731620034188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/altzeimer.html' title='Altzeimer'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2129326727174279147</id><published>2009-07-07T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T06:01:07.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving instructor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;The driving instructor was  giving lessons to an extremely nervous student who panicked whenever another car  approached on a particular two-lane road. One day, however, they got to the same  stretch of road; and the student remained completely calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This time  you’re doing fine!” exclaimed the instructor. “Yes,” the novice driver agreed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now when I see another car coming, I shut my eyes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2129326727174279147?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2129326727174279147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2129326727174279147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2129326727174279147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2129326727174279147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/driving-instructor.html' title='Driving instructor'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-820062008823655091</id><published>2009-07-07T05:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T05:58:39.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The bass players</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;A year ago, Hans Vonk  conducted the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra in a production of Beethoven's Ninth  Symphony. During the final movement of Beethoven's Ninth, there is a large pause  in the Orchestration where only the chorus sings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four bass players,  feeling they could use this break to get out and stretch their legs, slipped off  backstage and proceeded to go outside to smoke a cigarette and take a little nip  from a bottle one of them was carrying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, they lost track of time and  became quite inebriated. Finally one of them says, "Say! We should really be  getting back in... It's almost time to play our part."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry,"  confided one of the other bassists with a wink. "I've fixed it so that we have a  longer pause... I tied together the last parts of the conductor's score before  our part begins!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the bass players had a good chuckle and took a few  more swigs and headed in. Once they popped back on stage, they saw that  conductor Vonk was absolutely furious. After all, it was the bottom of the  Ninth, the basses were loaded, and the score was tied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-820062008823655091?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/820062008823655091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=820062008823655091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/820062008823655091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/820062008823655091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/bass-players.html' title='The bass players'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2695257026608752295</id><published>2009-07-05T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:11:06.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Checks in the mail</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Answering the phone, the  priest was surprised to hear the caller introduce herself as an IRS  auditor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But we do not pay taxes,” the priest said. “It isn’t you,  Father, it’s one of your parishioner, Sean McCullough. He indicates on his tax  return that he gave a donation of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$15,000 to the church last year. Is  this, in fact, the truth?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest smiled broadly. “The check hasn’t  arrived yet, but I’m sure I’ll have it when I remind dear Sean.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2695257026608752295?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2695257026608752295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2695257026608752295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2695257026608752295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2695257026608752295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/checks-in-mail.html' title='Checks in the mail'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-273595132532778523</id><published>2009-07-05T18:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T18:21:37.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>homework</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Sam: Dad, would you do my  math homework for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad: No, son, it wouldn’t be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam:  Well, at least you could try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-273595132532778523?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/273595132532778523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=273595132532778523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/273595132532778523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/273595132532778523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/homework.html' title='homework'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8478235469083193800</id><published>2009-07-05T18:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T18:19:51.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cat scan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;A lady awoke one morning and  discovered her dog was not moving. She called her vet who asked her to bring the  dog in. After a brief examination, the vet pronounced the dog dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are  you sure?", the distraught woman asked. "He was a great family pet.Isn't there  anything else you can do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vet paused for a moment and said, "There  is one more thing we can do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He left the room for a moment and came back  carrying a large cage with a cat in it. The vet opened the cage door and the cat  walked over to the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cat sniffed the dog from head to toe and  walked back to the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, that confirms it." the vet announced.  "Your dog is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satisfied that the vet had done everything he  possibly could, the woman sighed, "How much do I owe you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That will be  $330." the vet replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't believe it!", screamed the woman. "What  did you do that cost $330????"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", the vet replied, "it's $30 for the  office visit and $300 for the cat scan."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8478235469083193800?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8478235469083193800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8478235469083193800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8478235469083193800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8478235469083193800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/07/cat-scan.html' title='cat scan'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4295763367835988316</id><published>2009-04-14T08:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T08:23:47.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>is 50 enough?</title><content type='html'>Bill Clinton is visiting his "office" in Harlem and gets on the elevator. Already on it is a young lady who is obviously a hooker. She gives Bill a wink and, since Hillary is out of the country (thanks, Barack!), Bill asks, "How much?" She answers back, "$500". He chuckles and says he usually doesn't have to pay for it, saying "Would you take $50?". She says "Forget it" and goes on her way.The next day Bill gets on the elevator again and is happy to see the same hooker also there. He asks, "How much now?" and she says, "It's still $500." He again says, "Would you take $50?" and, as before, she turns him down. The next day Hillary is back in town and she joins Bill as he goes to his office. When the two of them get on the elevator he is not so happy to see the hooker. He ignores her and she ignores him, but after a short while she leans over and whispers in his ear, "See what you get for $50!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4295763367835988316?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4295763367835988316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4295763367835988316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4295763367835988316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4295763367835988316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-50-enough.html' title='is 50 enough?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8043425946125698241</id><published>2009-04-14T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T08:22:19.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The pastor</title><content type='html'>A pastor's wife was expecting a baby, so he stood before the congregation and asked for a raise. After much discussion, they passed a rule that whenever the preacher's family expanded, so would his paycheck. After 6 children, this started to get expensive and the congregation decided to hold another meeting to discuss the preacher's expanding s alary. A great deal of yelling and inner bickering ensued, as to how much the clergyman's additional children were costing the church, and how much more it could potentially cost.After listening to them for about an hour, the pastor rose from his chair and spoke, "Children are a gift from God, and we will take as many gifts as He gives us."Silence fell on the congregation. In the back pew, a little old lady struggled to stand, and finally said in her frail voice, "Rain is also a gift from God, but when we get too much of it , we wear rubbers." The entire congregation said, "AMEN!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8043425946125698241?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8043425946125698241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8043425946125698241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8043425946125698241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8043425946125698241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/pastor.html' title='The pastor'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4893302881894387569</id><published>2009-04-14T08:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T08:17:34.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>is my wife cheating?</title><content type='html'>A man returns home a day early from a business trip. It's after midnight. While en route home he asks the cabby if he would be a witness. The man suspects his wife is having an affair and he wants to catch her in the act. For $100, the cabby agrees. Quietly arriving home, the husband and cabby tiptoe into the bedroom. The husband switches on the lights, yanks the blanket back and there is his wife in bed with another man! The husband puts a gun to the naked man's head. The wife shouts, 'Don't do it! I lied when I told you I inherited money.HE paid for the Corvette I gave you. HE paid for our new cabin cruiser. HE paid for your season Pittsburgh Steelers tickets. HE paid for our house at the lake. HE paid for our country club membership, and HE even pays the monthly dues!' Shaking his head from side-to-side, the husband lowers the gun. He looks over at the cabby and says, 'What would you do?'The cabby replies, 'I'd cover his ass with that blanket before he catches cold.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4893302881894387569?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4893302881894387569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4893302881894387569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4893302881894387569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4893302881894387569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-my-wife-cheating.html' title='is my wife cheating?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3433177330962784916</id><published>2009-04-14T08:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T08:14:56.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the buglary</title><content type='html'>Returning home from work, a blonde was shocked to find her house ransacked and burglarized. She telephoned the police at once and reported the crime.The police dispatcher broadcast the call on the radio, and a K-9 unit, patrolling nearby, was the first to respond. As the K-9 officer approached the house with his dog on a leash, the blonde ran out on the porch, shuddered at the sight of the cop and his dog, then sat down on the steps. Putting her face in her hands, she moaned, 'I come home to find all my possessions stolen. I call the police for help, and what do they do? They send me a BLIND policeman!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3433177330962784916?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3433177330962784916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3433177330962784916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3433177330962784916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3433177330962784916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/buglary.html' title='the buglary'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3875811493369156482</id><published>2009-04-08T08:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T08:01:45.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trout</title><content type='html'>You know how to catch a nice big trout? You look for a place in the stream where there's a sunken log or hole where the big ones like to hang out. Every day for a week, you throw in a handful of worms and a sugar cookie. On the last day, you just throw in the worms. When the trout sticks his head out of the water to see what happened to the sugar cookie, you hit him over the head with a baseball bat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3875811493369156482?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3875811493369156482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3875811493369156482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3875811493369156482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3875811493369156482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/trout.html' title='Trout'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8185456416065372956</id><published>2009-04-06T08:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:18:47.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Poet and the Scientist</title><content type='html'>A poet and a scientist were traveling together on a plane. The scientist was bored and said to the poet, "Hey, you, do you want to play a game? I'll ask you a question, and if you get it wrong, you give me $5. Then, you ask me a question, and if I can't answer it, I'll give you $5."The poet thought about this for a moment, but he decided against it, seeing that the scientist was obviously a very bright man. He politely turned down the scientist's offer.The scientist, who was really bored, tried again. "Look, I'll ask you a question, and if you can't answer it, you give me $5. Then you ask me a question, and if I can't answer it, I'll give you $50."The poet agreed. "Okay," the scientist said, "what is the exact distance between the Earth and the Moon?"The poet, obviously not knowing the answer, didn't stop to think about the scientist's question. He took a $5 bill out of his pocket and handed it to the scientist.The scientist happily accepted the bill and promptly said, "Okay, now it's your turn."The poet thought about this for a few minutes, then asked, "All right, what goes up a mountain on three legs, but comes down on four?"The bright glow quickly vanished from the scientist's face. He thought about this for a long time, taking out his notepad and making numerous calculations. He finally gave up on his notepad and took out his laptop, using his Multimedia Encyclopedia. As the plane was landing the scientist gave up. He reluctantly handed the poet a $50 bill.The poet accepted it graciously, getting ready to stand up. "Wait!" the scientist shouted, "you can't do this to me! What's the answer?"The poet looked at the scientist and calmly put a $5 bill into his hand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8185456416065372956?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8185456416065372956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8185456416065372956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8185456416065372956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8185456416065372956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/poet-and-scientist.html' title='The Poet and the Scientist'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1162049080644159455</id><published>2009-04-06T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:13:11.