<?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-11673677</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:00:06.976-05:00</updated><category term='Store'/><category term='Location'/><category term='Rosie O&apos;Donnell'/><category term='Fake History'/><category term='Phychology'/><category term='Teacher'/><category term='Stranded'/><category term='Thoughts of the Day'/><category term='Hunting'/><category term='Beer'/><category term='Hillbilly'/><category term='Courtroom'/><category term='Engineer'/><category term='Computer'/><category term='Gay'/><category term='Military'/><category term='College'/><category term='Sex'/><category term='History'/><category term='Grave'/><category term='Stewardess'/><category term='Car'/><category term='Hypnotist'/><category term='Police'/><category term='kids'/><category term='Unemployment'/><category term='Quiz'/><category term='Indian'/><category term='IBM'/><category term='Fishing'/><category term='Blind'/><category term='Fart'/><category term='Political'/><category term='Fairy Tales'/><category term='Birthday'/><category term='Exercise'/><category term='Taliban'/><category term='Bathroom'/><category term='Firemen'/><category term='Foreigners'/><category term='bar'/><category term='Southern'/><category term='Animal'/><category term='Blonde'/><category term='Farmer'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Farmer&apos;s Daughter'/><category term='Mother-In-Law'/><category term='Job Interview'/><category term='Last Will and Testament'/><category term='PMS'/><category term='Innocent'/><category term='Mexico'/><category term='Wal-Mart'/><category term='IQ Test'/><category term='Microsoft'/><category term='Slogan'/><category term='Tailor'/><category term='Senior Citizen'/><category term='Doctor'/><category term='Technology'/><category term='Word Play'/><category term='Tarzan'/><category term='Chinese'/><category term='Management'/><category term='Barber'/><category term='Little Old Lady'/><category term='Men vs. Women'/><category term='America'/><category term='Little Johnny'/><category term='Government'/><category term='Celebrity'/><category term='headlines'/><category term='Gross'/><category term='Food'/><category term='Money'/><category term='Religion'/><category term='Bill Clinton'/><category term='Polish Joke'/><category term='Salesmen'/><category term='Cab Driver'/><category term='Redneck'/><category term='Drunk'/><category term='Holiday'/><category term='Lawyer'/><category term='Cowboy'/><category term='Burma Shave'/><category term='Pet'/><category term='Teenagers'/><category term='Advice'/><category term='IRS'/><category term='Jesse Jackson'/><category term='Children'/><category term='Snooring'/><category term='Light Bulb'/><category term='Ick'/><category term='Professions'/><category term='Saddam'/><category term='Hillary Clinton'/><category term='Pun'/><category term='genie'/><category term='The View'/><category term='Sven and Lena'/><category term='Sports'/><category term='Post Office'/><title type='text'>Trybble's Bytes</title><subtitle type='html'>Trybble's Bytes contains a collection of wisdom and humor found on the Internet. Most of the material on this blog has been from various email messages that were passed on to me by others. Occasionally, I'll publish some information that you may find interesting. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

             .........Trybble</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>462</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7282698569761339381</id><published>2007-06-15T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T23:01:32.085-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexico'/><title type='text'>Great Marketing</title><content type='html'>Jose &amp; Carlos are panhandling on the street. Jose drives a Mercedes, lives in a mortgage free house and has a lot of money to spend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos only brings in 2 to 3 dollars a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos asks Jose how he can bring home a suitcase full of $10 bills every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jose says "Look at your sign. It says: I have no work, a wife and 6 kids to support".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos looks at Jose's sign. It reads "I only need another $10.00 to move back to Mexico".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7282698569761339381?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7282698569761339381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7282698569761339381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7282698569761339381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7282698569761339381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/great-marketing_15.html' title='Great Marketing'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4735370704618932289</id><published>2007-06-14T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T19:11:03.623-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fairy Tales'/><title type='text'>A Politically Correct Fairy Tale</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle. The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: " Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel &lt;br /&gt;grateful and happy doing so. " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sauteed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself:  I don't fuckin think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4735370704618932289?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4735370704618932289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4735370704618932289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4735370704618932289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4735370704618932289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/politically-correct-fairy-tale.html' title='A Politically Correct Fairy Tale'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2338557118891096687</id><published>2007-06-13T10:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T19:11:35.712-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Burma Shave'/><title type='text'>Burma Shave</title><content type='html'>For those who never saw any of the Burma Shave signs, here is a quick lesson in our history of the 1930's and '40's. Before there were interstates, when everyone drove the old 2 lane roads, Burma Shave signs would be posted all over the countryside in farmers' fields. They were small red signs with white letters. Five signs, about 100 feet apart, each containing 1 line of a 4 line couplet...... and the obligatory 5th sign advertising Burma Shave, a popular shaving cream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are someof the actual signs: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T STICK YOUR ELBOW &lt;br /&gt;OUT SO FAR &lt;br /&gt;IT MAY GO HOME &lt;br /&gt;IN ANOTHER CAR &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRAINS DON'T WANDER &lt;br /&gt;ALL OVER THE MAP &lt;br /&gt;'CAUSE NOBODY SITS &lt;br /&gt;IN THE ENGINEER'S LAP &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHE  KISSED THE HAIRBRUSH &lt;br /&gt;BY MISTAKE &lt;br /&gt;SHE! THOUGHT IT WAS &lt;br /&gt;HER HUSBAND JAKE &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD &lt;br /&gt;TO GAIN A MINUTE &lt;br /&gt;YOU NEED YOUR HEAD &lt;br /&gt;YOUR BRAINS ARE IN IT &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DROVE TOO LONG &lt;br /&gt;DRIVER SNOOZING &lt;br /&gt;WHAT HAPPENED &lt;br /&gt;NEXT IS NOT AMUSING &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BROTHER SPEEDER &lt;br /&gt;LET'S REHEARSE &lt;br /&gt;ALL TOGETHER &lt;br /&gt;GOOD MORNING, NURSE &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAUTIOUS RIDER &lt;br /&gt;TO HER  RECKLESS DEAR &lt;br /&gt;LET'S HAVE LESS BULL &lt;br /&gt;AND MORE STEER &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SPEED WAS HIGH &lt;br /&gt;WEATHER WAS NOT &lt;br /&gt;TIRES WERE THIN &lt;br /&gt;X MARKS THE  SPOT &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE MIDNIGHT RIDE &lt;br /&gt;OF PAUL FOR BEER &lt;br /&gt;LED TO A WARMER &lt;br /&gt;HEMISPHERE &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AROUND THE CURVE &lt;br /&gt;LICKETY-SPLIT &lt;br /&gt;BEAUTIFUL CAR &lt;br /&gt;WASN'T IT? &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO  MATTER THE PRICE &lt;br /&gt;NO MATTER HOW NEW &lt;br /&gt;THE BEST SAFETY DEVICE &lt;br /&gt;IN THE CAR IS  YOU &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A GUY WHO DRIVES &lt;br /&gt;A CAR WIDE OPEN &lt;br /&gt;IS NOT THINKIN' &lt;br /&gt;HE'S JUST HOPIN' &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AT INTERSECTIONS &lt;br /&gt;LOOK EACH  WAY &lt;br /&gt;A HARP SOUNDS NICE &lt;br /&gt;BUT IT'S HARD TO PLAY &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH  HANDS ON THE WHEEL &lt;br /&gt;EYES ON THE ROAD &lt;br /&gt;THAT'! S THE SKILLFUL &lt;br /&gt;DRIVER'S  CODE &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE ONE WHO DRIVES &lt;br /&gt;WHEN HE'S BEEN  DRINKING &lt;br /&gt;DEPENDS ON YOU &lt;br /&gt;TO DO HIS THINKING &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAR IN  DITCH &lt;br /&gt;DRIVER IN TREE &lt;br /&gt;THE MOON WAS FULL &lt;br /&gt;AND SO WAS HE. &lt;br /&gt;Burma   Shave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PASSING SCHOOL ZONE &lt;br /&gt;TAKE IT  SLOW &lt;br /&gt;LET OUR LITTLE &lt;br /&gt;SHAVERS GROW &lt;br /&gt;Burma Shave&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2338557118891096687?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2338557118891096687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2338557118891096687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2338557118891096687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2338557118891096687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/burma-shave.html' title='Burma Shave'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1734541291491053967</id><published>2007-06-12T07:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T07:53:27.961-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexico'/><title type='text'>Problem Solved</title><content type='html'>Just a note to tell you that my e-mailbox is being flooded with mail concerning gas prices and illegal immigrants. To boycott oil companies or not; to provide amnesty to illegal immigrants or not, etc. Since I have become jaded to the various solutions proposed by the Republicans, Democrats, Sierra Club, ACLU, etc., I have elected to solve the problems as they affect me. My response solves both my gas and illegal immigrant problems.... I have hired illegal immigrants to push my Chevy Malibu. They're plentiful and cheaper than buying gas. Then I pay them in Pesos so they have to go home to spend it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1734541291491053967?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1734541291491053967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1734541291491053967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1734541291491053967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1734541291491053967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/problem-solved.html' title='Problem Solved'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4681633088968233753</id><published>2007-06-11T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:48:43.486-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>Pound of Brains</title><content type='html'>A cannibal entered the meat market to buy something nice for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner greeted him and told him to look around. The cannibal began to inspect the meat case and noticed the market specialized in brain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon further inspection he noticed a marked disparity between the costs of brain meats. A carpenter's brain sells for $1.50 per pound. A plumber's brain sells for $2.25 per pound. He noticed with alarm that a politician's brain sells for $375.00 a pound. With not a little curiosity he asked the owner why the huge difference in price between the similar meats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner responded with a deadpan look on his face, "Do you realize how many politicians it takes to get a pound of brains?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alternate ending:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner responded with a deadpan look on his face, "Have you ever tried to clean one?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4681633088968233753?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4681633088968233753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4681633088968233753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4681633088968233753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4681633088968233753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/pound-of-brains.html' title='Pound of Brains'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4853372008516197659</id><published>2007-06-10T10:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:46:07.567-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexico'/><title type='text'>Mexican Eggs</title><content type='html'>Two Mexicans are riding along Pacific Coast Highway on a motorbike. They break down and start hitching a lift. A friendly  trucker stops to see if he can help and the Mexicans ask him for a lift. He tells them he has no room in the wagon as he is carrying 20,000 bowling balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mexican put it to the driver that if they can manage to fit in the back with their bike will he take them and he agrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They  manage to squeeze themselves and their motorbike into the back of the wagon so the driver shuts the doors and gets off on his way. By this time he is really late and so puts his foot down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough the Highway Patrol pull him up for speeding. The good officer asks the driver what he is carrying to which he replies Mexican eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The policeman obviously doesn't believe this so wants to take a look. He opens the back door and  quickly shuts it and locks it. He gets onto his radio and calls for immediate backup from as many officers as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dispatcher asks what emergency he has that requires so many officers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've got a wagon  with 20,000 Mexican eggs in it - 2 have hatched and the bastards have managed to steal a motorbike already".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4853372008516197659?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4853372008516197659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4853372008516197659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4853372008516197659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4853372008516197659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/mexican-eggs.html' title='Mexican Eggs'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1053706561096110609</id><published>2007-06-09T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:42:49.398-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>They Walk Among Us</title><content type='html'>I was at the checkout of a K-Mart. The clerk rang up $46.64 charge. I gave her a fifty dollar bill. She gave me back $46.64. I gave it back to her and told her that she had made a mistake in MY favor and gave her the money back. She became indignant and informed me she was educated and knew what she was doing, and returned the money again. I gave her the money back again...same scenario! I departed the store with the&lt;br /&gt;$46.64.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This actually happened to me in Austin at MoPac Blvd and Parmer Lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us and Many Work Retail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into a Mickey D's with a buy-one-get-one-free coupon for a sandwich. I handed it to the girl and she looked over at a little chalkboard that said "buy one-get one free." "They're already buy-one-get-one-free", sh said, "so I guess they're both free" She handed me my free sandwiches and I walked out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us and Many Work Retail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I was walking down the beach with some friends when one of them shouted, "Look at that dead bird!" Someone looked up at the sky and said, "Where?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While looking at a house, my brother asked the real estate agent which direction was north because, he explained, he didn't want the sun waking him up every morning. She asked, "Does the sun rise in the north?" When my brother explained that the sun rises in the east, and has for sometime, she shook her head and said, "Oh I don't keep up with that stuff."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to work in technical support for a 24/7 call center. One day I got a call from an individual who asked what hours the call center was open. I told him, "The number you dialed is pen 24 hours a day, 7 days a week." He responded, "Is that Eastern or Pacific time?" Wanting to end the call quickly, I said, "Uh, Pacific."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister has a lifesaving tool in her car designed to cut through a seat belt if she gets trapped. She keeps it in the trunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I were on a beer run and noticed that the cases were discounted 10%. Since it was a big party, we bought 2 cases. The cashier multiplied 2 times 10% and gave us a 20% discount.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't find my luggage at the airport baggage area, so I went to the lost luggage office and told the woman there that my bags never showed up. She smiled and told me not to worry because she was a trained professional and I was in good hands. "Now," she asked me, has your plane arrived yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............They Walk Among Us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While working at a pizza parlor I observed a man ordering a small pizza to go. He appeared to be alone and the cook asked him if he would like it cut into 4 pieces or 6. He thought about it for some time before responding. "Just cut it into 4 pieces; I don't think I'm hungry enough to eat 6 pieces."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............Yep, They Walk Among Us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1053706561096110609?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1053706561096110609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1053706561096110609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1053706561096110609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1053706561096110609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/they-walk-among-us.html' title='They Walk Among Us'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7977729823671327380</id><published>2007-06-08T10:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:35:44.971-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><title type='text'>Grandpa</title><content type='html'>A little girl was sitting on her grandfather's lap as he read her a bedtime story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From time to time she would take her eyes off the book and reach up to touch his wrinkled cheek. She was alternately stroking her own cheek, then his again. Finally, she spoke up, "Grandpa, did God make you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, sweetheart," he answered, "God made me a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Grandpa, did God make me too?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, indeed, honey," he said, "God made you just a little while ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling their respective faces again, she observed, "God's getting better at it, isn't he?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7977729823671327380?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7977729823671327380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7977729823671327380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7977729823671327380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7977729823671327380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/grandpa.html' title='Grandpa'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3150247377201905233</id><published>2007-06-07T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:34:02.934-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Animal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Horth Withperer</title><content type='html'>Bob calls his buddy Sam, the horse rancher, and says he's sending a friend over to look at a horse.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sam asks "How will I recognize him?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"That's easy, he's a midget with a speech impediment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the midget shows up and Sam asks him if he's looking for a male or female horse.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"A female horth."  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So he shows him a prized filly.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Nith lookin horth. Can I thee her eyeth"?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sam picks up the midget and he gives the horse's eyes the once over.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Nith eyeth. Can I thee her earzth"?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So he picks the little fella up again, and shows him the horse's ears.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Nith earzth. Can I see her mouf"?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The rancher is gettin' pretty ticked off by this point, but he picks him up again and shows him the horse's mouth.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Nith mouf. Can I see her twat"?  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Totally mad at this point, the rancher grabs him under his arms and rams the midget's head as far as he can up the horse's twat, pulls him out, and drops him on &lt;br /&gt;the ground.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The midget gets up, sputtering and coughing. "Perhapth I thould rephrathe that;  &lt;br /&gt;Can I thee her wun awound a widdle bit?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3150247377201905233?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3150247377201905233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3150247377201905233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3150247377201905233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3150247377201905233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/horth-withperer.html' title='The Horth Withperer'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6711625615781083276</id><published>2007-06-06T10:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:31:53.921-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rosie O&apos;Donnell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The View'/><title type='text'>Mystery Hog</title><content type='html'>Last month, an eleven-year-old boy in Alabama, on a hunting trip with his &lt;br /&gt;father, killed a wild boar hog weighing 1051 pounds. The pig is reportedly &lt;br /&gt;larger than the famous Hogzilla of the state and is the largest reported &lt;br /&gt;boar kill ever. The family announced that they plan to mount the head and &lt;br /&gt;make sausage from the meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a possibly unrelated story, Rosie O'Donnell has been reported missing in &lt;br /&gt;the state of Alabama one day after resigning from The View. The activist, &lt;br /&gt;comedian, lesbian, and talk show hostess quit because of conflicts with just &lt;br /&gt;about every member of the cast and crew on the show. At last report, she was &lt;br /&gt;going to an Alabama lesbian nudist colony to enjoy "communing with nature."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theories that the two stories could be related could not be confirmed, &lt;br /&gt;because it is believed that Rosie weighed more than the pig and was not as &lt;br /&gt;attractive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6711625615781083276?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6711625615781083276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6711625615781083276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6711625615781083276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6711625615781083276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/mystery-hog.html' title='Mystery Hog'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4675793328861234896</id><published>2007-06-05T10:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:15:13.157-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gay'/><title type='text'>Garden Spiders</title><content type='html'>A father watched his young daughter playing in the garden. He smiled as he reflected on how sweet and pure his little girl was. He thought about her seeing the wonders of nature through such innocent eyes.