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanuts</title><content type='html'>A policeman brought four boys before a judge. "They were causing an awful lot of commotion at the zoo, your Honor," he said."Boys," said the judge sternly, "I never like to hear reports of juvenile delinquency. Now I want each of you to tell me your name and what you were doing wrong.""My name is George," said the first boy, "and I threw peanuts into the elephant pen.""My name is Pete," said the second boy, "and I threw peanuts into the elephant pen.""My name is Mike," said the third boy, "and I threw peanuts into the elephant pen.""My name is Peanuts," said the fourth boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1162049080644159455?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1162049080644159455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1162049080644159455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1162049080644159455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1162049080644159455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/peanuts.html' title='Peanuts'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8880602033270278384</id><published>2009-04-06T08:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:10:55.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE LOGICAL WIFE</title><content type='html'>After being married for 40 years, I took a careful look at my wife one day and said,&lt;br /&gt;'Honey, 40 years ago we had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed&lt;br /&gt;and watched a 10-inch black and white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a&lt;br /&gt;hot 25-year-old gal. 'Now I have a $1,500,000.00 home, a $70,000.00 car, nice&lt;br /&gt;big bed and plasma screen TV, but I'm sleeping with a 65-year-old woman.It seems to me that you're not holding up your side of things.'My wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot&lt;br /&gt;25-year-old gal, and she would make sure that I would once again be living &lt;br /&gt;in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car, sleeping on a sofa bed and watching&lt;br /&gt;a 10-inch black and white TV.Aren't older women great? They really know how to solve a mid-life crisis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8880602033270278384?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8880602033270278384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8880602033270278384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8880602033270278384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8880602033270278384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/logical-wife.html' title='THE LOGICAL WIFE'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2378152042355748002</id><published>2009-04-06T08:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:07:30.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll for get</title><content type='html'>An elderly couple is getting ready for bed. She says Oh I am just so hungry for ice cream and there isn't any in the house." He says, “I’ll go get some." She says, "Vanilla with chocolate sauce, with whipped cream on top and a cherry." She adds, "Please write it down, I know you'll forget." He says, “I won't forget; Vanilla with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a cherry."Away he goes. Hours later he comes back and hands her a paper bag. "In it is a "HAM SANDWICH". She says,” I told you to write it down! You forgot the mustard."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2378152042355748002?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2378152042355748002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2378152042355748002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2378152042355748002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2378152042355748002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/youll-for-get.html' title='You&apos;ll for get'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2476688092349354975</id><published>2009-04-06T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:05:01.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cough</title><content type='html'>Nurse: Good morning Mr. Smith, you seem to be coughing much more easily this morning.Mr. Smith: That’s because I’ve been practicing all night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2476688092349354975?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2476688092349354975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2476688092349354975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2476688092349354975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2476688092349354975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/cough.html' title='The Cough'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8002314578208067799</id><published>2009-04-06T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T08:04:12.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get out of the Car!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdoZuAYBR8I/AAAAAAAANxs/vD0WEAUbhjA/s1600-h/car.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321594187857086402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 525px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 344px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdoZuAYBR8I/AAAAAAAANxs/vD0WEAUbhjA/s400/car.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8002314578208067799?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8002314578208067799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8002314578208067799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8002314578208067799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8002314578208067799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/get-out-of-car.html' title='Get out of the Car!!!'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdoZuAYBR8I/AAAAAAAANxs/vD0WEAUbhjA/s72-c/car.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-185677938296814895</id><published>2009-04-03T08:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:22:52.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the organist</title><content type='html'>There was this small church down in Texas that had a verybig-busted organist. Her breasts were so huge that they bounced andjiggled while she played the organ. Unfortunately, she distracted thecongregation considerably. The very proper church ladies were appalled. They said something had to be done about this or they would have to get another organist. So, one of the ladies approached her very discreetly and told her to mash up some green Persimmons and rub them on the nipples of her breasts and maybe they would shrink in size, but warned her to not eat any of the green Persimmons, though, 'because they are so sour they will make your mouth pucker up and you won't be able to talk properly for a while'. She agreed to try it. The following Sunday morning the minister got up in the pulpit and said.... 'Dew to thircumsthanthis bewond my contwol, we will not hath a thermon tewday..&lt;br /&gt;Submitted by a Jerry Bilkre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-185677938296814895?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/185677938296814895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=185677938296814895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/185677938296814895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/185677938296814895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/organist.html' title='the organist'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3951023536919743232</id><published>2009-04-03T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:22:23.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The blind man</title><content type='html'>A blind man wanders into an all-girls biker bar by mistake. He finds his way to a bar stool and orders some coffee. After sitting there for awhile, he yells to the waiter, "Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?"The bar immediately falls absolutely silent . In a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, sir, I think it is only fair -- given that you are blind -- that you should know five things":1. The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.2. The bouncer is a blonde girl.3. I'm a 6 foot tall, 175 lb. blonde woman with a black belt in karate. 4. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weightlifter.5. The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler."Now, think about it seriously, Mister. Do you still wanna tell that joke?"The blind man thinks for a second, shakes his head, and muttered "No... Not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3951023536919743232?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3951023536919743232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3951023536919743232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3951023536919743232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3951023536919743232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/blind-man.html' title='The blind man'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2043528532403702427</id><published>2009-04-03T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:17:56.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What holiday for single guys?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q - If Moms have Mother's Day and Dads have Father's Day, what do single guys have?A - Palm Sunday &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYohGA5s9I/AAAAAAAANYE/Oh_yld3cHGg/s1600-h/two+eyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320484558800008146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 72px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYohGA5s9I/AAAAAAAANYE/Oh_yld3cHGg/s400/two+eyes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2043528532403702427?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2043528532403702427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2043528532403702427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2043528532403702427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2043528532403702427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-holiday-for-single-guys.html' title='What holiday for single guys?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYohGA5s9I/AAAAAAAANYE/Oh_yld3cHGg/s72-c/two+eyes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6689880782081478990</id><published>2009-04-03T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:12:08.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>two elderly friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYnON1g6AI/AAAAAAAANX8/jFhONR3MMTo/s1600-h/two+elderly+friends.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320483134970587138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYnON1g6AI/AAAAAAAANX8/jFhONR3MMTo/s400/two+elderly+friends.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob and Tom, two elderly friends, met in the park every day to feed the pigeons, watch the squirrels and discuss world problems. One day Bob didn't show up. Tom didn't think much about it and figured maybe he had a cold or something. But after Bob hadn't shown up for a week or so, Tom really got worried. However, since the only time they ever got together was at the park, Tom didn't know exactly where Bob lived, so he was unable to find out what had happened to him. A month had passed, and Tom figured he had seen the last of Bob, but one day, Tom approached the park and -- lo and behold! --there sat Bob! Tom was very excited and happy to see him and told him so.. Then he said, "For crying out loud Bob, what in the world happened to you?"Bob replied, "I've been in jail.""Jail?" cried Tom. "What in the world for?""Well," Bob said, "You know kristi, that cute little blonde waitress at the coffee shop where I sometimes go?" "Yeah," said Tom, "I remember her. What about her?""Well, one day she filed rape charges against me, and at 89 years old, I was so proud that when I got into court, I pled 'guilty'.""The damn judge gave me 30 days for perjury.'"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6689880782081478990?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6689880782081478990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6689880782081478990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6689880782081478990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6689880782081478990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/two-elderly-friends.html' title='two elderly friends'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYnON1g6AI/AAAAAAAANX8/jFhONR3MMTo/s72-c/two+elderly+friends.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3089602845073084518</id><published>2009-04-03T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T08:05:36.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Careful On The Bus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYlrx55TsI/AAAAAAAANX0/DebEN859GhQ/s1600-h/ipod-headphones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320481443845590722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYlrx55TsI/AAAAAAAANX0/DebEN859GhQ/s400/ipod-headphones.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are on the bus when you suddenly realize... you need to break wind! The music is really loud, so you time your farts with the beat. After a couple of songs, you start to feel better as you approach your stop. As you are leaving the bus, people are really staring you down, and that's when you realize, you have been listening to your Ipod.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3089602845073084518?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3089602845073084518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3089602845073084518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3089602845073084518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3089602845073084518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/04/be-careful-on-bus.html' title='Be Careful On The Bus'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SdYlrx55TsI/AAAAAAAANX0/DebEN859GhQ/s72-c/ipod-headphones.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-620821354605120753</id><published>2009-03-19T09:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:09:37.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Newsboy</title><content type='html'>A newsboy was standing on the corner with a stack of papers, yelling, "Read all about it; Fifty people swindled!” Fifty people swindled! Curios, a man walked over, bought a paper, and said, "Hey kid, this is an old paper, where’s the story about the big swindle?” The newsboy ignored him and went on calling out, "read all about it; Fifty-one people swindled!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-620821354605120753?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/620821354605120753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=620821354605120753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/620821354605120753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/620821354605120753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/newsboy.html' title='The Newsboy'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1327655564694451261</id><published>2009-03-19T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:08:19.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dunn joke</title><content type='html'>Harry Dunn lived with his mother in Ireland and was always bugging her to let him go the U.S.A. Finally she said he could go if he promised to write her every week to let her know how he was doing, He said he would , so off he went down to the docks.Well she received letters each week telling her how he arrived in New York, how he had found an apartment, found a job, and had met Betty the girl in the office. He said he was so happy and that he and Betty were getting married. They had moved to Connecticut in a lovely little white house, and Betty was pregnant. Then the letters stopped.....She was so worried she didn’t know what to do. She heard that one of the local lads was going over and she made her way to the pier. She found him and asked him if he knew her son Harry Dunn, he said he did not. She told him what had happened and asks him to look up Harry and tell him to write. He promised her he would at any cost.Upon arriving in N.Y. he hailed a taxi, and told the cabby to take him to Connecticut (not realizing how big the USA was.) The cabby said that is quite a ways from here and quite costly. No problem I have to deliver a message for an old lady in Ireland. “Do you know Harry Dunn? He asked the cabby. “No I don’t think so” the cabby replied. The lad told the cabby that he lived in a little white house in Connecticut. So the cabby said when we get over the line I will pull into a station and you can ask the attendant if he knows you friend Harry Dunn.So when they crossed over into Connecticut the cabby pulled into a little country service station. The boy jumped out as the attendant was coming to the car. The boy asked the attendant if he knew Harry Dunn and he said no. Where is the little white house? The attendant pointed and said right behind the station down that path, so the boy trotted down the path to the little white house (Privy-john)He jerked the door open and there stood a man zipping up his pants “Are you Dunn?” asked the lad. Yes I’m done replied the man. “I have a message for you.” ‘What is the message” asked the man. “Write to your mother, she is worried sick over you.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1327655564694451261?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1327655564694451261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1327655564694451261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1327655564694451261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1327655564694451261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/dunn-joke.html' title='The Dunn joke'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1750556901082928463</id><published>2009-03-19T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:03:19.