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Suddenly she just stopped and stared at the ground.  He went over to her to see what work of God had captured her attention. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He noticed she was looking at two spiders mating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They're mating," her father replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you call the spider on top?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's a Daddy Longlegs," her father answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?" the little girl asked. As his heart soared with the joy of such a cute and innocent question,  he replied "No dear. Both of them are Daddy Longlegs."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The little girl, looking a little puzzled, thought for a moment, then took her foot and stomped them flat and said, "Well, we're not having any of that Brokeback-Mountain shit in our garden.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4675793328861234896?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4675793328861234896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4675793328861234896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4675793328861234896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4675793328861234896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/garden-spiders.html' title='Garden Spiders'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8631187570688725366</id><published>2007-06-04T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:15:58.168-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>Building a House</title><content type='html'>A young family moved into a house, next to a vacant lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, a construction crew turned up to start building a house on the empty lot. The young family's 5-year-old daughter naturally took an interest in all the activity going on next door and spent much of each day observing the workers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually the construction crew, all of them "gems-in-the-rough," more or less, adopted her as a kind of project mascot. They chatted with her, let her sit with them while they had coffee and lunch breaks, and gave her little jobs to do here and there to make her feel important.  At the end of the first week, they even presented her with a pay envelope containing a ten-dollar check. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl took this home to her mother who suggested that she take the ten-dollar "pay" she'd received to the bank the next day to start a savings account.  When the girl and her mom got to the bank, the teller was equally impressed and asked the little girl how she had come by her very own pay check at such a young age. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl proudly replied, "I worked last week with a work crew building the new house next door to us." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my goodness gracious," said the teller, "and will you be working on the house again this week, too?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl replied, "I will, if those assholes at Home Depot ever deliver the fuckin' sheet rock..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8631187570688725366?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8631187570688725366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8631187570688725366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8631187570688725366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8631187570688725366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/building-house.html' title='Building a House'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1049161499369169376</id><published>2007-06-03T10:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:11:08.540-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Don't Ask Too Many Questions</title><content type='html'>After a long night of making love, a man notices a photo of another man on the nightstand by the bed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He begins to worry.. "Is this your husband?" he nervously asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, silly," she replies, snuggling up to him.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Your boyfriend, then?" he continues.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"No, not at all," she says, nibbling away at his ear.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Is it your dad or your brother?" he inquires, hoping to be reassured.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"No, no, no! You are so hot when you're jealous!" she answers.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, who in the hell is he, then?" he demands.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"That's me before the surgery."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1049161499369169376?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1049161499369169376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1049161499369169376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1049161499369169376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1049161499369169376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/dont-ask-too-many-questions.html' title='Don&apos;t Ask Too Many Questions'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1641950367799797776</id><published>2007-06-02T10:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T10:09:42.857-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><title type='text'>The Rabbi and the Priest</title><content type='html'>A priest was called away for an emergency. Not wanting to leave the confessional unattended, he called his rabbi friend from across the street and asked him to cover for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi was concerned that he wouldn't know what to say, but the priest told him to come on over and he'd stay with him for a little bit and show him what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi comes, and he and the priest go into the confessional together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few minutes, a woman comes in and says, "Father, forgive me for I have sinned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest asks, "What did you do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman says, "I committed adultery."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "How many times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Three times."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "Say three Hail Marys, put $5 in the box, and go and sin no more."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, a man enters the confessional. He says, "Father, forgive me for I have sinned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "What did you do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "I committed adultery."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "How many times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "Three times."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "Say three Hail Marys, put $5 in the box, and go and sin no more."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi tells the priest that he thinks he's got it so the priest leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, another woman enters and says, "Father, forgive me for I have sinned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rabbi: "What did you do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "I committed adultery."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rabbi: "How many times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Once."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rabbi: "Go do it two more times. We have a special this week, three for $5."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1641950367799797776?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1641950367799797776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1641950367799797776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1641950367799797776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1641950367799797776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/rabbi-and-priest.html' title='The Rabbi and the Priest'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7011552749239603591</id><published>2007-06-01T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T13:15:59.826-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Parrots</title><content type='html'>This lady approaches a priest and tells him, “Father, I have a problem. I have these two talking female parrots, but they only know how to say one thing and that is, 'Hi, we're members of the oldest profession,wanna make out with us?'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest replied, “That’s terrible!! But, there’s a solution to your problem. Bring your two talking female parrots over to my house, and I will put them with my two male talking parrots who I taught to pray and read the Bible. My parrots will teach your parrots to stop saying that terrible phrase! ”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you!” the woman responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next day, the lady brings her female parrots to the priest’s house. The priest’s two male parrots are holding rosary beads and praying in their cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady puts her female parrots in with the male parrots and the female parrots say, "Hi, we're members of the oldest profession, wanna make out with us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One male parrot looks over at the other male parrot and exclaims, “Put the beads away. Our prayers have been answered!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7011552749239603591?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7011552749239603591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7011552749239603591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7011552749239603591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7011552749239603591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/06/parrots.html' title='Parrots'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-36191180394868504</id><published>2007-05-31T13:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T13:13:30.926-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='College'/><title type='text'>Slogans</title><content type='html'>A professor was giving a lecture on company slogans in a college advertising and marketing class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Joe,” he asked, “which company has the slogan, ‘Come fly the friendly skies’?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“United Airlines.” Joe answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Brenda, can you tell me which company has the slogan, “I'm Lovin' It?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brenda answered McDonalds with no difficulty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now John, Tell me who says, ‘Just do it’?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And John answered, “Mom?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-36191180394868504?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/36191180394868504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=36191180394868504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/36191180394868504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/36191180394868504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/professor-was-giving-lecture-on-company.html' title='Slogans'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2422695224312343940</id><published>2007-05-30T13:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T13:12:07.762-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><title type='text'>A Pair of Blondes...</title><content type='html'>Two blondes were walking down the road and the first blonde said, “Look at that dog with one eye!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other blonde covers one of her eyes and says, “Where?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2422695224312343940?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2422695224312343940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2422695224312343940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2422695224312343940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2422695224312343940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/pair-of-blondes.html' title='A Pair of Blondes...'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-5383300437093122979</id><published>2007-05-29T12:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:13:22.957-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawyer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Post Office'/><title type='text'>The New Stamp</title><content type='html'>Did you hear that the Post Office just recalled their latest Stamps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had pictures of lawyers on them and people couldn’t figure out which side to spit on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-5383300437093122979?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5383300437093122979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=5383300437093122979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5383300437093122979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5383300437093122979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/new-stamp.html' title='The New Stamp'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-175984929629022737</id><published>2007-05-28T12:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:11:51.725-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mother-In-Law'/><title type='text'>The Call from Home</title><content type='html'>A man leaves home on an extended vacation. After being gone for two weeks he calls his brother at home to inquire of the state of his household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brother bluntly states that, “Your cat died!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replies, “That is such a cold unfeeling attitude and no way to break bad news to me while I am so far away. What you should have said was, “I am sorry to tell you this, but your cat climbed up onto the roof…and couldn’t get down. I called the fire department and they came to get her. While she was being brought to the ground, she jumped from the arms of the fireman, and fell to the ground. We rushed to the vet with her, but she died from her injuries.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man continued, “That would have been a much nicer way to give me the news.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brother agreed and they continued their conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, the caller asked, “SO, how’s my Mother-in Law?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a 30 second delay then the brother slowly responded, “………….Well….She’s on the roof!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-175984929629022737?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/175984929629022737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=175984929629022737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/175984929629022737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/175984929629022737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/call-from-home.html' title='The Call from Home'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8117312107015677472</id><published>2007-05-27T12:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:09:39.796-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Management'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Location'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redneck'/><title type='text'>The Job Interview</title><content type='html'>Interviewing for an engineering position at Fed Ex, a Yankee and a good-ol’ boy applied for the same job and both applicants having the same qualifications were asked to take a test by the manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon completion of the test, both men only missed one of the questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager went to Bubba and said: “Thank you for your interest, but we’ve decided to give the Yankee the job.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba asked: “And why are you giving him the job?  We both got nine questions correct.  This being Tennessee, and me being a Southern boy I should get the job!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager said: “We have made our decision not on the correct answers, but rather on the one question that you both missed.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba then asked: “What’cha mean?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager replied: “Bubba, its like this. On question #4 the Yankee put down; “I don’t know.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put down, “Neither do I.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8117312107015677472?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8117312107015677472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8117312107015677472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8117312107015677472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8117312107015677472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/job-interview.html' title='The Job Interview'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2388563007554225378</id><published>2007-05-26T12:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:07:40.417-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senior Citizen'/><title type='text'>Grandma's 100th Birthday</title><content type='html'>The family wheeled Grandma out on the lawn, in her wheelchair, where the activities for her 100th birthday were taking place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma couldn’t speak very well, but she could write notes when she needed to communicate.&lt;br /&gt;After a short time out on the lawn, Grandma started leaning off to the right, so some family members grabbed her, straightened her up, and stuffed pillows on her right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time later, she started leaning off to her left, so again the family grabbed her and stuffed pillows on her left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon she started leaning forward, so the family members again grabbed her, then tied a pillowcase around her waist to hold her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A grandson, who arrived late, came up to Grandma and said,  “Hi, Grandma, you’re looking good!  How are they treating you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma took out her little notepad and slowly wrote a note to the nephew… “I’m okay, but they won’t let me pass gas!!!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2388563007554225378?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2388563007554225378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2388563007554225378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2388563007554225378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2388563007554225378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/grandmas-100th-birthday.html' title='Grandma&apos;s 100th Birthday'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4923720477929270844</id><published>2007-05-25T07:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T12:05:55.695-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Johnny'/><title type='text'>The Horse Auction</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Little Johnny attended a horse auction with his Father.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He watched as his father moved from horse to horse, running his hands up and down the horse’s legs and rump and chest.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After a few minutes, Johnny asked, “Dad, why are you doing that?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;His father replied, “Because when I’m buying horses, I have to make sure that they are healthy and in good shape before I buy.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Johnny, looking worried, said, “Dad, I think the FedEx guy wants to buy Mom.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4923720477929270844?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4923720477929270844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4923720477929270844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4923720477929270844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4923720477929270844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/horse-auction.html' title='The Horse Auction'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8249315934142364795</id><published>2007-05-24T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:45:03.262-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>Women are so Touchy!</title><content type='html'>A man staggered into a hospital with a concussion, multiple bruises, two black eyes, and a five iron wrapped tightly around his throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, the Doctor asked him, “What happened to you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, I was having a quiet round of golf with my wife, when at a difficult hole, we both sliced our balls into a cow pasture. We went to look for them and while I was looking around I noticed one of the cows had something white at its rear end.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I walked over, lifted its tail, and sure enough, there was a golf ball with my wife’s monogram on it - stuck right in the middle of the cow’s butt!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still holding the cow’s tail up, I yelled to my wife, “Hey, this looks like yours! I don’t remember much of anything after that.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8249315934142364795?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8249315934142364795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8249315934142364795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8249315934142364795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8249315934142364795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/women-are-so-touchy.html' title='Women are so Touchy!'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4396714216011374289</id><published>2007-05-23T11:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:40:53.981-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Squeezing a Lemon</title><content type='html'>The local bar was so sure its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1000 bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would win the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people had tried over time, including the professional wrestlers and bodybuilders, but nobody could do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day a scrawny little man came in, wearing a tie and a pair of pants hiked up past his belly button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said in a squeaky annoying voice, “I’d like to try the bet.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the laughter had died down, the bartender said, “Ok,” grabbed a lemon, and squeezed away. He then handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the crowd’s laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid the $1000, and asked the little man, “What did you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, weight lifter, or what?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, “I work for the IRS.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4396714216011374289?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4396714216011374289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4396714216011374289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4396714216011374289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4396714216011374289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/squeezing-lemon.html' title='Squeezing a Lemon'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4786013621650559855</id><published>2007-05-22T11:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:39:36.194-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawyer'/><title type='text'>No Money For Food</title><content type='html'>One afternoon a lawyer was riding in his limousine when he saw two men along the roadside eating grass. Disturbed, he ordered his driver to stop and he got out to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked one man, “Why are you eating grass?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We don’t have any money for food,” the poor man replied. “We have to eat grass.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, then, you can come with me to my house and I’ll feed you,” the lawyer said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are over there, under that tree.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bring them along,” the lawyer replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all entered the limo and one of the poor fellows turned to the lawyer and said, “Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us with you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer replied, “Glad to do it. You’ll really love my place. The grass is almost a foot high.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4786013621650559855?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4786013621650559855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4786013621650559855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4786013621650559855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4786013621650559855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/no-money-for-food.html' title='No Money For Food'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4008013899062869587</id><published>2007-05-21T11:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:38:03.007-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Police'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><title type='text'>The Blonde and the Police</title><content type='html'>A brunette and a blonde were speeding down the street when they passed a cop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh no!” cried the brunette. “Is he following me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yep,” replied the blonde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m going to drive down this little side road, okay?” said the brunette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yep,” replied the blonde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is the cop still following me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yep.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are his lights on?” “Yep, nope, yep, nope, yep, nope…”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4008013899062869587?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4008013899062869587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4008013899062869587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4008013899062869587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4008013899062869587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/brunette-and-blonde-were-speeding-down.html' title='The Blonde and the Police'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8994455537108738063</id><published>2007-05-20T11:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:25:13.082-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>Spelling Your Way Into Heaven</title><content type='html'>A woman arrived at the Gates of Heaven.  When Saint Peter came by, the woman said to him, “This is such a wonderful place! How do I get in?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You have to spell a word,” Saint Peter told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Which word?” the woman asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Love.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman correctly spelled “Love” and Saint Peter welcomed her into Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a year later, Saint Peter came to the woman and asked her to watch the Gates of Heaven for him that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the woman was guarding the Gates of Heaven, her husband arrived. “I’m surprised to see you,” the woman said. “How have you been?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, I’ve been doing pretty well since you died,” her husband told her. “I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill.  And then I won the powerball lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a huge mansion. And my wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation in Cancun and I went water skiing today. I  fell and hit my head, and here I am. What a bummer! How do I get in?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You have to spell a word,” the woman told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Which word?” her husband asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Czechoslovakia.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8994455537108738063?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8994455537108738063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8994455537108738063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8994455537108738063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8994455537108738063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/spelling-your-way-into-heaven.html' title='Spelling Your Way Into Heaven'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1317887899396070798</id><published>2007-05-19T11:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:13:18.825-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Phychology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='College'/><title type='text'>Emptional Extremes</title><content type='html'>Three aspiring psychiatrists, from three different universities, were attending their first class on “emotional extremes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor asked the student from University of Tennessee, “What is the opposite of joy?”&lt;br /&gt;“Sadness’” said the student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And the opposite of depression?” he asked the young lady from University of Memphis.&lt;br /&gt;“Elation,” she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And you, sir,” he said to the student from University of Arkansas, “How about the opposite of woe?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student replied, “Sir, I believe that would be giddy up.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1317887899396070798?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1317887899396070798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1317887899396070798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1317887899396070798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1317887899396070798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/emptional-extremes.html' title='Emptional Extremes'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4952422878845244838</id><published>2007-05-18T09:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T09:32:22.588-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Government'/><title type='text'>Government Contracting</title><content type='html'>Three contractors are bidding to fix a broken fence at the White House in D.C. One from New Jersey, another from Tennessee and the third, Florida. They go with a White House official to examine the fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Florida contractor takes out a tape measure and does some measuring, then works some figures with a pencil. “Well,” he says, “I figure the job will run about $900: $400 for materials, $400 for my crew and $100 profit for me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Tennessee contractor also does some measuring and figuring, then says, I can do this job for $700: $300 for materials, $300 for my crew and $100 profit for me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The New Jersey contractor doesn’t measure or figure, but leans over to the White House official and whispers, “$2,700.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The official, incredulous, says, “You didn’t even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The New Jersey contractor whispers back, “$1,000 for me, $1,000 for you, and we hire the guy from Tennessee to fix the fence.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Done!” replies the government official&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4952422878845244838?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4952422878845244838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4952422878845244838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4952422878845244838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4952422878845244838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/government-contracting.html' title='Government Contracting'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4606716304723782636</id><published>2007-05-17T08:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:41:09.544-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunk'/><title type='text'>Baptizing a Drunk</title><content type='html'>A man is stumbling through the woods totally drunk when he comes upon a preacher baptizing people in the river. The drunk walks into the water and subsequently bumps into the preacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The preacher turns around and is almost overcome by the smell of booze. Whereupon he asks the drunk, “Are you ready to find Jesus?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes I am” replies the drunk, so the preacher grabs him and dunks him in the river. He pulls him up and asks the drunk, “Brother have you found Jesus?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk replies, “No, I haven’t.” The preacher, shocked at the answer, dunks him into the water again, but for a bit longer this time. He pulls him out of the water and asks again, “Have you found Jesus, my brother?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk again answers, “No, I have not found Jesus.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time the preacher is at his wits end so he dunks the drunk in the water again, but this time he holds him down for about 30 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the drunk begins kicking his arms and legs, the preacher pulls him up. The preacher asks the drunk again, “For the love of God, have you found Jesus?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drunk wipes his eyes and catches his breath and says to the preacher, “Are you sure this is where he fell in?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4606716304723782636?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4606716304723782636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4606716304723782636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4606716304723782636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4606716304723782636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/baptizing-drunk.html' title='Baptizing a Drunk'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2248760677008746377</id><published>2007-05-16T08:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:39:14.378-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Johnny'/><title type='text'>Part in a Play</title><content type='html'>Little Johnny’s dad picked him up from school to take him to a dental appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing the parts for the school play were supposed to be posted today, he asked his son if he got a part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Johnny enthusiastically announced that he’d gotten a part. “I play a man who’s been married for twenty years.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s great, son. Keep up the good work and before you know it they’ll be giving you a speaking part.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2248760677008746377?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2248760677008746377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2248760677008746377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2248760677008746377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2248760677008746377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/part-in-play.html' title='Part in a Play'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2563020547601291653</id><published>2007-05-15T08:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:37:08.294-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Church Donations</title><content type='html'>One Sunday, in counting the money in the weekly offering, the pastor of a small Florida church found a plain pink envelope containing $1000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened again the next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw a little old lady put the distinctive pink envelope in the plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her. “Ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate,” he stated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why yes,” she replied, “every week my son sends me money, and I give some of it to the church.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pastor replied, “That’s wonderful, how much does he send you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady said, “$10,000 a week.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pastor was amazed. “Your son is very successful. What does he do for a living?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He is a veterinarian,” she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That is an honorable profession,” the pastor said. “Where does he practice?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little old lady said proudly, “In Nevada. He has two cat houses in Las Vegas and one in Reno.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2563020547601291653?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2563020547601291653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2563020547601291653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2563020547601291653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2563020547601291653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/church-donations.html' title='Church Donations'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1424033399967938853</id><published>2007-05-14T08:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:35:33.321-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Johnny'/><title type='text'>Face Cream</title><content type='html'>Little Johnny watched, fascinated, as his mother gently rubbed cold cream on her face. “Why are you rubbing cold cream on your face, Mommy?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To make myself beautiful,” said his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, she began removing the cream with a tissue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s the matter?” asked Little Johnny. “Giving up?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1424033399967938853?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1424033399967938853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1424033399967938853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1424033399967938853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1424033399967938853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/face-cream.html' title='Face Cream'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7336084081525791249</id><published>2007-05-13T08:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:34:45.529-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Military Man</title><content type='html'>A crusty old Sergeant Major found himself at a gala event, hosted by the University of Memphis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no shortage of extremely young, idealistic ladies in attendance, one of whom approached the Sergeant Major for conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, “Excuse me, Sergeant Major, but you seem to be a very serious man. Is something bothering you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Negative, ma’am,” the Sergeant Major said, “Just serious by nature.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The young lady looked at his awards and decorations and said, “It looks like you have seen a lot of action.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sergeant Major’s short reply was, “Yes, ma’am, a lot of action.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation, said, “You know, you should lighten up a little. Relax and enjoy yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sergeant Major just stared at her in his serious manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the young lady said, “You know, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but when is the last time you kissed a woman?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sergeant Major looked at her and replied, “1955.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, she took a deep breath….looked into his eyes…took his head in her hands…and kissed him like there was no tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, she said, “Wow, you’re a great kisser!  You sure didn’t forget much since 1955!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sergeant Major, glancing at his watch, said in his matter-of-fact voice, “I hope not, it’s only 2130 now."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7336084081525791249?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7336084081525791249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7336084081525791249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7336084081525791249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7336084081525791249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/military-man.html' title='Military Man'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6273566924605419959</id><published>2007-05-12T08:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:16:51.493-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><title type='text'>Blonde Social Studies</title><content type='html'>The social studies teacher talked about today's headlines. In the first row a blonde student simply stared into space ignoring the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However when the teacher started to discuss the article where three Brazilian soldiers were killed in a bus accident, all of the color from the blonde's student's face. Then she collapsed onto her desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concerned for the student, the teacher walked over to the blonde and asked "Are you all right? Is there something I can do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde composed herself and asked, “How many is a brazillion?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6273566924605419959?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6273566924605419959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6273566924605419959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6273566924605419959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6273566924605419959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/blonde-social-studies.html' title='Blonde Social Studies'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-5878330789393309833</id><published>2007-05-11T08:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:05:09.151-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><title type='text'>Heavenly Baseball</title><content type='html'>One day the devil called up St. Peter and challenged him to a baseball game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay,” St. Peter said, “But you know we have all the great players up here in Heaven.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’ll lose anyway,” the devil said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t be foolish,” St. Peter replied. “We’re sure to win. Why we have Dizzy Dean, Christy Mathewson, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Jackie Robinson and Mickey Mantle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know,” the devil interrupted, “But we have all the umpires!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-5878330789393309833?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5878330789393309833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=5878330789393309833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5878330789393309833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5878330789393309833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/heavenly-baseball.html' title='Heavenly Baseball'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2381042491430274233</id><published>2007-05-10T08:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:03:41.321-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Johnny'/><title type='text'>The Baby With No Ears</title><content type='html'>Little Johnny’s next-door neighbor had a baby. Unfortunately, the little baby was born with no ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they arrived home from the hospital, the parents invited Little Johnny’s family to come over and see their new baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Johnny’s parents were very afraid their son would have a wise crack to say about the baby. So, Little Johnny’s dad had a long talk with Little Johnny before going to the neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;He said, “Now, son…that poor baby was born without any ears. I want you to be on your best behavior and not say one word about his ears, or I’m really going to spank your butt when we get back home.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I promise not to mention his ears at all,” said Little Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the neighbor’s home, Little Johnny leaned over the crib and said, “Oh, what a beautiful little baby!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother, who had braced herself for Johnny’s comment, was pleasantly surprised and said, “Thank you very much, Little Johnny.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then said, “This baby has perfect little hands and perfect little feet. Why, just look at his pretty little eyes! Did his doctor say he can see well?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother, hesitantly replies “Why, yes… his doctor said he has 20/20 vision, why do you ask?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Johnny said, “Well, it’s a good thing, cause he’d be in deep trouble if he needed to wear glasses!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2381042491430274233?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2381042491430274233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2381042491430274233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2381042491430274233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2381042491430274233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/baby-with-no-ears.html' title='The Baby With No Ears'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3768697785534905002</id><published>2007-05-09T07:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T07:59:34.712-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Management'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Late For Work</title><content type='html'>Tom was in his early 50s, retired and started a second career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, he just couldn’t seem to get to work on time. Every day, he was five, 10, 15 minutes late. But, he was a good worker and real sharp, so the boss was confused about how to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, one day he called Tom into his office for a talk. “Tom, I have to tell you, I like your work ethic. You do a bang-up job, but your being late so often is quite bothersome.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, I know boss and I am working on it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well good, you are a team player. That’s what I like to hear. It’s odd though, your coming in late. I know you’re retired from the Air Force. What did they say if you came in late there”?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They said, ‘Good morning, General.’”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3768697785534905002?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3768697785534905002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3768697785534905002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3768697785534905002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3768697785534905002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/late-for-work.html' title='Late For Work'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4437932385190552135</id><published>2007-05-08T07:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T07:55:33.542-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>Funnies</title><content type='html'>1. Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love and got married.  The ceremony wasn't much, but the reception was excellent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  A jumper cable walks into a bar.  The bartender says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Two peanuts walk into a bar, and one was a salted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  A dyslexic man walks into a bra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says: "A beer please, and one for the road."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Two cannibals are eating a clown.  One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  "Doc, I can't stop singing 'The Green, Green Grass of Home.'" "That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome" "Is it common?" Well, "It's Not Unusual." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Two cows are standing next to each other in a field.  Daisy says to Dolly, "I was artificially inseminated this morning." "I don't believe you," says Dolly. "It's true, no bull!" exclaims Daisy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  An invisible man marries an invisible woman.  The kids were nothing to look at either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Deja Moo: The feeling that you've heard this bull before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.  