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three sisters</title><content type='html'>Three sisters, ages 92, 94, and 96, live together. One night the 96-year-0ld draws a bath. She puts one foot in and pauses. "Was I getting in the tub or out?" she yells. The 94-year-old hollers back, "I don't know, I'll come up to see." She starts up the stairs and stops. She shouts, "Was I going up or going down?"The 92-year-old is sitting at the kitchen table having tea, listening to her sisters. She shakes her head and says, "I sure hope I never get that forgetful", and knocks on wood for good measure. Then she yells, "I'll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who's at the door."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1750556901082928463?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1750556901082928463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1750556901082928463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1750556901082928463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1750556901082928463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/three-sisters.html' title='Three sisters'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5401561628657059564</id><published>2009-03-19T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:00:07.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy don't wear that suit...</title><content type='html'>A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. As her dad donned his tuxedo she warned, “Daddy, you shouldn’t wear that suit.” “And why not, darling?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know that it always gives you a headache the next morning.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5401561628657059564?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5401561628657059564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5401561628657059564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5401561628657059564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5401561628657059564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/daddy-dont-wear-that-suit.html' title='Daddy don&apos;t wear that suit...'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-9070423485170710128</id><published>2009-03-19T08:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T08:58:29.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband joke</title><content type='html'>Did you here about the man who divorced his wife for using four letter words??? Find Work!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-9070423485170710128?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/9070423485170710128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=9070423485170710128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9070423485170710128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9070423485170710128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/husband-joke.html' title='Husband joke'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-874181990185231264</id><published>2009-03-19T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T08:56:05.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats the difference?</title><content type='html'>What's the difference between a flea-bitten dog and a bored visitor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One's going to itch; the other's itching to go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-874181990185231264?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/874181990185231264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=874181990185231264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/874181990185231264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/874181990185231264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/whats-difference.html' title='Whats the difference?'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6740162690545080539</id><published>2009-03-19T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T08:54:21.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Joke of questions</title><content type='html'>Q: What do dolphins and men have in common?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: They say that they're intelligent but no one's been able to prove that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6740162690545080539?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6740162690545080539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6740162690545080539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6740162690545080539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6740162690545080539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/joke-of-questions.html' title='A Joke of questions'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5179725895030667471</id><published>2009-03-18T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T10:26:16.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Will Sylvince</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fUW-ZwKd8XQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fUW-ZwKd8XQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5179725895030667471?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5179725895030667471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5179725895030667471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5179725895030667471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5179725895030667471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/will-sylvince.html' title='Will Sylvince'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-475933240006101695</id><published>2009-03-13T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T10:39:31.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grand Ma goes to jail</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SbqaIjM4svI/AAAAAAAAME0/eaZadQuLdNo/s1600-h/grandma+goes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312728182115840754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 430px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SbqaIjM4svI/AAAAAAAAME0/eaZadQuLdNo/s400/grandma+goes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-475933240006101695?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/475933240006101695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=475933240006101695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/475933240006101695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/475933240006101695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/grand-ma-goes-to-jail.html' title='Grand Ma goes to jail'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SbqaIjM4svI/AAAAAAAAME0/eaZadQuLdNo/s72-c/grandma+goes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8478606039738751872</id><published>2009-03-10T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:10:48.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I die</title><content type='html'>There once was an old man who was about to die. He told his wife to put a bag of money in the attic "When I die I'll get it on my way up." chuckled the old man. Well when the old man died the wife went up to the attic and found that the bag of money was still there. "I knew I should have put that money in the cellar!" said the old woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8478606039738751872?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8478606039738751872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8478606039738751872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8478606039738751872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8478606039738751872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-i-die.html' title='When I die'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-708903967907403209</id><published>2009-02-04T11:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:57:58.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disorder in the Court</title><content type='html'>These are from a book called Disorder in the Court, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters - who had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is your date of birth? A: July 15th. Q: What year? A: Every year. Q: How old is your son, the one living with you? A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which. Q: How long has he lived with you? A: Forty-five years. _________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that morning? A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?" Q: And why did that upset you? A: My name is Susan. _________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How was your first marriage terminated? A: By death.__________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney? A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work. __________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse? A: No. Q: Did you check for blood pressure? A: No. Q: Did you check for breathing? A: No. Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy? A: No. Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor? A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar. Q: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless? A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-708903967907403209?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/708903967907403209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=708903967907403209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/708903967907403209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/708903967907403209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/02/disorder-in-court.html' title='Disorder in the Court'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7313241167692061264</id><published>2009-02-04T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:51:01.201-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken Little</title><content type='html'>One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, ".... and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!" The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that farmer said?"One little girl raised her hand and said, "I think he said: 'Holy Mackerel! A talking chicken!'" The teacher was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7313241167692061264?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7313241167692061264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7313241167692061264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7313241167692061264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7313241167692061264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/02/chicken-little.html' title='Chicken Little'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-9058816736330322956</id><published>2009-02-04T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:44:08.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some people are "Tater People"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnv8tzjUhI/AAAAAAAAH1o/Grb0xmng_Yo/s1600-h/5+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299030262945108498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 469px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnv8tzjUhI/AAAAAAAAH1o/Grb0xmng_Yo/s400/5+t.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnvEfR5rzI/AAAAAAAAH1g/l-v5m5pklpY/s1600-h/5+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnu9xPnqSI/AAAAAAAAH1Y/wnfZ-hy5sFs/s1600-h/4+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299029181536381218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 468px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnu9xPnqSI/AAAAAAAAH1Y/wnfZ-hy5sFs/s400/4+t.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuye4hAOI/AAAAAAAAH1Q/IcAQ7pthmf4/s1600-h/3+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299028987629076706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 466px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 326px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuye4hAOI/AAAAAAAAH1Q/IcAQ7pthmf4/s400/3+t.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuq6eo7VI/AAAAAAAAH1I/GThss9sn6YY/s1600-h/2+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299028857597783378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 469px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuq6eo7VI/AAAAAAAAH1I/GThss9sn6YY/s400/2+t.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuj6xbg4I/AAAAAAAAH1A/vWFVTREqn7E/s1600-h/1+t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299028737417511810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 466px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 346px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnuj6xbg4I/AAAAAAAAH1A/vWFVTREqn7E/s400/1+t.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-9058816736330322956?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/9058816736330322956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=9058816736330322956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9058816736330322956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9058816736330322956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/02/some-people-are-tater-people.html' title='Some people are &quot;Tater People&quot;'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SYnv8tzjUhI/AAAAAAAAH1o/Grb0xmng_Yo/s72-c/5+t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3905817673967565131</id><published>2009-02-02T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T19:42:41.157-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I made a mistake, send him back</title><content type='html'>An engineer dies and reports to the pearly gates. St. Peter checks his dossier and says, "Ah, you're an engineer — you're in the wrong place." So the engineer reports to the gates of hell and is let in. Pretty soon, the engineer gets dissatisfied with the level of comfort in hell, and starts designing and building improvements. After a while, they've got air conditioning, flush toilets and escalators, and the engineer is becoming a pretty popular guy. One day God calls Satan up on the telephone and asks with a sneer, "So, how's it going down there in hell?" Satan replies, "Hey, things are going great. We've got air conditioning, flush toilets and escalators, and there's no telling what this engineer is going to come up with next." God replies, "What??? You've got an engineer? That's a mistake — he should never have gotten down there; send him up here." Satan says, "No way! I like having an engineer on the staff, and I'm keeping him." God says, "Send him back up here or I'll sue." Satan laughs uproariously and answers, "Yeah right. And just where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3905817673967565131?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3905817673967565131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3905817673967565131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3905817673967565131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3905817673967565131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-made-mistake-send-him-back.html' title='I made a mistake, send him back'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8844144247063141258</id><published>2009-01-15T12:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:39:17.732-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossing the river</title><content type='html'>Three men wanted to cross a river. They had no idea how to cross it, so one man knelt down on his knees and prayed "Lord give me the power and strength the cross the river." suddenly the man became very strong and swam across the river. The next man thought: if it worked for him, it'll work for me. So he knelt down and prayed "Lord give the skills and the strength to cross the river." the man built a canoe and rowed himself across the river. The last man thought: if it worked for both of them, I know it'll work for me. So he also knelt down and prayed "Lord give me the wisdom and knowledge to cross the river." He turned into a woman and walked across the bridge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8844144247063141258?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8844144247063141258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8844144247063141258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8844144247063141258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8844144247063141258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/crossing-river.html' title='Crossing the river'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6005010172725728124</id><published>2009-01-14T12:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T12:47:05.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MY FIVE BOYFRIENDS!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;MY FIVE BOYFRIENDS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5PBIk0xQI/AAAAAAAAGto/ZR7CcF6pNd8/s1600-h/chair"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291253493107311874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5PBIk0xQI/AAAAAAAAGto/ZR7CcF6pNd8/s400/chair" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5Ouwj6blI/AAAAAAAAGtg/NEL3bsC5Dd0/s1600-h/chair"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am seeing 5 gentlemen every day.