I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.  I went to a seafood disco last week...and pulled a mussel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.  What do you call a fish with no eyes?  A fsh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.  Two fish swim into a concrete wall.  The one turns to the other and says "Dam!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.  Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft.  Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.  A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories.  After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse  "But why," they asked, as they moved off.  "Because", he said, "I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer!"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17  A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption.  One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother.  Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal.  Her husband responds, "They're twins!  If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.  Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet.  He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath.  This made him ..  A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4437932385190552135?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4437932385190552135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4437932385190552135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4437932385190552135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4437932385190552135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/funnies.html' title='Funnies'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-5432274864231285309</id><published>2007-05-07T07:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T07:53:06.831-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Government'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A guy goes to the Post Office to apply for a job.&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;The interviewer asks him, " Have you been in the service?"&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;Yes," he says. "I was in the armed forces for three years"&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;The interviewer says, "That will give you extra points toward employment" and then asks, "Are you disabled in any way?"&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;The guy says, "Yes, 100%. A mortar round exploded near me and blew my testicles off."&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;The interviewer tells the guy, "OK I can hire you right now. The hours are from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM, You can start tomorrow. Come in at 10:00 AM."&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;The guy is puzzled and says, "If the hours are from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM then why do you want me to come in at 10:00 A.M. ?"&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;"This is a government job", the interviewer says. "For the first two hours we stand around scratching our balls.  No point in you coming in for that."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-5432274864231285309?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/5432274864231285309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=5432274864231285309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5432274864231285309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/5432274864231285309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/guy-goes-to-post-office-to-apply-for.html' title=''/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-9033589504507979493</id><published>2007-05-06T07:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T07:51:20.785-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Canceling Credit Cards</title><content type='html'>A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her for February andMarch for their annual service charges on her credit card, and added late fees and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00, now somewhere around $60.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A family member placed a call to Citibank. Here is the exchange:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "I am calling to tell you she died in January."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Maybe, you should turn it over to collections."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Either report her account to frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Excuse me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supervisor gets on the phone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you, she died in January."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "The account was never closed and late fees and charges still&lt;br /&gt;apply." (This must be a phrase taught by the bank!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: (Stammer) "Are you her lawyer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew." (Lawyer info given.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Sure." (Fax number is given.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they get the fax:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Our system just isn't set up for death. I don't know what more Ican do to help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. I don't think she will care."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply." (What is wrong with these people?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "That might help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Citibank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Member: "What do you do with dead people on your planet?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-9033589504507979493?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9033589504507979493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=9033589504507979493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9033589504507979493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9033589504507979493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/canceling-credit-cards.html' title='Canceling Credit Cards'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6390529914830684887</id><published>2007-05-05T07:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T07:48:30.698-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Old Lady'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senior Citizen'/><title type='text'>Be Careful Around Old People</title><content type='html'>A tour bus driver is driving with a bus load &lt;br /&gt;Of seniors down a highway&lt;br /&gt;When he is tapped on his shoulder by a little old lady.&lt;br /&gt;She offers him a handful of peanuts,  &lt;br /&gt;Which he gratefully munches up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about 15 minutes, she taps him on his shoulder &lt;br /&gt;Again and she hands him another handful of peanuts.  &lt;br /&gt;She repeats this gesture about five more times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she is about to hand him another batch again &lt;br /&gt;He asks the little old lady, &lt;br /&gt;" why don't   you eat the peanuts yourself?".&lt;br /&gt;"We can't chew them because we've no teeth", she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The puzzled driver asks, &lt;br /&gt;"Why do you buy them then?"&lt;br /&gt;The old lady replied,  &lt;br /&gt;"We just love the chocolate around them."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6390529914830684887?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6390529914830684887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6390529914830684887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6390529914830684887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6390529914830684887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/be-careful-around-old-people.html' title='Be Careful Around Old People'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2879741826958501617</id><published>2007-05-04T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T21:33:37.319-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senior Citizen'/><title type='text'>Over Sixty?</title><content type='html'>Q: Where can women over the age of 60 find young, sexy men, who are interested in them?&lt;br /&gt;A: Try a bookstore under fiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What can a man do while his wife is going through menopause?&lt;br /&gt;A: Keep busy. If you're handy with tools, you can finish the basement. When you are done you will have a place to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How can you increase the heart rate of your 60 + year old husband?&lt;br /&gt;A: Tell him you're pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: How can you avoid spotting a wrinkle every time you walk by a mirror?&lt;br /&gt;A: The next time you're in front of a mirror, take off your glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Why should 60+ year old people use valet parking?&lt;br /&gt;A: Valets don't forget where they park your car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Is it common for 60+ year olds to have problems with short term memory storage?&lt;br /&gt;A: Storing memory is not a problem, retrieving it is a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: As people age, do they sleep more soundly?&lt;br /&gt;A: Yes, but usually in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: Where do 60+ year olds look for fashionable glasses?&lt;br /&gt;A: Their foreheads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What is the most common remark made by 60+ year olds when they enter antique stores?&lt;br /&gt;A: "I remember these".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2879741826958501617?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2879741826958501617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2879741826958501617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2879741826958501617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2879741826958501617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/over-sixty.html' title='Over Sixty?'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4373168527025206529</id><published>2007-05-03T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:40:25.279-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Management'/><title type='text'>Now to Classify a New Employee</title><content type='html'>1. Put 400 bricks in a closed room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Put your new hires in the room and close the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Leave them alone and come back after 6 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Then analyze the situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. If they are counting the bricks, put them in the Accounting Department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b. If they are recounting them, put them in Auditing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c. If they have messed up the whole place with the bricks, put them in Engineering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;d. If they are arranging the bricks in some strange order, put them in Planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e. If they are throwing the bricks at each other, put them in Operations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;f. If they are sleeping, put them in Security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;g. If they have broken the bricks into pieces, put them in Information Technology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;h. If they are sitting idle, put them in Human Resources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i. If they say they have tried different combinations, they are looking for more, yet not a brick has been moved, put them in Sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;j. If they have already left for the day, put them in Management.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k. If they are staring out of the window, put them in Strategic Planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;l. If they are talking to each other, and not a single brick has been moved, congratulate them and put them in Top Management.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;m. Finally, if they have surrounded themselves with bricks in such a way that they can neither be seen nor heard from, put them in Congress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4373168527025206529?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4373168527025206529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4373168527025206529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4373168527025206529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4373168527025206529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/now-to-classify-new-employee.html' title='Now to Classify a New Employee'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3133063500255546209</id><published>2007-05-02T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:38:30.737-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><title type='text'>T.G.I.F. vs S.H.I.T.</title><content type='html'>A business man got on an elevator. When he entered, there was a blonde already inside who greeted him with a bright, "T-G-I-F." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled at the blonde and replied, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked puzzled, and repeated, "T-G-I-F," more slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He again answered, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde was trying to keep it friendly, so, she smiled her biggest smile and said as sweetly as possibly, "T-G-I-F."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man smiled back to her and once again, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exasperated blonde finally decided to explain, "'T-G-I-F' means 'Thank Goodness It's Friday.' Get it duuhhh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man answered, "'S-H-I-T' means "Sorry, Honey, It's Thursday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3133063500255546209?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3133063500255546209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3133063500255546209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3133063500255546209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3133063500255546209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/tgif-vs-shit.html' title='T.G.I.F. vs S.H.I.T.'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4116257986946519355</id><published>2007-05-01T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:37:01.023-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><title type='text'>The Zebra</title><content type='html'>A Zebra dies and arrives at the Pearly Gates. As he enters, he asks St.Peter, "I have a question that's haunted me all of my days on earth. Am I white with black stripes, or am I black with white stripes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St Peter said, "That's a question only God can answer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the zebra went off in search of God. When he found Him, the zebra asked, "God,&lt;br /&gt;please - I must know. Am I white with black stripes, or am I black with white stripes?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;God simply replied "You are what you are." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The zebra returned to see St. Peter once more, who asked him, "Well, did God straighten out your query for you? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"The zebra looked puzzled. "No sir, God simply said, You are what you are"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter smiled and said to the zebra, "Well then, there you are. You are white with&lt;br /&gt;blackstripes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The zebra asked St. Peter, "How do you know that for certain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because," said St. Peter, "If you were black with white stripes, God would have said, "You is what you is".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4116257986946519355?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4116257986946519355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4116257986946519355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4116257986946519355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4116257986946519355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/zebra.html' title='The Zebra'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4392174560317052107</id><published>2007-04-30T19:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:35:19.738-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Management'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Why Sentence structure is so important..</title><content type='html'>The boss had to fire somebody, and he narrowed it down to one of two people, Debra or Jack. It was a difficult decision because they were both excellent workers.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He decided he would fire the first one who used the water cooler the next morning.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Debra came to work the next morning with a horrible hangover from partying most of the night before.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She went to the cooler to take an aspirin. The boss approached her and said: "Debra, I've never needed to do this before but I have to lay you or Jack off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Could you jack off?" she says. "I feel like shit today."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4392174560317052107?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4392174560317052107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4392174560317052107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4392174560317052107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4392174560317052107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-sentence-structure-is-so-important.html' title='Why Sentence structure is so important..'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-694001815456618875</id><published>2007-04-29T19:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:34:05.001-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Nude Runner</title><content type='html'>A woman was having a daytime affair while her husband was at work. One rainy day she was in bed with her boyfriend when, to her horror, she heard her husband's car pull into the driveway.  "Oh my God - Hurry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grab your clothes and jump out the window.  My husband's home early!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't jump out the window. It's raining out there!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If my husband catches us in here, he'll kill us both!" she replied. He's got a hot temper and a gun, so the rain is the least of your problems!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the boyfriend scoots out of bed, grabs his clothes and jumps out the window! As he ran down the street in the pouring rain, he quickly discovered he had run right into the middle of the town's annual marathon, so he started running along beside the others, about 300 of them. Being naked, with his clothes tucked under his arm, he tried to blend in as best he could. After a little while a small group of runners who had been watching him with some curiosity, jogged closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you always run in the nude?" one asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes!" he replied, gasping for air, "It feels so wonderfully free!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another runner moved a long side. "Do you always run carrying your clothes with you under your arm?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, "yes" our friend answered breathlessly. "That way I can get dressed right at the end of the run and get in my car to go home!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a third runner cast his eyes a little lower and asked, "Do you always  wear a condom when you run?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope...just when it's raining."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-694001815456618875?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/694001815456618875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=694001815456618875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/694001815456618875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/694001815456618875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/nude-runner.html' title='Nude Runner'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3125656425580883588</id><published>2007-04-28T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:29:06.765-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>California in 1850</title><content type='html'>Do you know what happened this week back in 1850, in California?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;California became a state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The State had no electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The State had no money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost everyone spoke Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were gunfights in the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, it was just like California today, except the women had real boobs and the men didn't hold hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3125656425580883588?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3125656425580883588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3125656425580883588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3125656425580883588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3125656425580883588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/california-in-1850.html' title='California in 1850'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6105879005591615377</id><published>2007-04-27T19:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:26:21.576-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Threesome</title><content type='html'>I met an older woman at a club last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was an all right sort for 57, we drank a bit, had a bit of a chat and she asked if I'd ever had the sportsman's double, a mother and daughter threesome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drank a bit more, then she says that tonight was my lucky night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to her place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put the hall light on and shouted upstairs: "Hey Mom! You still awake?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6105879005591615377?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6105879005591615377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6105879005591615377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6105879005591615377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6105879005591615377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/threesome.html' title='Threesome'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4934175887718569432</id><published>2007-04-26T19:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:25:26.699-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IRS'/><title type='text'>Taxes</title><content type='html'>What Happened? At first I thought this was funny...then I realized the awful &lt;br /&gt;truth of it. Be sure to read all the way to the end! Tax his land, Tax his &lt;br /&gt;bed, Tax the table At which he's fed. Tax his tractor, Tax his mule, Teach &lt;br /&gt;him taxes Are the rule. Tax his cow, Tax his goat, Tax his pants, Tax his &lt;br /&gt;coat. Tax his ties, Tax his shirt, Tax his work, Tax his dirt. Tax his &lt;br /&gt;tobacco, Tax his drink, Tax him if he Tries to think. Tax his cigars, Tax &lt;br /&gt;his beers, If he cries, then Tax his tears. Tax his car, Tax his gas, Find &lt;br /&gt;other ways To tax his ass Tax all he has Then let him know That you won't be &lt;br /&gt;done Till he has no dough. When he screams and hollers, Then tax&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;him some more, Tax him till He's good and sore. Then tax his coffin, Tax his &lt;br /&gt;grave, Tax the sod in Which he's laid. Put these words upon his tomb, " &lt;br /&gt;Taxes drove me to my doom.." When he's gone, Do not relax, Its time to apply &lt;br /&gt;The inheritance tax. Accounts Receivable Tax Building Permit Tax CDL license &lt;br /&gt;Tax Cigarette Tax Corporate Income Tax Dog License Tax Federal Income Tax &lt;br /&gt;Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA) Fishing License Tax Food License Tax, Fuel &lt;br /&gt;permit tax Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon) Hunting License Tax &lt;br /&gt;Inheritance Tax Interest expense Inventory tax IRS Interest Charges IRS &lt;br /&gt;Penalties (tax on top of tax) Liquor Tax Luxury Taxes Marriage License Tax &lt;br /&gt;Medicare Tax Property Tax Real Estate Tax Service charge taxes Social &lt;br /&gt;Security Tax Road usage taxes Sales Tax Recreational Vehicle Tax School Tax &lt;br /&gt;State Income Tax State Unemployment Tax (SUTA) Telephone federal excise tax &lt;br /&gt;Telephone federal universal service fee tax Telephone federal, state and &lt;br /&gt;local surcharge taxes Telephone minimum usage surcharge tax Telephone &lt;br /&gt;recurring and non-recurring charges tax Telephone state and lo cal tax &lt;br /&gt;Telephone usage charge tax Utility Taxes Vehicle License Registration Tax &lt;br /&gt;Vehicle Sales Tax Watercraft registration Tax&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well Permit Tax Workers Compensation Tax COMMENTS: Not one of these taxes &lt;br /&gt;existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world. &lt;br /&gt;We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the &lt;br /&gt;world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids. What happened? And I still &lt;br /&gt;have to "press 1" for English&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4934175887718569432?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4934175887718569432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4934175887718569432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4934175887718569432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4934175887718569432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/taxes.html' title='Taxes'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4133544918326937823</id><published>2007-04-25T19:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:23:31.944-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>BBQ Rules</title><content type='html'>We are about to enter the summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity, as it's the only type of cooking a 'real' man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Routine... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) The woman buys the food.&lt;br /&gt;(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.&lt;br /&gt;(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here comes the important part:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More routine.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.&lt;br /&gt;(6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Important again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(7) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More routine.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.&lt;br /&gt;(9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most important of all: &lt;br /&gt;(10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.&lt;br /&gt;(11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4133544918326937823?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4133544918326937823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4133544918326937823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4133544918326937823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4133544918326937823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/bbq-rules.html' title='BBQ Rules'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4776747912667868218</id><published>2007-04-24T19:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:22:16.265-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Location'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Memphis Blonde</title><content type='html'>A young blonde woman in Memphis was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the Mississippi River. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went down to the docks and was about to leap into the frigid water when a handsome young sailor saw her tottering on the edge of the dock, crying. He took pity on her and said, "Look, you have so much to live for. I'm off to Europe in the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good care of you and bring you food every day." Moving closer, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and added, "I'll keep you happy and you'll keep me happy." The girl nodded yes. After all, what did she have to lose? Perhaps a fresh start in Europe would give her life new meaning. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece Of Fruit, and they made passionate love until dawn. Three weeks later, during a routine inspection, she was discovered by the Captain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?" the captain asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "I get food and a trip to Europe, and he's screwing me." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"He certainly is," the captain said. "This is the Memphis Queen, and we never leave Memphis."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4776747912667868218?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4776747912667868218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4776747912667868218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4776747912667868218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4776747912667868218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/memphis-blonde.html' title='Memphis Blonde'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3625050732582043733</id><published>2007-04-23T19:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:14:52.651-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>Calmness in our Lives</title><content type='html'>By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace.  Dr. Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished and, before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, and remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, a bag of Doritos and a box of chocolates.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You have no idea how freaking good I feel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3625050732582043733?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3625050732582043733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3625050732582043733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3625050732582043733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3625050732582043733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/calmness-in-our-lives.html' title='Calmness in our Lives'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7548171913123260362</id><published>2007-04-22T19:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:13:39.167-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redneck'/><title type='text'>Ghost Sex</title><content type='html'>A professor at the  University of Kentucky was giving a lecture on the supernatural.&lt;br /&gt;To get a feel for his audience, he asks, "How many people here believe in ghosts?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 90 students raise their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, that's a good start.Out of those of you who believe in ghosts, do any of you think you have seen a ghost?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 40 students raise their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's really good. I'm really glad you take this seriously. Has anyone here ever talked to a ghost?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 15 students raise their hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone here ever touched a ghost?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three students raise their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's fantastic. Now let me ask you one  question further...Have any of you ever made love to a ghost?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way in the back, Bubba raises his  hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor takes off his glasses, and says "Son, all the years I've been giving this lecture, no one  has ever claimed to have made love to a ghost.  You've got to come up here and tell us about your experience."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big redneck student replied with a nod and a grin, and began  to make his way up to the podium. When he reached the front of  the room, the professor asks, "So, Bubba, tell us what it's like to have sex with a  ghost?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba replied, "Shiiiit!! From way  back there I thought you said goats."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7548171913123260362?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7548171913123260362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7548171913123260362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7548171913123260362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7548171913123260362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/professor-at-university-of-kentucky-was.html' title='Ghost Sex'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7856023788905431807</id><published>2007-04-21T19:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:10:29.991-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>A Funny Parallel</title><content type='html'>I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food. But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue. Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table...everywhere. Then some of the birds turned mean: They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket. And others birds were boisterous and loud: They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food. After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio. Soon, the back yard was like it used to be...quite, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now lets see...our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, free education and allows anyone born here to be a automatic citizen. Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families: you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor: your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English: Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to press "one" to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than "Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties. Maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7856023788905431807?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7856023788905431807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7856023788905431807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7856023788905431807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7856023788905431807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/funny-parallel.html' title='A Funny Parallel'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6208881104859847416</id><published>2007-04-20T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:09:03.521-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It was George the Mailman's last day on the job after 35 years of carrying the mail through all kinds of weather to the same neighborhood. When he arrived at the first house on his route, he was greeted by the whole family who congratulated him and sent him on his way with a tidy gift envelope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the second house, they presented him with a box of fine cigars. The folks at the third house handed him a selection of terrific fishing lures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the fourth house, he was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful blonde woman in a revealing negligee. She took him by the hand, gently led him through the door, which she closed behind him, and took him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he had enough, they went downstairs and she fixed him a giant breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles and fresh squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied, she poured him a cup of steaming coffee. As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking out from under the cup's bottom edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "But what's the dollar for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," she said, "Last night, I told my husband that today would be your last day, and that we should do something special for you. I asked him what to give you. He said, 'Screw him. Give him a dollar.'  The breakfast was my idea."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6208881104859847416?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6208881104859847416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6208881104859847416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6208881104859847416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6208881104859847416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-was-george-mailmans-last-day-on-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1938309703997172130</id><published>2007-04-19T19:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:06:46.122-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Making A Baby</title><content type='html'>The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now; The man should be here soon." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to...'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You &lt;br /&gt;can really spread out there." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn 't work out for Harry and me!" "Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My, that's a lot!" gasped Mrs. Smith. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I'm afraid so I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Four and five deep?" said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother was constantly squealing and yelling-I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally!, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, ...equipment?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's true, Ma'am, yes.. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tripod?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Smith fainted.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1938309703997172130?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1938309703997172130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1938309703997172130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1938309703997172130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1938309703997172130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/making-baby.html' title='Making A Baby'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7103778538551679982</id><published>2007-04-18T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T19:00:26.532-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IRS'/><title type='text'>The Audit</title><content type='html'>The IRS decides to audit Ralph, and summons him to the IRS office. The IRS auditor is not surprised when Ralph shows up with his attorney. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The auditor says, "Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it," says Ralph. "How about a demonstration?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor thinks for a moment and said, "Okay. Go ahead." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor thinks a moment and says, "No way! It's a bet." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph removes his glass eye and bites it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor's jaw drops. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph says, "Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor can tell Ralph isn't blind, so he takes the bet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph removes his dentures and bites his good eye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Ralph's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Want to go double or nothing?" Ralph asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this guy can manage that stunt so he agrees again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can't make the s tream reach the wastebasket on other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the desk. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Ralph's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Are you okay?" the auditor asks. "Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Ralph told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7103778538551679982?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7103778538551679982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7103778538551679982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7103778538551679982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7103778538551679982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/audit.html' title='The Audit'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8302625343375610300</id><published>2007-04-17T18:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T18:47:49.291-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>This Is What Love Is All About</title><content type='html'>It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 am, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour &lt;br /&gt;before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation I asked him if he had a doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat &lt;br /&gt;breakfast with his wife.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer Disease. As we talked, and I finished dressing his wound, I asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised, and asked him. "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He smiled as he patted my hand and said. "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;True love is neither physical, nor romantic.  True love is an acceptance of all &lt;br /&gt;that is, has been, will be, and will not be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8302625343375610300?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8302625343375610300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8302625343375610300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8302625343375610300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8302625343375610300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/this-is-what-love-is-all-about.html' title='This Is What Love Is All About'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3042243101479798772</id><published>2007-04-16T11:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:45:53.639-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>Signs of the Times</title><content type='html'>Cocktail lounge, Norway:&lt;br /&gt;LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a Budapest zoo:&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor's office, Rome:&lt;br /&gt;SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel, Acapulco:&lt;br /&gt;THE MANAGER HAS PERSONALLY PASSED ALL THE WATER SERVED HERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner, Japan:&lt;br /&gt;COOLES AND HEATES: IF YOU WANT CONDITION OF WARM AIR IN YOUR ROOM PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Car rental brochure, Tokyo:&lt;br /&gt;WHEN PASSENGER OF FOOT HEAVE IN SIGHT, TOOTLE THE HORN. TRUMPET HIM MELODIOUSLY AT FIRST, BUT IF HE STILL OBSTACLES YOUR PASSAGE THEN TOOTLE HIM WITH VIGOUR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign in men's rest room in Japan:&lt;br /&gt;TO STOP LEAK TURN COCK TO THE RIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Nairobi restaurant:&lt;br /&gt;CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE OUGHT TO SEE THE MANAGER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an Athi River highway:&lt;br /&gt;TAKE NOTICE: WHEN THIS SIGN IS UNDER WATER, THIS ROAD IS IMPASSABLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a poster at Kencom&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU AN ADULT THAT CANNOT READ? IF SO, WE CAN HELP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sign seen on an automatic restroom hand dryer&lt;br /&gt;DO NOT ACTIVATE WITH WET HANDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Pumwani maternity ward:&lt;br /&gt;NO CHILDREN ALLOWED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a cemetery:&lt;br /&gt;PERSONS ARE PROHIBITED FROM PICKING FLOWERS FROM ANY BUT THEIR OWN GRAVES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign in Japanese public bath:&lt;br /&gt;FOREIGN GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO PULL COCK IN TUB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tokyo hotel's rules and regulations:&lt;br /&gt;GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SMOKE OR DO OTHER DISGUSTING BEHAVIOURS IN BED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Tokyo bar:&lt;br /&gt;SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Bangkok temple:&lt;br /&gt;IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER A WOMAN EVEN A FOREIGNER IF DRESSED AS A MAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel elevator, Paris:&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE LEAVE YOUR VALUES AT THE FRONT DESK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel, Yugoslavia:&lt;br /&gt;THE FLATTENING OF UNDERWEAR WITH PLEASURE IS THE JOB OF THE CHAMBERMAID.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel, Japan:&lt;br /&gt;YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sign posted in Germany's Black Forest:&lt;br /&gt;IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN ON OUR BLACK FOREST CAMPING SITE THAT PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SEX, FOR INSTANCE, MEN AND WOMEN, LIVE TOGETHER IN ONE TENT UNLESS THEY ARE MARRIED WITH EACH OTHER FOR THIS PURPOSE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist&lt;br /&gt;TEETH EXTRACTED BY THE LATEST METHODISTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A laundry in Rome:&lt;br /&gt;LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tourist agency, Czechoslovakia&lt;br /&gt;TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advertisement for donkey rides, Thailand:&lt;br /&gt;WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Airline ticket office, Copenhagen:&lt;br /&gt;WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the door of a Moscow hotel room:&lt;br /&gt;IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST VISIT TO THE USSR, YOU ARE WELCOME TO IT&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3042243101479798772?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3042243101479798772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3042243101479798772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3042243101479798772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3042243101479798772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/cocktail-lounge-norway-ladies-are.html' title='Signs of the Times'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2719649071516003765</id><published>2007-04-15T11:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T11:55:23.671-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>In Line with a Five Year Old</title><content type='html'>A mother took her five-year-old son with her to the bank on a busy lunchtime. They got behind a very fat woman wearing a business suit complete with pager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they waited patiently, the little boy said loudly, "Gee, she's fat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother bent down and whispered in the little boys ear to be quiet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of minutes passed by and the little boy spread his hands as far as they would go and announced; "I'll bet her butt is this wide!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fat woman turns around and glares at the little boy. The mother gave him a good telling off, and told him to be quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a brief lull, the large woman reached the front of the line. Just then, her pager begin to emit a beep, beep,beep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy yells out, "Run for your life, she's backing up!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2719649071516003765?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2719649071516003765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2719649071516003765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2719649071516003765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2719649071516003765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/in-line-with-five-year-old.html' title='In Line with a Five Year Old'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8409897096807460354</id><published>2007-04-14T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T11:11:48.350-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cowboy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Hang On Cowboy</title><content type='html'>Two cowboys were out on the range talking about their favorite sexual positions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one said, "I think I enjoy the rodeo position most." "I don't think I've ever heard of that one," said the other cowboy. "What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it's where you get your wife down on all fours and you mount her from behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you reach around and cup each one of her breasts in your hands and whisper in her ear, 'Boy, these feel just like your sister's.' "Then you try and stay on for 8 seconds."