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I wake up,&lt;br /&gt;Will Power helps me get out of bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5Odz9o2nI/AAAAAAAAGtY/BoFDYH2bmOo/s1600-h/bed"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291252886278822514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 394px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5Odz9o2nI/AAAAAAAAGtY/BoFDYH2bmOo/s400/bed" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I go to see John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5OKnOJtPI/AAAAAAAAGtQ/R4BascGpFIs/s1600-h/john"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291252556440909042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 80px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 80px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5OKnOJtPI/AAAAAAAAGtQ/R4BascGpFIs/s400/john" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Charlie Horse comes along,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; when he is here, he takes a lot of my time &amp;amp; attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5N5TGUjsI/AAAAAAAAGtI/8TDmujTv9BA/s1600-h/old+lady+smoking"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291252258981580482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5N5TGUjsI/AAAAAAAAGtI/8TDmujTv9BA/s400/old+lady+smoking" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he leaves,&lt;br /&gt;Arthur Ritis&lt;br /&gt;shows up &amp;amp; stays the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't like to stay in one place very long,&lt;br /&gt;so he takes me from joint to joint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5Nrp9RiTI/AAAAAAAAGtA/ewc-gQT7nE0/s1600-h/old+lady+sitting"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291252024599480626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5Nrp9RiTI/AAAAAAAAGtA/ewc-gQT7nE0/s400/old+lady+sitting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After such a busy day, I'm really tired &amp;amp; glad&lt;br /&gt;to go to bed With Ben Gay.&lt;br /&gt;What a life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yes, I'm also flirting with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al Zymer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5NZ7bAXRI/AAAAAAAAGs4/0QROMJcsQuY/s1600-h/old+lady"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291251720049941778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5NZ7bAXRI/AAAAAAAAGs4/0QROMJcsQuY/s400/old+lady" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and thinking of calling JACK DANIELS orJOHNNY WALKER to come and keep me company. Now remember:Life is like a roll of toilet paper...the closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes...So have fun, think 'good thoughts' only, learn to laugh at yourself, and Count your blessings!!!!!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6005010172725728124?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6005010172725728124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6005010172725728124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6005010172725728124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6005010172725728124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-five-boyfriends.html' title='MY FIVE BOYFRIENDS!!!'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SW5PBIk0xQI/AAAAAAAAGto/ZR7CcF6pNd8/s72-c/chair' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3462438209206587621</id><published>2009-01-14T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T12:34:48.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven and Hell you choose</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Heaven and Hell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day while walking down the street a highly successful HR Directorwas tragically hit by a bus and she died. Her soul arrived up in heavenwhere she was met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself."Welcome to Heaven," said St. Peter. "Before you get settled in though,it seems we have a problem. You see, strangely enough, we've never oncehad a Human Resources Director make it this far and we're not reallysure what to do with you.""No problem, just let me in," said the woman. "Well, I'd like to,"replied St. Peter, "but I have higher orders. What we're going to do islet you have a day in Hell and a day in Heaven and then you can choosewhichever one you want to spend an eternity in.""Actually, I think I've made up my mind, I prefer to stay in Heaven,"said the woman."Sorry, we have rules..." And with that St. Peter put the executive inan elevator and it went down-down-down to hell. The doors opened and shefound herself stepping out onto the putting green of a beautiful golfcourse. In the distance was a country club and standing in front of herwere all her friends - fellow executives that she had worked with andthey were all dressed in evening gowns and cheering for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They ran upand kissed her on both cheeks and they talked about old times. Theyplayed an excellent round of golf and at night went to the country clubwhere she enjoyed an excellent steak and lobster dinner. She met theDevil who was actually a really nice guy (kinda cute) and she had agreat time telling jokes and dancing. She was having such a good timethat before she knew it, it was time to leave. Everybody shook her handand waved good-bye as she got on the elevator. The elevator wentup-up-up and opened back up at the Pearly Gates and she found St. Peterwaiting for her."Now it's time to spend a day in heaven," he said. So she spent the next24 hours lounging around on clouds and playing the harp and singing. Shehad a great time and before she knew it her 24 hours were up and St.Peter came and got her. "So, you've spent a day in hell and you've spenta day in heaven. Now you must choose your eternity," he said. The womanpaused for a second and then replied,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I never thought I'd saythis, I mean, Heaven has been really great and all, but I think I had abetter time in Hell." So St. Peter escorted her to the elevator andagain she went down-down-down back to Hell.When the doors of the elevator opened she found herself standing in adesolate wasteland covered in garbage and filth. She saw her friendswere dressed in rags and were picking up the garbage and putting it insacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Devil came up to her and put his arm around her."I don't understand," stammered the woman, "yesterday I was here andthere was a golf course and a country club and we ate lobster and wedanced and had a great time. Now all there is, is a wasteland of garbageand all my friends look miserable."The Devil looked at her and smiled. "Yesterday we were recruiting you,today you're staff..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3462438209206587621?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3462438209206587621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3462438209206587621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3462438209206587621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3462438209206587621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/heaven-and-hell-you-choose.html' title='Heaven and Hell you choose'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8636395092634294185</id><published>2009-01-12T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T12:06:49.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Men Vs. Women Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SWuiy9fEwRI/AAAAAAAAGog/lnp3kmJtJnY/s1600-h/Personal_Computer_Desktop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290501183658836242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 360px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SWuiy9fEwRI/AAAAAAAAGog/lnp3kmJtJnY/s400/Personal_Computer_Desktop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine."House" for instance, is feminine: "la casa.""Pencil," however, is masculine: "el lapiz."A student asked, "What gender is 'computer'?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decide for themselves whether "computer" should be a masculine or a feminine noun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each group was asked to give four reasons for its recommendation.The men's group decided that "computer" should definitely be of the feminine gender ("la computadora") because:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later retrieval; and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.(THIS GETS BETTER!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be masculine ("el computador") because:1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on.2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves.3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time, they ARE the problem; and4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.The women won.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8636395092634294185?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8636395092634294185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8636395092634294185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8636395092634294185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8636395092634294185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/men-vs-women-jokes.html' title='Men Vs. Women Jokes'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SWuiy9fEwRI/AAAAAAAAGog/lnp3kmJtJnY/s72-c/Personal_Computer_Desktop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2167591587579852544</id><published>2009-01-12T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T11:00:54.584-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Gift</title><content type='html'>A cop was on his horse waiting to cross the street, when a little girl on her new shiny bike stopped beside him.&lt;br /&gt;"Nice bike, the cop said. "Did Santa bring it to you?'"Yes Sir, the little girl said, he sure did."The cop looked the bike over and handed the girl a $5 ticketfor a safety violation. The cop said, "Next year, tell Santa to put a reflector light onthe back of it."The young girl looked up at the cop and said, "Nice horseyou've got there Sir. Did Santa bring it to you?"Playing along with the girl, he chuckled and answered,  "Yes, he sure did." The little girl looked up at the cop and said, "Next year tell Santa, The dick goes underneath the horse, not on top."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2167591587579852544?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2167591587579852544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2167591587579852544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2167591587579852544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2167591587579852544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/christmas-gift.html' title='Christmas Gift'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7368953285788766959</id><published>2009-01-12T10:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T10:57:22.722-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Honey I hit the Lottery</title><content type='html'>A man gets home, runs into his house, slams the door and shouts, "Honey, I just won the lottery! Pack your bags!"The wife says, "Great! What should I pack for? The ocean or the mountains?"He says, "I don't care! Just be out by the end of the week!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7368953285788766959?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7368953285788766959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7368953285788766959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7368953285788766959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7368953285788766959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/honey-i-hit-lottery.html' title='Honey I hit the Lottery'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5139176448009817078</id><published>2009-01-01T10:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:48:26.478-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk Man</title><content type='html'>A man walks out of a bar totally hammered, only to be greeted by a snobby woman. She takes one look at him. “You, sir, are drunk!" "And you ma'am, are ugly. But when I wake up, I will be sober!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5139176448009817078?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5139176448009817078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5139176448009817078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5139176448009817078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5139176448009817078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/drunk-man.html' title='Drunk Man'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3943894691835004934</id><published>2009-01-01T10:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:47:38.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Turtle humor</title><content type='html'>A turtle was walking through the park when two snails attacked, punched, kicked, and stole his wallet. The police arrived and asked, “What happen to you, were you attacked, were you robbed?” The turtle on his back, bruised, with one eye shut, said "I don't know officer, it happen so Fast"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3943894691835004934?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3943894691835004934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3943894691835004934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3943894691835004934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3943894691835004934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/turtle-humor.html' title='Turtle humor'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7103094310646086727</id><published>2009-01-01T10:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:44:35.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick pocket</title><content type='html'>A pick pocket was pronounced guilty and sentenced to 8 months jail term with an option of $200 fine by the judge. His defense lawyer knowing that his client could not pay the fine, pleaded with the judge asking; “Your honor, my client can only afford $50, but if you allow him a few minutes in the crowd …&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7103094310646086727?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7103094310646086727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7103094310646086727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7103094310646086727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7103094310646086727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/pick-pocket_01.html' title='Pick pocket'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4382023689639564831</id><published>2009-01-01T10:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:44:34.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick pocket</title><content type='html'>A pick pocket was pronounced guilty and sentenced to 8 months jail term with an option of $200 fine by the judge. His defense lawyer knowing that his client could not pay the fine, pleaded with the judge asking; “Your honor, my client can only afford $50, but if you allow him a few minutes in the crowd …&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4382023689639564831?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4382023689639564831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4382023689639564831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4382023689639564831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4382023689639564831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2009/01/pick-pocket.html' title='Pick pocket'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4556678905269343451</id><published>2008-12-23T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T14:50:07.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a little black girl</title><content type='html'>A stranger was seated next to a little black girl on the airplane when the stranger turned to her and said, "Let's talk. I've heard that flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger."  The little girl, who had just opened her coloring book, closed it slowly and said to the stranger, "What would you like to talk about?"   "Oh, I don't know," said the stranger. "Since you are a Negro, do you think that So-called President Elect Barak Obama is qualified for the job?" and he smiles.  "OK", she said. 'That could be an interesting topic. But let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff - grass -. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, and a horse produces clumps of dried grass.  Why do you suppose that is?"  The stranger, visibly surprised by the little girl's intelligence, thinks about it and says, "Hmmm, I have no idea."  To which the little girl replies, "Do you really feel qualified to discuss President Barak Obama... when you don't know shit?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4556678905269343451?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4556678905269343451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4556678905269343451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4556678905269343451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4556678905269343451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/little-black-girl.html' title='a little black girl'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7493709821789623097</id><published>2008-12-22T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T15:00:05.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bush Joke</title><content type='html'>After numerous rounds of 'We don't even know if Osama bin Laden is still alive', Osama himself decided to send George Bush a letter in his own hand writing to let him know he was still in the  game.Bush opened the letter and it contained a single line of coded message:  370H-SSV-0773H Bush was baffled, so he e-mailed it to Condoleezza Rice. Condi and her=2 0aides  had not a clue either, so they sent it to the FBI.No one could  solve it at the FBI so it went to the CIA, and then to  MI6.Eventually they asked the Mossad (Israeli intelligence) for help.Within a  minute  Mossad emailed the White House with this  reply:'Tell the President he's holding the note upside down'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7493709821789623097?