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8409897096807460354?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8409897096807460354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8409897096807460354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8409897096807460354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8409897096807460354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/hang-on-cowboy.html' title='Hang On Cowboy'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6593815254180783889</id><published>2007-04-13T11:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T11:10:04.896-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Tinkle Tinkle</title><content type='html'>A woman, pregnant with triplets, was walking down the street when a masked robber ran out of a bank and shot her three times in the stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily the babies were OK. The surgeon decided to leave the bullets in because it was too risky to operate. She gave birth to two healthy daughters and a healthy son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All was fine for 16 years, and then one daughter walked into the room in tears. "What's wrong?" asked the mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came out," replied the daughter. The mother told her it was okay and explained what happened 16 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week later the second daughter walked into the room in tears. "Mom, I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came out." Again the mother told her not to worry and explained what happened 16 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later her son walked into the room in tears. "It's okay," said the Mom. "I know what happened. You were taking a tinkle and a bullet came out"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the boy. "I was playing with myself and I shot the dog"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6593815254180783889?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6593815254180783889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6593815254180783889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6593815254180783889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6593815254180783889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/tinkle-tinkle.html' title='Tinkle Tinkle'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1462860120195185666</id><published>2007-04-12T11:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T11:08:07.898-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redneck'/><title type='text'>How to Install a Home Security System</title><content type='html'>1. Go to a second-hand store and buy a pair of men's used size 14-16 work boots.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. Place them on your front porch, along with several empty beer cans, a copy of Guns and Ammo magazine and several NRA magazines.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. Put a few giant dog dishes next to the boots and magazine.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. Leave a note on your door that reads: Hey Bubba, Big Jim, Duke and Slim, I went to the gun shop for more ammunition. Back in an hour. Don't mess with the pit bulls ~ they attacked the mailman this morning and messed him up real bad. I don't think Killer took part in it, but it was hard to tell from all the blood.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;PS - I locked all four of 'em in the house . . . Better wait outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1462860120195185666?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1462860120195185666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1462860120195185666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1462860120195185666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1462860120195185666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-to-install-home-security-system.html' title='How to Install a Home Security System'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3224361835446672271</id><published>2007-04-11T14:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:48:22.671-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Polish Joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Word Play'/><title type='text'>The Polish Divorce</title><content type='html'>A Polish man moved to the USA and married an American girl. Although his English was far from perfect, they got along very well until one day he rushed into a lawyer's office and asked him if he could arrange a divorce for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer said that getting a divorce would depend on the circumstances, and asked him the following questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you any grounds?&lt;br /&gt;    Yes, an acre and half and nice little home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I mean what is the foundation of this case?&lt;br /&gt;    It made of concrete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think you understand. Does either of you have a real grudge?&lt;br /&gt;    No, we have carport, and not need one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean. What are your relations like?&lt;br /&gt;    All my relations still in Poland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any infidelity in your marriage?&lt;br /&gt;    We have hi-fidelity stereo and good DVD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does your wife beat you up?&lt;br /&gt;    No, I always up before her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is your wife a nagger?&lt;br /&gt;    No, she white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you want this divorce?&lt;br /&gt;    She is going to kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes you think that?&lt;br /&gt;    I got proof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of proof?&lt;br /&gt;    She going to poison me. She buy a bottle at drugstore and put on shelf in bathroom. I can read, and it say: "Polish Remover."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3224361835446672271?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3224361835446672271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3224361835446672271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3224361835446672271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3224361835446672271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/polish-divorce.html' title='The Polish Divorce'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-45101775901687398</id><published>2007-04-10T14:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:44:11.048-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Location'/><title type='text'>Lutheran Air</title><content type='html'>ANNOUNCEMENT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VE ARE PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE LUTRAN AIR IS NOW OPERATING FROM DULUT AIRPORT.&lt;br /&gt;YA SHURE, YA BETCHA! DIS IS DA LATEST AIR SERVICE TO &lt;br /&gt;SPROUT UP IN MINNYSOTA.  ALSO SERVING VISCONSIN, NORT AND SOUT DAKOTA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are travelin soon, consider Lutran Air, da no-frills airline. &lt;br /&gt;You're all in da same boat on Lutran Air, where flyin is a upliftin &lt;br /&gt;experience. Dere is no first class on any Lutran Air flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meals are potluck.&lt;br /&gt;Rows 1-6, bring rolls;&lt;br /&gt;7-15, bring a salad;&lt;br /&gt;16-21, hot dish, and&lt;br /&gt;22-30, a dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basses and tenors please sit in da rear of da aircraft. Everyone is responsible for his or her own baggage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All fares are by free will-offereing and da plane will not land 'til da budget is met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pay attention now to your flight attendant, who will acquaint you wit da safety system aboard dis Lutran Air 599.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay den, listen up you guys. I'm only gonna say dis vonce. In da event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, I am frankly going &lt;br /&gt;to be real surprised and so vill Captain Olson, because we fly right around two tousand feet, so loss of cabin pressure would probably &lt;br /&gt;mean da Second Coming or something of dat nature, and I vouldn't bodar with doze liddle masks on da rubber tubes. You're gonna have bigger tings to vorry about den dat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yust stuff doze back up in dair little holes. Probably da masks fell out because of turbulence which, to be honest wit you, &lt;br /&gt;we're going to have quite a bit of at two tousand feet, sort a like driving across a plowed field, but after a while you get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In da event of a water landing, I'd say forget it. Start saying da Lord's Prayer and yust hope you get to da part about forgive &lt;br /&gt;us our sins as we forgive doze who sin against us, which some people say "trespass against us," which isn't right, but vut can you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da use of cell phones on da plane is strictly forbidden, not because day may confuse da plane's navigation system, which is &lt;br /&gt;seat of da pants all da way. No, it's because cell phones are a pain in da wazoo, and if God meant you to use a cell phone, He vould have put your mout on da side of your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ve start lunch right about noon and it's buffet style wit da coffee pot up front . Den ve'll have da hymn sing; hymnals are in &lt;br /&gt;da seat pocket in front of you. Don't take yours wit you when you go or I am going to be real upset and I am not kiddin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I'll say Grace.&lt;br /&gt;Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest&lt;br /&gt;and let deze gifts to us be blessed.&lt;br /&gt;Fadar, Son, and Holy Ghost,&lt;br /&gt;may we land in Dulut or pretty close. Amen!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-45101775901687398?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/45101775901687398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=45101775901687398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/45101775901687398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/45101775901687398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/lutheran-air.html' title='Lutheran Air'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7782099822629401163</id><published>2007-04-09T14:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:44:52.270-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Panties on a Plane</title><content type='html'>There were three black ladies getting ready to take a plane trip for the first time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first lady said, "I don't know bout y'al but I'm gunna wear me sum hot pink panties beefo I get on dat plane." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why you gonna wear dem fo?" the other two asked? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first replied, "Cause, if dat plane goes down and I'm out dare laying butt-up in a conefield, dey gonna find me first." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second lady said, "Well, I'm a-gonna wear me some floeesant orange panties." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why you gonna wear dem?" the others asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second lady answered, "Cause if dis hare plane is goin' down and I be floating butt-up in the oshun, dey can see me first." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third lady says, "Well, I'm not gonna wear any panties". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? No panties?" the others asked in disbelief. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third lady says, "Dat's right girlfriends, you hears me right. I ain't wearing any panties, cse if dis plane goes down, honey, dey always look for da black box first."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7782099822629401163?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7782099822629401163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7782099822629401163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7782099822629401163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7782099822629401163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2009/04/there-were-three-black-ladies-getting.html' title='Panties on a Plane'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-645995577613064689</id><published>2007-04-08T14:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:35:34.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton'/><title type='text'>The Soldier and Chelsea Clinton</title><content type='html'>Then there was the soldier who was talking to Chelsea Clinton.....she asked him about fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said there were only 3 things he was afraid of --Osama, Obama and Yo Mama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-645995577613064689?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/645995577613064689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=645995577613064689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/645995577613064689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/645995577613064689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/soldier-and-chelsea-clinton.html' title='The Soldier and Chelsea Clinton'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2920099295047684052</id><published>2007-04-07T14:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:34:17.609-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Surgery</title><content type='html'>A very sexually active woman tells her plastic surgeon that she wants her vaginal lips reduced in size because they were loose and floppy.&lt;br /&gt;Out of embarrassment she insisted that the surgery be kept a secret and the surgeon agreed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awakening from the anesthesia after the surgery she found three roses carefully placed beside her on the bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outraged, she immediately calls in the doctor. "I thought I asked you not to  tell anyone about my operation!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon told her he had carried out her wish for confidentiality and that the first rose was from him: "I felt sad because you went through this all by yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The second rose is from my nurse. She assisted me in the surgery and empathized because she had had the same procedure done some time ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what about the third rose?" she asked. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that rose is from a man upstairs in the burn unit. He wanted to thank you for his new ears."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2920099295047684052?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2920099295047684052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2920099295047684052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2920099295047684052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2920099295047684052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/surgery.html' title='The Surgery'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2484881317758543425</id><published>2007-04-06T14:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:31:19.276-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teacher'/><title type='text'>The Stuttering Cat</title><content type='html'>A teacher is explaining biology to her 4th grade students.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Human beings are the only animals that stutter", she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat who stuttered", she volunteered.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories could become, asked the girl to describe the incident.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", she began, "I was in the back yard with my kitty and the Rottweiler who lives next door got a running start and before we knew it, he jumped over the fence into our yard!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That must've been scary", said the teacher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It sure was", said the little girl. "My kitty went 'Fffff, Fffff, Fffff'...  And before he could say "Fuck," the Rottweiler ate him!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2484881317758543425?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2484881317758543425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2484881317758543425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2484881317758543425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2484881317758543425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/stuttering-cat.html' title='The Stuttering Cat'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-893139875502124377</id><published>2007-04-05T14:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:25:51.347-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bill Clinton'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>They grow up so fast!</title><content type='html'>This week we celebrated a special birthday.  Monica Lewinsky turned 31 this week.  Can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday she was crawling around the White House on her hands and knees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-893139875502124377?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/893139875502124377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=893139875502124377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/893139875502124377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/893139875502124377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/they-grow-up-so-fast.html' title='They grow up so fast!'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7221413256744910705</id><published>2007-04-04T14:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:24:33.285-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cowboy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Cowboy, The Indian and the Dog</title><content type='html'>A Cowboy meets an Indian herding sheep in the Black Hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Nice dog you got there. Mind if I speak to him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: "Dog no talk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Hey dog, how's it going?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog: "Doin' all right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: (Look of shock!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Is this Indian your owner?" (pointing at the Indian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog: "Yep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "How does he treat you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog: "Real good.  He walks me twice a day, feeds me great food and takes meto the lake once a week to play."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: (Look of total disbelief)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Mind if I talk to your horse?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: "Horse no talk."  (See where this is going? )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Hey horse, how's it going?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horse: "Cool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: (Extreme look of shock!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Is this your owner?" (pointing to the Indian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horse: "Yep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "How's he treat you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horse: "Pretty good, thanks for asking, he rides me brushes me down often, and keeps me in a lean-to to protect me from the weather."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: (Look of total amazement)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowboy: "Mind if I talk to your sheep?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian: "Sheep lie."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7221413256744910705?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7221413256744910705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7221413256744910705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7221413256744910705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7221413256744910705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/cowboy-indian-and-dog.html' title='The Cowboy, The Indian and the Dog'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7256540129072039695</id><published>2007-04-03T14:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T14:20:58.709-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Apple's Newest Product</title><content type='html'>Apple Computers announced today that it has developed a computer chip that can store and play music in women's breast implants. The iBoob will cost between $499 and $599. This is considered to be a major breakthrough, because women are always complaining about men staring at their breasts and not listening to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Apple, everyone is now happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7256540129072039695?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7256540129072039695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7256540129072039695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7256540129072039695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7256540129072039695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/apples-newest-product.html' title='Apple&apos;s Newest Product'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8524721127004524768</id><published>2007-04-02T05:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T05:57:58.725-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>Guys Beware!</title><content type='html'>Police are warning all men who frequently go to clubs, parties and local pubs to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from any woman. Many females use a date rape drug on the market called "Beer." The drug is found in liquid form and is available anywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, from taps and in large "kegs". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beer is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and have sex with them. A woman needs only to get a guy to consume a few units of Beer and then simply ask him home for no strings attached sex. Men are rendered helpless against this approach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several Beers, men will often succumb to the desires to perform sexual acts on horrific looking women whom they would never normally be attracted. After drinking Beer, men often awaken with only hazy memories of exactly what happened to them the night before, often with just a vague feeling that "something bad" occurred. At other times these unfortunate men are swindled out of their life's savings, in a familiar scam known as "a relationship." In extreme cases, the female may even be shrewd enough to entrap the unsuspecting male into a longer term form of servitude and punishment referred to as "marriage." Men are much more Susceptible to this scam! after Beer is administered and sex is offered by the predatory females.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please! Forward this warning to every male you know. If you fall victim to this "Beer" scam and the women administering it, there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly victimized men.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8524721127004524768?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8524721127004524768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8524721127004524768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8524721127004524768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8524721127004524768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/guys-beware.html' title='Guys Beware!'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-19110943289515353</id><published>2007-04-01T13:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T13:44:08.842-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Exercise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>A Week at the Gym</title><content type='html'>Dear Diary.&lt;br /&gt;For my sixty fifth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college tennis team 45 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My wife seemed plea sed with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MONDAY&lt;br /&gt;Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at t he health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, all though my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TUESDAY&lt;br /&gt;I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air -- then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEDNESDAY&lt;br /&gt;The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, She gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone inven t a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THURSDAY&lt;br /&gt;Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRIDAY&lt;br /&gt;I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if &lt;br /&gt;you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the Monther fucker barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SATURDAY&lt;br /&gt;Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUNDAY&lt;br /&gt;I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank God that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife (the bitch) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a vasectomy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-19110943289515353?