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7493709821789623097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7493709821789623097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7493709821789623097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7493709821789623097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/bush-joke.html' title='Bush Joke'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4782700872613078730</id><published>2008-12-18T15:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T15:13:35.968-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Speeding</title><content type='html'>A man was pulled over for speeding down the highway; the officer came to the driver’s window and said, "Sir, may I see your driver’s license and registration?" The man said, "Well officer I don't have a license, it was taken away for a DUI." The officer, in surprise, said," What, do you have a registration for the vehicle?" So the man replied, "No sir, the car is not mine I stole it, but I am pretty sure I say a registration card in the glove box when I put the gun in it." The officer stepped back, "There is a gun in the glove box?!?" The man sighed and said, "Yes sir, I used to kill the woman who owns the car before I stuffed her in the trunk." The officer steps toward the back of the car and says," Sir do not move, I am calling for backup." The officer calls for backup and about ten minutes another highway patrolman arrives. He walks up to the window slowly and asks the man for his driver’s license and registration. The man said," Yes officer here it right here." It all checked out so the officer said," Is there a gun in the glove box sir?" The man laughs and says," No officer why would there be a gun in the glove box." He opened the glove box and showed him that there was no gun. The second officer asked him to open the trunk because he had reason to believe that there was a body in it. The man agrees and opens the trunk, no dead body. The second officer says, "Sir I do not understand, the officer that pulled you over said that you did not have a license, the car was stolen, there was a gun in the glove box, and a dead body in the trunk." The man looks the officer in the eyes and says, "Yeah and I'll bet he said I was speeding too."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4782700872613078730?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4782700872613078730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4782700872613078730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4782700872613078730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4782700872613078730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/speeding.html' title='Speeding'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3548838133730128781</id><published>2008-12-17T10:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T10:53:17.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kid</title><content type='html'>The boss of a big company needed to call one of his employees about an urgent problem with one of the main computers. He dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whispered, "Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling put out at the inconvenience of having to talk to a youngster the boss asked, "Is your Daddy home?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," whispered the small voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with him?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the surprise of the boss, the small voice whispered, "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes", came the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with her?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the small voice whispered, "No".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that it was not likely that a young child would be left home alone, the boss decided he would just leave a message with the person who should be there watching over the child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there anyone there besides you?" the boss asked the child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" whispered the child, "A policeman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he's busy," whispered the child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Busy doing what?" asked the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the fireman," came the whispered answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing concerned and even worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the ear piece on the phone the boss asked, "What is that noise?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A hello-copper," answered the whispering voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is going on there?" asked the boss, now alarmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an awed whispering voice the child answered, "The search team just landed the hello-copper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alarmed, concerned and more than just a little frustrated, the boss asked, "Why are they there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still whispering, the young voice replied along with a muffled giggle, "They're looking for me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3548838133730128781?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3548838133730128781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3548838133730128781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3548838133730128781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3548838133730128781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/kid.html' title='The Kid'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8621507719149575871</id><published>2008-12-16T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T10:57:04.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5-year-</title><content type='html'>5-year-old boy went to visit his grandmother one day. Playing with his toys in her bedroom while grandma was dusting, he looked up and said, 'Grandma, how come you don't have a boyfriend now that Grandpa went to heaven?'&lt;br /&gt;Grandma replied, 'Honey, my TV is my boyfriend. I can sit in my bedroom and watch it all day long. The religious programs make me feel good and the comedies make me laugh. I'm happy with my TV as my boyfriend.'&lt;br /&gt;Grandma turned on the TV, and the reception was terrible. She started adjusting the knobs, trying to get the picture in focus. Frustrated, she started hitting the backside of the TV hoping to fix the problem.&lt;br /&gt;The little boy heard the doorbell ring, so he hurried to open the door and there stood Grandma's minister. The minister said, 'Hello son, is your Grandma home?'&lt;br /&gt;The little boy replied, 'Yeah, she 's in the bedroom bangin' her boyfriend.'&lt;br /&gt;The minister fainted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8621507719149575871?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8621507719149575871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8621507719149575871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8621507719149575871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8621507719149575871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/5-year.html' title='5-year-'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3138895435438712491</id><published>2008-12-12T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T12:25:18.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welfare check</title><content type='html'>A guy walked into the local welfare office to pick up his check. He marched straight up to the counter and said, 'Hi. You know, I just HATEdrawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job.' The social worker behind the counter said, 'Your timing is excellent!'We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants achauffeur and bodyguard for his beautiful daughter. You'll have to drivearound in his Mercedes, and he'll supply all of your clothes. Because ofthe long hours, meals will be provided. You'll be expected to escort thedaughter on her overseas holiday trips and you will have to satisfy her every need. You'll be provided a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. The salary is $200,000 a year.' The guy, wide-eyed, said, 'You're lying!!!' The social worker said, 'Yeah, well . . . you started it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3138895435438712491?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3138895435438712491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3138895435438712491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3138895435438712491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3138895435438712491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/welfare-check.html' title='Welfare check'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1002620234950659840</id><published>2008-12-12T08:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T08:18:36.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>poor speller</title><content type='html'>Officer Smith, not the brightest cop on the force and a incredibly poor speller, is dispatched to a bad traffic accident. He gets out of his car, and examines the scene. He then takes out his notebook and makes the notation " Vehicle One is in the ditch; D-I-T-C-H."He then makes a second notation "Vehicle Two is in the ditch; D-I-T-C-H." After checking further, he makes another notation in his notebook; "Headless body in ditch; D-I-T-C-H." He then walks to the center of the highway, and writes in his notebook "Head in rode; R-O-D-E", then crosses out the incorrectly spelled word, and tries again "raod; R-A-O-D". Realizing that is also spelled wrong, he crosses out that word, looks all around the area, and finding that noone is in sight, kicks the head to the side of the road, and writes in his notebook "Head in ditch; D-I-T-C-H."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1002620234950659840?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1002620234950659840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1002620234950659840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1002620234950659840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1002620234950659840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/poor-speller.html' title='poor speller'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6521841101612284000</id><published>2008-12-11T22:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T22:29:48.994-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Razor Bad boys of Comedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_5hQ_x9eDPA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_5hQ_x9eDPA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6521841101612284000?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6521841101612284000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6521841101612284000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6521841101612284000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6521841101612284000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/razor-bad-boys-of-comedy.html' title='Razor Bad boys of Comedy'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5362936278443810775</id><published>2008-12-11T21:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T21:59:51.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Man</title><content type='html'>An elderly gent was invited to an old friends home for dinner one evening. He was impressed by the way his buddy preceded every request to his wife with endearing Terms such as: Honey, My Love, Darling, Sweetheart, Pumpkin, etc. The couple had been married almost 70 years and, clearly, they were still very much in love. &lt;br /&gt;While the wife was in the kitchen , the man leaned over to his host, 'I think it's wonderful that, after all these years, you still call your wife those loving pet names''s. The old man hung his head. 'I have to tell you the truth,' he said, 'Her name slipped my mind about 10 years ago and I'm scared to death to ask the old bitch what it is?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5362936278443810775?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5362936278443810775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5362936278443810775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5362936278443810775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5362936278443810775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/old-man.html' title='Old Man'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-8351629946744495755</id><published>2008-12-10T08:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T08:07:05.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to heaven</title><content type='html'>A forester and a lawyer were in car accident and showed up at the pearly gates together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter greets them at the pearly gates and takes them to the homes where they will spend all of eternity. They get into St. Peter's holy vehicle and head on down a gold road, which turns into a platinum road, which turns onto an even grander road paved with diamonds, to a huge mansion where St. Peter turns to the lawyer and says, here is your home for the rest of eternity, enjoy! And if there is anything you need, just let me know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then St. Peter took the forester to his home, back down the diamond studded boulevard, down the platinum highway, down the street of gold, down an avenue of silver, along a stone alley and down an unpaved footpath to a shack. St Peter says, "Here you go" and goes to leave when the forester says "Wait minute! How come the lawyer gets the big mansion and I get this shack?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter says: "Well, Foresters are a dime a dozen here, we have never had a lawyer before."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-8351629946744495755?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/8351629946744495755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=8351629946744495755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8351629946744495755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/8351629946744495755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/going-to-heaven.html' title='Going to heaven'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-310286804039540381</id><published>2008-12-09T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T10:01:04.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work humor</title><content type='html'>How long have you been working here?” one employee asked to another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ever since the boss threatened to fire me.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-310286804039540381?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/310286804039540381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=310286804039540381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/310286804039540381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/310286804039540381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/work-humor.html' title='Work humor'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6341571893547040645</id><published>2008-12-08T09:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T09:31:49.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man to man</title><content type='html'>One guy to another, “Last week I took the first step towards getting divorced.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you see a lawyer?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, I got married.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6341571893547040645?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6341571893547040645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6341571893547040645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6341571893547040645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6341571893547040645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/man-to-man.html' title='Man to man'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7651186696430435559</id><published>2008-12-06T09:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T09:38:24.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The hotel</title><content type='html'>A husband and wife are travelling by car from Key West to Boston .&lt;br /&gt;After almost twenty-four hours on the road, they're too tired to continue and they decide to stop for a rest. They stop at a nice hotel and take a room, but they only plan to sleep for four hours and then get back on the road.&lt;br /&gt;When they check out four hours later, the desk clerk; hands them a bill for $350.00. The man explodes and demands to know why the charge is so high. He tells the clerk although it's a nice hotel; the rooms certainly aren't worth $350.00&lt;br /&gt;When the clerk tells him $350.00 is the standard rate, the man insists on speaking to the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;The Manager appears, listens to the man, and then explains that the hotel has an Olympic-sized pool and a huge conference center that were available for the husband and wife to use.&lt;br /&gt;'But we didn't use them,' the man complains. 'Well, they are here, and you could have,' explains the Manager. He goes on to explain they could have taken in one of the shows for which the hotel is famous. 'The best entertainers from New York , Hollywood , and Las Vegas perform here,' the Manager says.&lt;br /&gt;'But we didn't go to any of those shows,' complains the man again.&lt;br /&gt;'Well, we have them, and you could have,' the Manager replies. No matter what amenity the Manager mentions, the man replies,'But we didn't use it!'&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is unmoved, and eventually the man gives up and agrees to pay.&lt;br /&gt;He writes a check and gives it to the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is surprised when he looks at the check. 'But sir,' he says, 'this check is only made out for $50.00.'&lt;br /&gt;'That's correct,' says the man. 'I charged you $300.00 for sleeping with my wife'&lt;br /&gt;'But I didn't!' exclaims the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;'Well, too bad,' the man replies. 'She was here and you could have.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7651186696430435559?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7651186696430435559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7651186696430435559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7651186696430435559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7651186696430435559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/hotel.html' title='The hotel'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5612920903930945183</id><published>2008-12-06T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T09:12:22.328-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the</title><content type='html'>1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they &lt;br /&gt;carried us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored &lt;br /&gt;lead-based paints. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we &lt;br /&gt;rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took &lt;br /&gt;hitchhiking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE &lt;br /&gt;actually died from this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but &lt;br /&gt;we weren't overweight because &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back &lt;br /&gt;when the streetlights came on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down &lt;br /&gt;the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the &lt;br /&gt;bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no &lt;br /&gt;99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell &lt;br /&gt;phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat &lt;br /&gt;rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no &lt;br /&gt;lawsuits from these accidents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, &lt;br /&gt;made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes. &lt;br /&gt;We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang &lt;br /&gt;the bell, or just walked in and talked to them! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't &lt;br /&gt;had to learn to deal with disappointment.   &lt;br /&gt;IMAGINE THAT!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of.  They actually sided with the law! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers &lt;br /&gt;and inventors ever! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW TO &lt;br /&gt;DEAL WITH IT ALL! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as &lt;br /&gt;kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5612920903930945183?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5612920903930945183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5612920903930945183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5612920903930945183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5612920903930945183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/to-all-kids-who-survived.html' title='TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2032434402996465597</id><published>2008-12-05T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T10:57:23.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craig Harper on Britain's Got Talent 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vd_P2GnG9Iw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vd_P2GnG9Iw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2032434402996465597?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2032434402996465597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2032434402996465597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2032434402996465597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2032434402996465597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/craig-harper-on-britains-got-talent.html' title='Craig Harper on Britain&apos;s Got Talent 2008'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1704974087161498491</id><published>2008-12-05T09:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T09:20:39.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Immigrants</title><content type='html'>Three immigrants to the U. S. were just mastering the language. One was telling the others about the difficulty they were having in attempting to start a family. He said, "I think my wife must be impregnable." The second said," that's not the right word, she is inconceivable". To which the third replied, "You are both wrong she is unbearable."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1704974087161498491?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1704974087161498491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1704974087161498491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1704974087161498491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1704974087161498491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/three-immigrants.html' title='Three Immigrants'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4526324426265903831</id><published>2008-12-04T21:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T21:43:20.809-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Father O' Malley</title><content type='html'>Father O'Malley rose from his bed. It was a fine spring day in his new Texas mission parish. He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was a large mule lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. He promptly called the local police station.The conversation went like this: 'Good morning. This is Sergeant Jones, how might I help you?''And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O'Malley at St. Mary's. There's a jackass lying dead in me front lawn. Would ye be so kind as to send a couple o'yer lads over to take care of the matter?'Sergeant Jones, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, 'Well now Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of last rites!'There was dead silence on the line for a long moment...Father O'Malley then replied: 'Aye, 'tis certainly true; but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4526324426265903831?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4526324426265903831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4526324426265903831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4526324426265903831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4526324426265903831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/father-o-malley.html' title='Father O&apos; Malley'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2059662902871561985</id><published>2008-12-04T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T21:41:23.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A blonde</title><content type='html'>Blonde is watching the news with her husband when the newscaster says 'Two Brazilian men die in a skydiving accident.'The blonde starts crying to her husband, sobbing 'That's horrible!!! So many men dying that way!'Confused, he says, 'Yes dear, it is sad, but they were skydiving, and there is always that risk involved.'After a few minutes, the blonde, still sobbing, says, 'How many is a Brazilian?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2059662902871561985?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2059662902871561985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2059662902871561985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2059662902871561985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2059662902871561985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/blonde.html' title='A blonde'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1343558781926339407</id><published>2008-12-04T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T11:23:46.031-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The decisions the dog makes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/STgtBC2avcI/AAAAAAAAFRI/h7pwx7FAaOk/s1600-h/scratch+or+pee.yahoo[1]"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276016459432771010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 531px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/STgtBC2avcI/AAAAAAAAFRI/h7pwx7FAaOk/s400/scratch+or+pee.yahoo%5B1%5D" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1343558781926339407?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1343558781926339407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1343558781926339407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1343558781926339407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1343558781926339407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/decisions-dog-makes.html' title='The decisions the dog makes...'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/STgtBC2avcI/AAAAAAAAFRI/h7pwx7FAaOk/s72-c/scratch+or+pee.yahoo%5B1%5D' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6132477567952192347</id><published>2008-12-02T09:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T09:06:02.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I will survive</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SING IT GIRLS!!! OUT LOUD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At first I was afraid, I was petrified.When you said you had 10 inches, Lord I almost died!But I'd spent so many years just waiting for a man that long,That I grew strong, and I knew that I could take you on...But there you are, another lie,I was ready for a Big Mac and you've brought me a French fry!I should have known that it was bulls***t, Just a sad pathetic dreamShould have known there was no Anaconda lurking in those Jeans! Go on now-go! , Walk out the door,Don't you promise me 10 inches, then turn up with only 4!Weren't you a brat to think I wouldn't find you out!?Don't you know we're only joking when we say size don't count??!! [Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!Cuz as long as I have batteries,My sex life's gonna thrive!I will always have good sex,With a handful of latex!I will survive! I will survive! Hey! Hey! It took all my self control not to laugh out loud,When I saw your little weiner standing tall and proud!But to hell with you r ego and to hell with all your needs,Now I'm saving all my lovin' for a cordless multispeed![Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!Cuz as long as I have batteries,My sex life's gonna thrive!I will always have good sex,With a handful of latex!I will survive! I will survive! Hey! Hey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6132477567952192347?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6132477567952192347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6132477567952192347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6132477567952192347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6132477567952192347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-will-survive.html' title='I will survive'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2254845264229073296</id><published>2008-12-02T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T09:02:51.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitions</title><content type='html'>CEO -- Chief Embezzlement Officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CFO -- Corporate Fraud Officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BULL MARKET -- A random market movement causing an investor to mistake himself for a financial genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VALUE INVESTING -- The art of buying low and selling lower.P/E RATIO -- The percentage of investors wetting their pants as the market keeps crashing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BROKER -- What my broker has made me.STANDARD &amp;amp; POOR -- Your life in a nutshell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STOCK ANALYST -- Idiot who just downgraded your stock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STOCK SPLIT -- When your ex-wife and her lawyer split your assets equally between themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINANCIAL PLANNER -- A guy whose phone has been disconnected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MARKET CORRECTION -- The day after you buy stocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CASH FLOW-- The movement your money makes as it disappears down the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAHOO -- What you yell after selling it to some poor sucker for $240 per share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WINDOWS -- What you jump out of when you're the sucker who bought Yahoo @ $240 per share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSTITUTIONAL INVESTOR -- Past year investor who's now locked up in a nuthouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PROFIT -- An archaic word no longer in use.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2254845264229073296?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2254845264229073296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2254845264229073296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2254845264229073296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2254845264229073296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/definitions.html' title='Definitions'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2073278432685625071</id><published>2008-12-02T08:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T08:59:31.601-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to go to school...</title><content type='html'>Early one morning, a mother went in to wake up her son. "Wake up, son. It's time to go to school!" "But why, Mom? I don't want to go." "Give me two reasons why you don't want to go." "Well, the kids hate me for one, and the teachers hate me, too!" "Oh, that's no reason not to go to school. Come on now and get ready." "Give me two reasons why I should go to school." "Well, for one, you're 52 years old. And for another, you're the Principal!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2073278432685625071?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2073278432685625071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2073278432685625071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2073278432685625071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2073278432685625071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-dont-want-to-go-to-school.html' title='I don&apos;t want to go to school...'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4511830904517813456</id><published>2008-12-02T08:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T08:57:03.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND</title><content type='html'>One day a man saw an old lady stranded on the side of the road. Even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe; he looked poor andhungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, 'I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.' Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he got dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.  Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone inneed and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, 'And think of me..' He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingylooking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase.The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she neverlet the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan .After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on the napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: 'You don't owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the wayI'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.' Under the napkin were four more $100 bills. Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but thewaitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? Withthe baby due next month, it was going to be hard.... She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, 'Everything's going to be all right. Ilove you, Bryan Anderson.' There is an old saying 'What goes around comes around.' Today I sent you this story, and I'm asking you to pass it on. Let this light shine. Don't delete it, don't return it. Simply, pass this on to a friend Good friends are like stars....You don't always see them, but you know they are always there.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4511830904517813456?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4511830904517813456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4511830904517813456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4511830904517813456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4511830904517813456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-goes-around-comes-around.html' title='WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4721242163293646065</id><published>2008-12-02T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T08:55:12.256-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SPOILED UNDER-30 CROWD!!!</title><content type='html'>If you are 30 or older you will think this is hilarious!!!!When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tearsWith their tedious diatribes about how hard things were. When they were growing up; what with walking Twenty-five miles to school every morning... Uphill...BOTH waysYadda, yadda, yaddaAnd I remember promising myself that when I grew up,There was no way in hell I was going to layA bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had itAnd how easy they've got it!But now that... I'm over the ripe old age ofThirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to myChildhood, you live in a damn Utopia!And I hate to say it but you kids today youDon't know how good you've got it!I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, We had to go to the damn library andLook it up ourselves, in the card catalogue!!There was no email!! We had to actually writeSomebody a letter, with a pen!...Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!There were no MP3's or Napsters! You wanted toSteal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself!Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If youWere on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it!And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either!When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school,Your mom, your boss, your Bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, youJust didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation videoGames with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With gamesLike 'Space Invaders' and 'asteroids'. Your guy was a little square! YouActually had to use your Imagination!! And there were no multiple levels orScreens, it was just one screenForever!And you could never win. The game just kept gettingHarder and harder andFaster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!Sure, we had cable television, but back then thatWas only m-net And there was no on screen menu and no remoteControl!You had to use a Little book called a TV Guide to find out what wasOn! You were screwed when it Came to channel surfing! You had to get offYour ass and walk over to the TV to change the Channel and there was noCartoon Network either! You could only get cartoonsOn Saturday Morning. Do you Hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEKFor cartoons, you spoiledLittle rat-bastards!And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heatSomething up we had to use the stove ... Imagine that!If we wanted Popcorn, we had to use that stupid Jiffy Pop thingAnd shake it over the stove forever like an idiot.That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kidsToday have got it too easy.You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lastedFive minutes back in 1980!Regards,The over 30 Crowd&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4721242163293646065?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4721242163293646065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4721242163293646065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4721242163293646065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4721242163293646065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/spoiled-under-30-crowd.html' title='THE SPOILED UNDER-30 CROWD!!!'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5708253842988115137</id><published>2008-12-02T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T08:50:38.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The reason she married</title><content type='html'>A woman in her eighties made the evening news because she was getting married for the fourth time. The following day she was being interviewed by a local TV station, and the commentator asked about what it felt to be married again at that age and would she share part of her previous experiences, since it seem quite unique the fact that her new husband was a ‘funeral director.’ After a short time to think, a smile came to her face and she proudly explained that she had first married a banker when she was in her twenties, in her forties she married a circus ring master, and in her sixties she married a pastor and now in her eighties, a funeral director. The amazed commentator asked her why she had married men with such diverse carriers. With a smile on her face she explained, ‘I married one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to go.’&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5708253842988115137?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5708253842988115137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5708253842988115137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5708253842988115137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5708253842988115137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/12/reason-she-married.html' title='The reason she married'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6904184782098747228</id><published>2008-11-27T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T22:07:03.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll do anything for a...</title><content type='html'>A woman was sitting at a bar enjoying an after-work cocktail with her girlfriends when an exceptionally tall, handsome, extremely sexy young man entered. He was so striking that the woman could not take her eyes away from him. The young man noticed her overly attentive stare &amp;amp; walked directly toward her. Before she could offer her apologies for being so rude for staring, the young man said to her, 'I'll do anything, absolutely anything, that you want me to do, no matter how kinky, for $100, on one condition.' Flabbergasted, the woman asked what the condition was. The young man replied, 'You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three words.' The woman considered his proposition for a moment, withdrew from her purse and slowly counted out five $20 bills, which she pressed into the young man's hand along with her address. She looked deeply into his eyes &amp;amp; slowly, meaningfully said, "Clean my house."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6904184782098747228?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6904184782098747228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6904184782098747228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6904184782098747228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6904184782098747228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/ill-do-anything-for.html' title='I&apos;ll do anything for a...'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6350021930060810005</id><published>2008-11-27T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T10:39:31.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NJ Cops</title><content type='html'>Two men were driving through New Jersey when they got pulled over by a NJ&lt;br /&gt;cop. The cop walked up and tapped on the window with his nightstick.&lt;br /&gt;The driver rolled down the window and WHACK," the cop smacked him in the&lt;br /&gt;head with his nightstick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell was that for?" the driver asked."You're in New Jersey, son," the cop answered. "When we pull you over in New Jersey, you better have your license ready by the time we get to your car." "I'm sorry, officer, " the driver said, "I'm from New York and didn't know your laws here." The cop runs a check on the guy's license--he's clean and gives the guy his license back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cop then walks around to the passenger side and taps on the window. The&lt;br /&gt;passenger rolls down the window and "WHACK," the cop smacks him on the head&lt;br /&gt;with the nightstick. "What'd you do that for?" the passenger demands.&lt;br /&gt;"Just making your wish come true," rep lied the cop. "Making WHAT wish come true?" the passenger asked. "Because I know you New Yorkers," the cop says, "two miles down the road; you're gonna turn to your buddy and say....." I wish that asshole would've&lt;br /&gt;tried that shit with me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6350021930060810005?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6350021930060810005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6350021930060810005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6350021930060810005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6350021930060810005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/nj-cops.html' title='NJ Cops'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-74278878379193417</id><published>2008-11-27T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T10:34:10.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY NOT TO RENT!</title><content type='html'>A businessman met a beautiful girl and agreed to spend the afternoon &lt;br /&gt;with     her for $500. They did their thing, and, before he left, he told &lt;br /&gt;her     that he did not have any cash with him, but he would have his &lt;br /&gt;secretary     write a cheque and mail it to her, calling the payment&lt;br /&gt;"RENT FOR APARTMENT."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  On the way to the office, he regretted what he had done, realizing    &lt;br /&gt;that the whole event had not been worth the price. So he had his     &lt;br /&gt;secretary send a cheque for $250 and enclose the following typed note:     &lt;br /&gt;"Dear Madam: Enclosed find a cheque for $250 for rent of your &lt;br /&gt;apartment. I am not sending the amount agreed upon, because when I &lt;br /&gt;rented the place, I was under the impression that:    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; #1 - it had never been occupied;   &lt;br /&gt; #2 - there was plenty of heat; and&lt;br /&gt; #3 - it was small enough to make me feel cosy and at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I found out that it had been previously occupied, that there &lt;br /&gt;wasn't any heat, and that it was entirely too large." Upon receipt of the note, the girl immediately returned the cheque for $250 with the following note:     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Sir:     &lt;br /&gt;First, I cannot understand how you could expect a beautiful apartment to remain unoccupied indefinitely. As for the heat, there is plenty of it, if you know how &lt;br /&gt;to turn it on. Regarding the space, the apartment is indeed of regular size,&lt;br /&gt;but if you don't have enough furniture to fill it, please do not blame &lt;br /&gt;the management. Please send the rent in full or we will be forced to contact your   present landlady.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-74278878379193417?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/74278878379193417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=74278878379193417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/74278878379193417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/74278878379193417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/why-not-to-rent.html' title='WHY NOT TO RENT!'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-638088608558245389</id><published>2008-11-27T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T10:10:28.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HILLBILLY DIVORCE</title><content type='html'>A hillbilly farmer who wanted to get a divorce paid a visit to a lawyer. The&lt;br /&gt;lawyer said, 'How can I help you?' The farmer said, 'I want to get one of&lt;br /&gt;them dayvorces.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer said, 'Do you have any grounds?' The farmer said, 'Yes, I got 40&lt;br /&gt;acres' The lawyer said, 'No, No, you don't understand, Do you have a suit? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, 'Yes, I got a suit, I wears it to church on Sundays.' The&lt;br /&gt;lawyer said, 'No, no, I mean, do you have a case?' The farmer said, 'No, I &lt;br /&gt;ain't got a Case, but I got a John Deere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer said, 'No, I mean, do you have a grudge?' The farmer said,'Yes, I&lt;br /&gt;got a grudge, that's where I parks the John Deere' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer said, 'Does your wife beat you up or something?' The farmer said,&lt;br /&gt;'No, we both get up at 4:30.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now the lawyer is getting frustrated but tries one last question .The&lt;br /&gt;lawyer said, 'Is your wife a nagger?' The farmer said, 'No, she's a little&lt;br /&gt;white gal, but our last child was a nagger and that's why I wants a&lt;br /&gt;dayvorce.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-638088608558245389?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/638088608558245389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=638088608558245389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/638088608558245389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/638088608558245389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/hillbilly-divorce.html' title='HILLBILLY DIVORCE'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6833155739976348085</id><published>2008-11-25T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T12:18:09.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little boy goes to his dad and asks, 'What is Politics ?'</title><content type='html'>Dad says, 'Well son, let me try to explain it this way: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the head of the family , so call me The President . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the People . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And your baby brother, we will call him the Future . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now think about that and see if it makes sense.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother asleep.  &lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. &lt;br /&gt;He gives up and goes back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, the little boy says to his father, 'Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father says, 'Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy replies, 'The President  is screwing the Working Class while the Government  is sound asleep. The People  are being ignored and the Future  is in deep shit .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6833155739976348085?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6833155739976348085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6833155739976348085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6833155739976348085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6833155739976348085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-boy-goes-to-his-dad-and-asks.html' title='A little boy goes to his dad and asks, &apos;What is Politics ?&apos;'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4243273184113244518</id><published>2008-11-25T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T10:59:25.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Women friends and Men friends</title><content type='html'>Friendship between women: A woman doesn’t come home one night. The next day she tells her husband that she had slept over at a girlfriend's house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband calls his wife's 10 best friends. None of them know anything about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship between men: A man doesn’t come home one night. The next day he tells his wife that he had slept over at a friend’s house. The wife calls her husband's 10 best men friends. Eight of them confirm that he had slept over, and two claim that he was still there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4243273184113244518?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4243273184113244518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4243273184113244518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4243273184113244518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4243273184113244518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/women-friends-and-men-friends.html' title='Women friends and Men friends'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-3257440910464697849</id><published>2008-11-24T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T20:44:30.258-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bar &amp; Drinking Jokes</title><content type='html'>A man is in bed with his wife when there is a rat-a-tat-tat on the door.He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it's half past three in the morning. "I'm not getting out of bed at this time," he thinks, and rolls over. Then, a louder knock follows."Aren't you going to answer that?" says his wife.So he drags himself out of bed and goes downstairs. He opens the door and there is man standing at the door. It didn't take the homeowner long to realize the man was drunk."Hi there," slurs the stranger. "Can you give me a push??""No, get lost. It's half past three. I was in bed," says the man and slams the door. He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says, "Dave, that wasn't very nice of you.Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the baby sitter and you had to knock on that man's house to get us started again? What would have happened if he'd told us to get lost??""But the guy was drunk," says the husband."It doesn't matter," says the wife. "He needs our help and it would be the right thing to help him." So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed and goes downstairs.He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts, "Hey, do you still want a push??"And he hears a voice cry out, "Yeah, please."So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts, "Where are you?"And the stranger replies, "I'm over here, on your swing."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-3257440910464697849?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/3257440910464697849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=3257440910464697849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3257440910464697849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/3257440910464697849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/bar-drinking-jokes_24.html' title='Bar &amp; Drinking Jokes'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-7052366589230719341</id><published>2008-11-22T12:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T12:27:48.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Jokes ::</title><content type='html'>A couple, desperate to conceive a child, went to their priest and asked him to pray for them. "I'm going on a sabbatical to Rome," he replied, "and while I'm there, I'll light a candle for you."When the priest returned three years later, he went to the couple's house and found the wife pregnant, busily attending to two sets of twins. Elated, the priest asked her where her husband was so that he could congratulate him."He's gone to Rome, to blow that candle out" came the harried reply.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-7052366589230719341?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/7052366589230719341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=7052366589230719341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7052366589230719341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/7052366589230719341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/family-jokes_22.html' title='Family Jokes ::'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-2815802171829898165</id><published>2008-11-20T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:17:10.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Head and shoulders</title><content type='html'>A blonde and a brunette were taking the elevator to the 25th floor.On the 3rd floor, a very handsome looking man with great hair, but an obvious amount of dandruff, gets into the elevator. The women exchange a look acknowledging just how good looking this man is.&lt;br /&gt;The man gets off the elevator on the 12th floor.&lt;br /&gt;The women watch him exit the elevator. Then the brunette turns to the blonde and says, 'God, was he good looking, but someone ought to give him some Head &amp; Shoulders.'&lt;br /&gt;To which the blonde replies, 'How do you give Shoulders?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-2815802171829898165?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/2815802171829898165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=2815802171829898165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2815802171829898165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/2815802171829898165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/head-and-shoulders.html' title='Head and shoulders'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-9074990899310001299</id><published>2008-11-20T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:16:40.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One kiss</title><content type='html'>Walking up to a department store's fabric counter, a pretty girl asked, "I want to buy this material for a new dress. How much does it cost?"&lt;br /&gt;"Only one kiss per yard, " replied the smirking male clerk.&lt;br /&gt;"That's fine," replied the girl. "I'll take ten yards."&lt;br /&gt;With expectation and anticipation written all over his face, the clerk hurriedly measured out and wrapped the cloth, then held it out teasingly.&lt;br /&gt;The girl snapped up the package and pointed to a little old&lt;br /&gt;man standing beside her. "Grandpa will pay the bill," she smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-9074990899310001299?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/9074990899310001299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=9074990899310001299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9074990899310001299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9074990899310001299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-kiss.html' title='One kiss'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5534802983820962181</id><published>2008-11-20T10:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:15:16.118-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Officer Smith</title><content type='html'>Officer Smith, not the brightest cop on the force and a incredibly poor speller, is dispatched to a bad traffic accident. He gets out of his car, and examines the scene. He then takes out his notebook and makes the notation " Vehicle One is in the ditch; D-I-T-C-H."&lt;br /&gt;He then makes a second notation "Vehicle Two is in the ditch; D-I-T-C-H." After checking further, he makes another notation in his notebook; "Headless body in ditch; D-I-T-C-H." He then walks to the center of the highway, and writes in his notebook "Head in rode; R-O-D-E", then crosses out the incorrectly spelled word, and tries again "raod; R-A-O-D". Realizing that is also spelled wrong, he crosses out that word, looks all around the area, and finding that noone is in sight, kicks the head to the side of the road, and writes in his notebook "Head in ditch; D-I-T-C-H."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5534802983820962181?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5534802983820962181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5534802983820962181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5534802983820962181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5534802983820962181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/officer-smith.html' title='Officer Smith'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-9155802808057090893</id><published>2008-11-20T10:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:14:41.695-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Hat</title><content type='html'>Murphy showed up at Mass one Sunday and the priest almost fell down when he saw him. Murphy had never been seen in church in his life. After Mass, the priest caught up with Murphy and said, 'Murphy, I am so glad you decided to come to Mass, what made you come?'&lt;br /&gt;Murphy said, 'I got to be honest with you Father, a while back, I misplaced me hat and I really, really love that hat. I know that McGlynn had a hat just like me hat, and I knew that McGlynn come to church every Sunday I also knew that McGlynn had to take off his hat during Mass and figured he would leave it in the back of the church. So, I was going to leave after Communion and steal McGlynn's hat.' &lt;br /&gt;The priest said, 'Well, Murphy, I notice that you didn't steal McGlynn's hat. What changed your mind?' &lt;br /&gt;Murphy said, 'Well, after I heard your sermon on the 10 Commandments, I decided that I didn't need to steal McGlynn's hat.' &lt;br /&gt;The priest gave Murphy a big smile and said; “After I talked about 'Thou Shall Not Steal' you decided you would rather do without your hat than Burn in Hell, right?' &lt;br /&gt;Murphy shook his head and said, 'No, Father, after you talked about 'Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery' I remembered where I left me hat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-9155802808057090893?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/9155802808057090893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=9155802808057090893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9155802808057090893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/9155802808057090893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-hat.html' title='My Hat'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-5245267195854106381</id><published>2008-11-20T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:13:19.982-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Officer in the army</title><content type='html'>A gung-ho officer is assigned to command a remote foreign legion post in the desert. When he arrives he raises hell about all the stuff he finds wrong. The sergeant accompanying him takes notes of all the infractions and says he will get them fixed. When they go behind the HQ building there is a mangy looking camel tied up there. The CO tells the sergeant it has to go. The sergeant tells him that would be bad for morale because there are no women at the post and the post is so far from town. The CO says "That's disgusting," but allows it to stay.&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later the CO is feeling horny late one night and goes around behind the building and looks at the camel. He looks around and sees no one around. He finds an old cart and rolls it up behind the camel. He climbs up on the cart and is happily pumping away on the camel when the sergeant appears, making his rounds.&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell are you doing, sir?" says the sergeant. "Why you told me yourself the men use the camel because there are no women here," says the CO. "Yes, sir, but the men get on it and ride it into town."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-5245267195854106381?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/5245267195854106381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=5245267195854106381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5245267195854106381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/5245267195854106381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/officer-in-army.html' title='Officer in the army'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6794786952744774177</id><published>2008-11-19T07:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T07:25:34.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bar &amp; Drinking Jokes ::</title><content type='html'>A man got really drunk one night in his local pub. The barman refused to serve him any more alcohol and told him he should be heading home. The man thought this was a good idea so he stood up to leave but fell over straight away. He tried to stand up again but only fell over again. He thought if only he could get outside and get some fresh air he'd be grand. So he crawled outside then tried to stand up and fell over again. In the end after falling over lots more he decided to crawl home. When he got back to his house he pulled himself up using the door handle but as soon as he let go he fell over again. He had to crawl up the stairs and managed to fall over onto the bed and fell asleep. When he finally woke up the next morning his wife asked him what he was doing at the pub last night. He denied it but she said, "I know you were there..." he maintained his innocence until "...the barman rang to say you forgot your wheelchair again...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6794786952744774177?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6794786952744774177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6794786952744774177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6794786952744774177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6794786952744774177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/bar-drinking-jokes.html' title='Bar &amp; Drinking Jokes ::'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-4904392855867650147</id><published>2008-11-18T20:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T20:54:55.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Jokes</title><content type='html'>A man goes on a 2-month business trip to Europe and leaves his cat with his brother. Three days before his return he calls his brother. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 1: So how is my cat doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 2: He's Dead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 1: He's Dead! What do you mean He's Dead! I loved that cat. Couldn't you think of a nicer way to tell me! I'm leaving in 3 days. You could of broke me to the news easier. You could of told me today that she got out of the house or something. Then when I called before I left you could of told me, Well, we found her but she is up on the roof and we're having trouble getting her down. Then when I call you from the airport you could of told me, The Fire Department was there and scared her off the roof and the cat died when it hit the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 2: I'm sorry...you're right...that was insensitive I won't let it happen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 1: Alright, alright, forget about it. Anyway, how is Mom doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother 2: She's up on the roof and we're having trouble getting her down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-4904392855867650147?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/4904392855867650147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=4904392855867650147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4904392855867650147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/4904392855867650147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/family-jokes.html' title='Family Jokes'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-1571199197073072752</id><published>2008-11-17T21:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T21:59:17.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lie Detector</title><content type='html'>John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmick.&lt;br /&gt;His wife, Marsha, had long ago given up trying to get him to change. One &lt;br /&gt;day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a&lt;br /&gt;robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector.&lt;br /&gt;It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 11 year old son, &lt;br /&gt;returned home from school. Tommy was over two hours late.&lt;br /&gt;"Where have you been? Why are you over two hours late getting home?" asked&lt;br /&gt;John.&lt;br /&gt;"Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project," &lt;br /&gt;said Tommy.&lt;br /&gt;The robot then walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him&lt;br /&gt;completely out of his chair.&lt;br /&gt;"Son," said John, "this robot is a lie detector. Now tell us where you&lt;br /&gt;really were after school."&lt;br /&gt;"We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie." said Tommy.&lt;br /&gt;"What did you watch?" asked Marsha.&lt;br /&gt;"The Ten Commandments," answered Tommy.&lt;br /&gt;The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him &lt;br /&gt;off his chair once more.&lt;br /&gt;With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, "I am sorry I &lt;br /&gt;lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen."&lt;br /&gt;"I am ashamed of you son," said John. "When I was your age, I never lied &lt;br /&gt;to my parents."&lt;br /&gt;The robot then walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly&lt;br /&gt;knocked him out of his chair.&lt;br /&gt;Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, "Boy, did you&lt;br /&gt;ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is&lt;br /&gt;your son!"&lt;br /&gt;With that, the robot immediately walked around to Marsha and knocked her &lt;br /&gt;out of her chair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-1571199197073072752?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/1571199197073072752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=1571199197073072752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1571199197073072752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/1571199197073072752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/lie-detector.html' title='The Lie Detector'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6430465535499217873.post-6391030466391437079</id><published>2008-11-17T07:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T07:02:26.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truck Driver</title><content type='html'>There's this little guy sitting inside a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half-an-hour.&lt;br /&gt;Then, this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and just drinks it all down.&lt;br /&gt;The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says: "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't see a man crying." "No, it's not that. Today day is the worst of my life. First, I overslept and was late to an important meeting. My boss, outrageous, fired me. When I left the building to my car, I found out it was stolen. The police, they said they could do nothing. I got a cab to return home, and after I paid the cab driver and the cab had gone, I found that I left my whole wallet in the cab. I got home only to find my wife was in bed with the gardener. I left home and came to this bar. And when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison ..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6430465535499217873-6391030466391437079?l=whatwaste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/feeds/6391030466391437079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6430465535499217873&amp;postID=6391030466391437079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6391030466391437079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6430465535499217873/posts/default/6391030466391437079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwaste.blogspot.com/2008/11/truck-driver.html' title='The Truck Driver'/><author><name>Jett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RaOrchOImw8/SljvCriR8pI/AAAAAAAAVL4/qVcb3DnVTeU/S220/500x333_12690383yung-joc-big.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