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/19110943289515353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=19110943289515353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/19110943289515353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/19110943289515353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/04/week-at-gym.html' title='A Week at the Gym'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1698101427530827652</id><published>2007-03-03T11:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T11:52:00.847-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><title type='text'>Bar Stool Economics</title><content type='html'>Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.&lt;br /&gt;The fifth would pay $1.&lt;br /&gt;The sixth would pay $3.&lt;br /&gt;The seventh would pay $7.&lt;br /&gt;The eighth would pay $12.&lt;br /&gt;The ninth would pay $18.&lt;br /&gt;The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's what they decided to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until on day, the owner threw them a curve. "Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20."Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free.  But what about the other six men - the paying customers? How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?' They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33.  But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).&lt;br /&gt;The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33% savings).&lt;br /&gt;The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28% savings).&lt;br /&gt;The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).&lt;br /&gt;The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).&lt;br /&gt;The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I only got a dollar out of the $20," declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man," but he got $10!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a dollar, too. It's unfair that he got ten times more than I!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's true!!" shouted the seventh man. "Why should he get $10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.&lt;br /&gt;Professor of Economics&lt;br /&gt;University of Georgia&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;For those who understand, no explanation is needed. For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1698101427530827652?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1698101427530827652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1698101427530827652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1698101427530827652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1698101427530827652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/03/suppose-that-every-day-ten-men-go-out.html' title='Bar Stool Economics'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4617878521574941593</id><published>2007-03-02T11:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T11:54:11.982-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Two Men Down</title><content type='html'>U.S. Marine squad was marching north of Fallujah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road was an American Marine in a similar but less serious state. The Marine was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the squad leader asked the injured Marine what had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Marine reported, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and both took cover in the ditches along the road. "I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein is a miserable, lowlife scum bag, and he yelled back that Ted Kennedy is a good-for-nothing, fat, left wing liberal drunk. So I said that Osama Bin Ladin dress es and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian! He retaliated by yelling, Oh yeah? Well, so does Hillary Clinton!" "And, there we were, in the middle of the road, shaking hands, when a truck hit us"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4617878521574941593?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4617878521574941593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4617878521574941593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4617878521574941593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4617878521574941593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/03/two-men-down.html' title='Two Men Down'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-9065612505877556065</id><published>2007-03-01T20:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T20:38:02.903-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Management'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><title type='text'>Five Things To Say If You Get Caught Sleeping At Your Desk</title><content type='html'>5. "They told me at the Blood Bank this might happen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. "This is just a 15 minute power nap they raved about in the time management course you sent me to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. "Whew! Guess I left the top off the Whiteout. You probably got here just in time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. "Did you ever notice sound coming out of these keyboards when you put your ear down real close?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND THE NUMBER ONE THING TO SAY IF YOU GET CAUGHT SLEEPING AT YOUR DESK:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Raise your head slowly and say, "...in Jesus' name, Amen."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-9065612505877556065?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9065612505877556065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=9065612505877556065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9065612505877556065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9065612505877556065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/03/five-things-to-say-if-you-get-caught.html' title='Five Things To Say If You Get Caught Sleeping At Your Desk'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8659354753852276504</id><published>2007-02-28T15:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:49:13.569-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wal-Mart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Job Interview'/><title type='text'>The Fastest Thing</title><content type='html'>An office manager at the Wal-Mart in Charleston, NC was given the task of hiring an Individual to fill a job opening. After sorting through a stack of resumes he found four people who were equally qualified. He decided to call the four in and ask them only one question. Their answer would determine which of them would get the job.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The day came and as the four sat around the conference room table the interviewer asked ... "What is the fastest thing you know of?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Acknowledging the first man on his right, the man replied, "A THOUGHT."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It just pops into your head. There's no warning that it's on the way; it's just there....... A thought is the fastest thing I know of."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"That's very good!" replied the interviewer. "And now you sir?" he asked the second man.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Hmm.... Let me see. A blink! It comes and goes and you don't know that it ever happened. "A BLINK" is the fastest thing I know of."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Excellent!" said the interviewer. "The blink of an eye, that's a very popular cliché for speed."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He then turned to the third man who was contemplating his reply.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, out at my dad's ranch, you step out of the house and on the wall there's a light switch. When you flip that switch, way out across the pasture the light in the barn comes on in less than an instant. Yep, "TURNING ON A LIGHT" is the fastest thing I can think of.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interviewer was very impressed with the third answer and thought he had found his man. "It's hard to beat the speed of light" he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Turning to Bubba, the fourth and final man, the interviewer posed the same question&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Bubba replied, "After hearing the three previous answers, it's obvious to me that the fastest thing known is.... "DIARRHEA."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"WHAT!?" said the interviewer, stunned by the response.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh I can explain." said Old Bubba. "You see the other day I wasn't feeling so good, and I ran for the bathroom, . But, before I could THINK, BLINK, or TURN ON THE LIGHT ... I had already shit in my pants.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Old Bubba is the new "Greeter" at the Charleston Wal-Mart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8659354753852276504?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8659354753852276504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8659354753852276504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8659354753852276504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8659354753852276504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/fastest-thing.html' title='The Fastest Thing'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7624463233159224432</id><published>2007-02-27T15:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:42:56.865-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton'/><title type='text'>Hands of Time</title><content type='html'>A man died and went to heaven. As he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him. He asked, "What are all those clocks?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter answered, "Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie the hands on your clock will move."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh," said the man, "whose clock is that?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"That's Mother Teresa's. The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Incredible," said the man. "And whose clock is that one?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;St. Peter responded, "That's Abraham Lincoln's clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abe told only two lies in his entire life."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Where's Hillary's clock?" asked the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hillary's clock is in Jesus' office. He's using it as a ceiling fan.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7624463233159224432?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7624463233159224432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7624463233159224432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7624463233159224432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7624463233159224432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/hands-of-time.html' title='Hands of Time'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8745013682978055476</id><published>2007-02-26T15:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:49:39.085-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wal-Mart'/><title type='text'>The Blonde and the Horse</title><content type='html'>A blonde decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;She mounts the horse, unassisted, and the horse immediately springs into motion. It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seemingly impervious to its slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, the blonde attempts to leap away from the horse and throw herself to safety.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup, she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness when to her great fortune ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank, the Wal*Mart greeter, sees her dilemma and unplugs the horse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8745013682978055476?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8745013682978055476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8745013682978055476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8745013682978055476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8745013682978055476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/blonde-and-horse.html' title='The Blonde and the Horse'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8959062697451522524</id><published>2007-02-25T15:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:31:16.070-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PMS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>13 Things PMS Stands For</title><content type='html'>1.   Pass My Shotgun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.   Psychotic Mood Shift&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.   Perpetual Munching Spree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   Puffy Mid-Section&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.   People Make me Sick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.   Provide Me with Sweets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.   Pardon My Sobbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.   Pimples May Surface&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   Pass My Sweatpants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Pissy Mood Syndrome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Plainly; Men Suck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Pack My Stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my favorite one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Potential Murder Suspect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8959062697451522524?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8959062697451522524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8959062697451522524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8959062697451522524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8959062697451522524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/13-things-pms-stands-for.html' title='13 Things PMS Stands For'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-884878452806011258</id><published>2007-02-24T15:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:29:52.579-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PMS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>The Hormone Hostage</title><content type='html'>The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his own hands!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, coworker or significant other!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANGEROUS: What's for dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFER: Can I help you with dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFEST: Where would you like to go for dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANGEROUS: Are you wearing that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFER: Wow, you sure look good in brown!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFEST: WOW! Look at you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANGEROUS: What are you so worked up about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFER: Could we be overreacting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFEST: Here's my paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANGEROUS: Should you be eating that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFER: You know, there are a lot of apples left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFEST: Can I get you a piece of chocolate with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANGEROUS: What did you DO all day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFER: I hope you didn't overdo it today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAFEST: I've always loved you in that robe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTRA SAFE: Here, have some more wine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-884878452806011258?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/884878452806011258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=884878452806011258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/884878452806011258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/884878452806011258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/hormone-hostage.html' title='The Hormone Hostage'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-1471388882340532864</id><published>2007-02-23T15:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:26:46.299-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Political'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton'/><title type='text'>Making People Happy</title><content type='html'>Presidential candidates, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama and John Edwards were flying to a convention. Barack looked at Hillary, chuckled and said, "You know, I could throw a $1,000 bill out of the window right now and make somebody very happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hillary shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I could throw ten $100 bills out of the window and make ten people very happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John added, "That being the case, I could throw one hundred $10 bills out of the window and make a hundred people very happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing their exchange, the pilot rolled his eyes and said to his copilot, "Such big-shots back there. I could throw all of them out of the window and make 156 million people very happy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-1471388882340532864?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/1471388882340532864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=1471388882340532864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1471388882340532864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/1471388882340532864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/presidential-candidates-hillary-clinton.html' title='Making People Happy'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-4150141578882761610</id><published>2007-02-21T15:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:20:33.893-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><title type='text'>The 2007 football scouting report!</title><content type='html'>The following is making the rounds of Division I football coaches: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wayfron P. Jackson: 6' 6", 215 lbs. Wide Receiver. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hottest prospect from Columbia SC in the last ten years. Loves rap music. Will demand a mini cassette in his helmet. Currently holds world record for the most "you knows" during an WLTX interview (62 in one minute). Wayfron can print his complete name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cletis Quinticious Jenkins: 6' 3", 220 lbs. Running Back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set NC state scoring record out of Triton High School, Dunn, N.C. Also led the state in burglaries, but has only 9 convictions. He has been clocked at 4.2 seconds in the 40 yard dash with a 19" TV under each arm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roosevelt "Dude" Dansell: 6' 1", 195 lbs. Running Back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Tyler, Texas. Has processed hair and imitates Billy Dee Williams very well. Before he signed his letter of intent, he wanted the school to change colors to chartreuse and pink. Listed his church preference as "red brick." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woodrow Lee Washington: 6' 8", 310 lbs. Tackle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a SC 4th generation welfare family. At 19 he's the oldest of 21 children. Mother claims Woodrow and child number 9 have same father. He has a manslaughter trial pending but feels he will be found innocent because: "The dude said something bad 'bout my Momma." On his entrance form, he listed his I.Q. As 20-20. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willie "Night Train" Smith: 6'4", 225 lbs. Quarterback. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born on an Amtrak train near Danville, VA. Birth certificate indicates he is 27 years old. Thinks the "N" on Nebraska's helmets stands for "Nowledge," but still meets this school's stringent entrance requirements. Insists on wearing number 32 jersey since it matches his score on his Virginia Tech Colle ge Entrance Exam. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyrone "Python" Peoples: 6'10", 228 lbs. Wide Receiver. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Norfolk VA. Has a pending paternity suit and two rape trials, but hopes none of his other 9 victims will file charges. Tyrone had alre ady signed letters of intent with six other colleges but was also willing to sign with University of SC. Likes wild women and red Cadillacs. Thinks Taco Bell is the Mexican Telephone Company. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abdul Hasheen Abba Ali: 6'10", 305 lbs. Guard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Played high school ball in New Orleans under the name Sylvester LeRoy Jones until he discovered religion. Abdul thinks Sherlock Holm es is a housing project in Jacksonville, FL. Doesn't know the meaning of the word "fear." (Doesn't know the meaning of many other words, either.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Note: College track coaches intend to use several of the above in their track programs. However, instead of using a starting gun at track meets, the NCAA has now agreed to use a burglar alarm....this, they hope, will keep the runners alert.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-4150141578882761610?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/4150141578882761610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=4150141578882761610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4150141578882761610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/4150141578882761610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/2007-football-scouting-report.html' title='The 2007 football scouting report!'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-9264360915678019</id><published>2007-02-20T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:17:15.676-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Advice from Grandpa</title><content type='html'>This should once again confirm &lt;br /&gt;That the most important information &lt;br /&gt;In your life won't come from a teacher, &lt;br /&gt;The library or the Internet, but from &lt;br /&gt;A mentor, and on a very personal level. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My long-passed grandfather's birthday &lt;br /&gt;Is coming up, and for me it is a time &lt;br /&gt;To reminisce. The long walks we used &lt;br /&gt;To take. The long drives. The special &lt;br /&gt;Trips he would make to pick me up &lt;br /&gt;So I could spend weekends with him, &lt;br /&gt;And the advice he used to give! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much was wasted because I was young &lt;br /&gt;When he died. If he were alive today and &lt;br /&gt;Sharing his gems of wisdom, I'd be &lt;br /&gt;A better man. Those gems were well &lt;br /&gt;And good, but the one I remember most, &lt;br /&gt;The jewel in the crown of grand fatherly advice, &lt;br /&gt;Came when he paused, looked me in &lt;br /&gt;The eye and said .... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son  "Don't marry a woman with big hands. &lt;br /&gt;It makes your pecker look smaller." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........ Brings a tear to your eye doesn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-9264360915678019?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/9264360915678019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=9264360915678019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9264360915678019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/9264360915678019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/advice-from-grandpa.html' title='Advice from Grandpa'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7115663506683862892</id><published>2007-02-19T15:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:15:04.639-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gross'/><title type='text'>The Bowl of Chili</title><content type='html'>A young cowboy walks into a seedy cafe in Fort Pierre, South Dakota. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sits at the counter and notices an old cowboy with his arms folded staring blankly at a full bowl of chili. After fifteen minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the young cowboy bravely asks the old cowpoke, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you ain't gonna eat that, mind if I do?" The older cowboy slowly turns his head toward the young wrangler and in his best cowboy manner says, "Nah, go ahead." &lt;br /&gt;Eagerly, the young cowboy reaches over and slides the bowl over to his place and starts spooning it in with delight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gets almost down to the bottom and notices a dead mouse in the chili. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sight was shocking, and he immediately pukes up the chili, back into the bowl. &lt;br /&gt;The old cowboy quietly says, "Yep, that's as far as I got, too."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7115663506683862892?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7115663506683862892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7115663506683862892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7115663506683862892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7115663506683862892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/bowl-of-chili.html' title='The Bowl of Chili'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8841361393101472963</id><published>2007-02-18T15:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:12:58.685-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Deserted Island</title><content type='html'>A man was washed up on a beach after a terrible shipwreck. Only a sheep and a sheepdog were washed up with him. After looking around, he realized that they were stranded on a deserted island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After being there a while, he got into the habit of taking his two animal companions to the beach every evening to watch the sun set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One particular evening, the sky was a fiery red with beautiful cirrus clouds, the breeze was warm and gentle - a perfect  night for romance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they sat there, the sheep started looking better and better to the lonely man. Soon, he leaned over to the sheep and put his arm around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the sheepdog, ever protective of the sheep, growled fiercely until the&lt;br /&gt;man took his arm from around the sheep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, the three of them continued to enjoy the sunsets together, but there was no more cuddling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks passed by and, lo and behold, there was another shipwreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only survivor was Hillary Clinton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening, the man introduced Hillary to the evening beach ritual. It was another beautiful evening - red sky, cirrus clouds, a warm and gentle breeze - perfect for a night of romance. Pretty soon, the man started to get "those feelings" again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He fought the urges as long as he could, but he finally gave in and leaned over to Hillary, cautiously and whispered in her ear...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Would you mind taking the dog for a walk?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8841361393101472963?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8841361393101472963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8841361393101472963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8841361393101472963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8841361393101472963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/deserted-island.html' title='The Deserted Island'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6319485611154240267</id><published>2007-02-17T15:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:08:54.590-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Police'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Love the Nurse</title><content type='html'>A motorcycle patrolman was rushed to the hospital with an inflamed appendix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors operated and advised him that all was well.  However, the&lt;br /&gt;Patrolman kept feeling something pulling at the hairs in his crotch.  Worried &lt;br /&gt;that it might have been a second surgery the doctors hadn't told him About, he &lt;br /&gt;finally got enough energy to pull his hospital gown up enough so He could look &lt;br /&gt;at what was making him so uncomfortable.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taped firmly across His pubic hair were three wide strips of adhesive tape, the &lt;br /&gt;kind that Doesn't come off easily.  Written in large black letters was the sentence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"GET WELL QUICK ..... From the nurse you gave a ticket to last week."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6319485611154240267?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6319485611154240267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6319485611154240267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6319485611154240267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6319485611154240267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/love-nurse.html' title='Love the Nurse'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8769608877888944796</id><published>2007-02-16T13:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T13:57:00.177-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blonde'/><title type='text'>The Blonde and the Jag</title><content type='html'>A young blonde female stock broker was bored with driving her BMW. It lacked individuality and besides that, every other girl in the office had one. She fancied something a bit more individual, perhaps a MG convertible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That week she visited her local car dealer and spied a beautiful Jaguar XK140 convertible. It was wonderfully restored and she fell in love with it's gorgeous red paint job. An empty check stub later and off she was tearing down the curvy country lanes enjoying her beautiful new car. Her long blonde hair was flowing in the wind, music blaring from the radio, what could possibly go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that thought there was a splutter from the engine and the car slowly coasted to a stop. She got out and lifted the bonnet and concluded after a few minutes that she didn't have a bloody clue what was wrong. Luckily she had her mobile phone with her and a quick phone call to the AutoClub and a short wait saw a bright shiny yellow van pull up behind her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's a lovely car," said the mechanic. "What seems to be the matter?" "Well, it just conked out I'm afraid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me have look." He set to work and ten minutes later the engine was purring like a cat again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank goodness," she said. "What was the matter?" "Simple really, just crap in the carburetor," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking shocked she asked, "Oh, OK... How many times a week do I have to do that?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8769608877888944796?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8769608877888944796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8769608877888944796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8769608877888944796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8769608877888944796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/blonde-and-jag.html' title='The Blonde and the Jag'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3558893725400670768</id><published>2007-02-15T10:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:51:05.612-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><title type='text'>Upgrading to Wife 1.0</title><content type='html'>&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;&lt;U&gt;Dear Tech Support&lt;/U&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;Last year I upgraded from &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000a0&gt;&lt;b&gt;Girlfriend 7.0&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black size=2&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;to &lt;b&gt;&lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. I soon noticed that the new program began unexpected child processing that took up a lot of space and valuable resources. &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;&lt;BR&gt;In addition, &lt;b&gt;&lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/FONT&gt;installed itself into all other programs and now monitors all other system activity. Applications such as &lt;FONT color=#a13f00&gt;&lt;b&gt;Poker Night 10.3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#99cc00&gt;, Football 5.0 &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;, &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00c200&gt;Hunting and Fishing 7.5&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;, and &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ffcc00&gt;Golfing 3.6. &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;br&gt;I can't seem to keep &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; in the background while attempting to run my favorite applications. I'm thinking about going back to &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000a0&gt;Girlfriend 7.0&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;, but the uninstall doesn't work on &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; . Please help! &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Thanks, &lt;BR&gt;Troubled User..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;BR&gt;_____________________________________ &lt;BR&gt;&lt;br&gt;REPLY: &lt;BR&gt;Dear Troubled User: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;BR&gt;This is a very common problem that men complain about. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Many people upgrade from &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000a1&gt;Girlfriend 7.0&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt; &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;to &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt;, thinking that it is just a Utilities and Entertainment program. &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; is an OPERATING SYSTEM and is designed by its Creator to run EVERYTHING!!! It is also impossible to delete &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; and to return to &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000a1&gt;Girlfriend 7.0&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;. It is impossible to uninstall, or purge the program files from the system once installed. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;You cannot go back to &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000a1&gt;Girlfriend 7.0&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt; because &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; is designed to not allow this. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Look in your &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; manual under&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00a000&gt; Warnings-Alimony/Child Support&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;. I recommend that you keep &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; and work on improving the situation. I suggest installing the background application &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00a000&gt;"Yes Dear"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;to alleviate software augmentation. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;The best course of action is to enter the command&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#9f000f&gt;C:\APOLOGIZE!&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt; because ultimately you will have to give the APOLOGIZE command before the system will return to normal anyway. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;U&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; is a great program, but it tends to be very high maintenance . &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; comes with several support programs, such as&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00e0e0&gt;Clean and Sweep 3.0&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#80803f&gt;Cook It 1.5 &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;and &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00a000&gt;Do Bills 4.2&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;However, &lt;U&gt;be very careful how you use these programs&lt;/U&gt;. Improper use will cause the system to launch the program &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;I&gt;&lt;FONT color=navy&gt;Nag Nag&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/I&gt;&lt;FONT color=navy&gt;9.5&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;. Once this happens, the only way to improve the performance of &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; is to purchase additional software. I recommend &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ffcc00&gt;Flowers 2.1 &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;and &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#00ccff&gt;Diamonds 5.0!&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=red&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;WARNING!!! &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;DO NOT, under any circumstances, install &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=#e000e0&gt;Secretary With Short Skirt 3.3. &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT color=black&gt;This application is not supported by &lt;U&gt;Wife 1.0&lt;/U&gt; and will &lt;I&gt;&lt;U&gt;cause irreversible damage to the operating system!&lt;/U&gt;&lt;/I&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Best of luck, &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Tech Support&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3558893725400670768?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3558893725400670768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3558893725400670768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3558893725400670768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3558893725400670768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/upgrading-to-wife-10.html' title='Upgrading to Wife 1.0'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2313291199518199156</id><published>2007-02-14T10:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T10:31:32.958-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Female Urologists</title><content type='html'>There are over 11,000 male urologists in the US.  But now a few women have entered the field.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A man goes to a female urologist for an exam. The female doctor says, "I am going to check your prostate today, but this new procedure is a little different from what you&lt;br /&gt; are probably used to. I want you to lie on your right side, bend your knees, then while I check your prostate, take a deep breath and say 99."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The guy obeys and says, "99!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The doctor says, "Great. Now turn over on your left side and again, while I repeat the check, take a deep breath and say 99."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Again, the guy says, "99."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The doctor said, "Very good. Now then, I want you to lie on your back with your knees raised slightly. I am going to check your prostate with this hand, and with the other hand I am going to hold on to your penis."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Now take a deep breath and say 99."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The guy begins, "One...two...three.."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2313291199518199156?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2313291199518199156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2313291199518199156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2313291199518199156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2313291199518199156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/female-urologists.html' title='Female Urologists'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2717564196795447041</id><published>2007-02-13T10:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T10:27:35.310-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IRS'/><title type='text'>The IRS Agent and the Rabbi</title><content type='html'>At the end of the tax year, the IRS sent an inspector to audit the books of a synagogue. While he was checking the books he turned to the Rabbi and said: "I notice you buy a lot of candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do with the candle drippings?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good question," noted the Rabbi. "We save them up and send them back to the candle makers, and every now and then they send us a free box of candles."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," replied the auditor, somewhat disappointed that his unusual question had a practical answer. But on he went, in his obnoxious way:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about all these biscuit purchases? What do you do with the crumbs?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, yes," replied the Rabbi, realising that the inspector was trying to trap him with an unanswerable question. "We collect them and send them back to the manufacturers, and every now and then they send a free box of holy biscuits"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," replied the auditor, thinking hard about how he could fluster the know-it-all Rabbi. "Well, Rabbi," he went on, "what do you do with all the leftover foreskins from the circumcisions you perform?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here, too, we do not waste," answered the Rabbi. "What we do is save up all the foreskins and send them to the IRS, and about once a year they send us a complete prick ".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2717564196795447041?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2717564196795447041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2717564196795447041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2717564196795447041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2717564196795447041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/irs-agent-and-rabbi.html' title='The IRS Agent and the Rabbi'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6790134606156415655</id><published>2007-02-12T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T10:23:45.388-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Eternal Love</title><content type='html'>On the evening of their 50th anniversary, a reminiscing wife found the negligee she wore on her wedding night and put it on. She went to her husband and said "Honey, do your remember this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked up from his newspaper and said, "Yes dear, I do. You wore that same negligee the night we were married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Yes, that's right. Do you remember what you said to me that night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded and said, "Yes dear, I still remember."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what was it?" she asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was not much in the mood for this, but he sighed and responded, "Well, honey, as I remember, I said, 'Oh, baby, I'm going to suck the life out of those boobs and screw your brains out.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She giggled and said, "Yes, dear, that's it. That's exactly what you said. So now it's fifty years later, and I'm in the same negligee. What do you have to say tonight?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked her up and down and replied, "Mission accomplished."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6790134606156415655?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6790134606156415655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6790134606156415655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6790134606156415655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6790134606156415655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/eternal-love.html' title='Eternal Love'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-7258527241921077982</id><published>2007-02-11T10:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T10:21:41.659-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><title type='text'>Philosophy of Ambiguity</title><content type='html'>For those who love the philosophy of ambiguity...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If man evolved from monkeys and apes, why do we still have monkeys and apes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What if there were no hypothetical questions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. If a deaf person swears, does his mother wash his hands with soap?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. If someone with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Is there another word for synonym?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Where do forest rangers go to "get away from it all?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What do you do when you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. If a parsley farmer is sued, can they garnish his wages?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Would a fly without wings be called a walk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is he homeless or naked?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If the police arrest a mime, do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Why do they put Braille on the drive-through bank machines?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. How do they get deer to cross the road only at those yellow road signs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. What was the best thing before sliced bread?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. One nice thing about egotists: They don’t talk about other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Does the Little Mermaid wear an algebra?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. How is it possible to have a civil war?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. If one synchronized swimmer drowns, do the rest drown too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. If you ate both pasta and antipasto, would you still be hungry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Whose cruel idea was it for the word "Lisp" to have "S" in it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Why are hemorrhoids called "hemorrhoids" instead of "assteroids"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Why is it called tourist season if we can't shoot at them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Why is there an expiration date on sour cream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. If you spin an oriental man in a circle three times does he become disoriented?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Can an atheist get insurance against acts of God?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-7258527241921077982?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/7258527241921077982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=7258527241921077982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7258527241921077982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/7258527241921077982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/philosophy-of-ambiguity.html' title='Philosophy of Ambiguity'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-2158009829729131609</id><published>2007-02-10T09:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:56:37.675-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men vs. Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>The Rodeo Exhibit</title><content type='html'>A man took his wife to the rodeo and one of the first exhibits they stopped at was the breeding bulls.  They went up to the first pen and there was a sign attached that said, "This bull mated 50 times last year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife playfully nudged her husband in the ribs and said, "He mated 50 times last year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They walked to the second pen which had a sign attached that said, "This bull mated 120 times last year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife gave her husband a healthy jab and said, "That's more than twice a week! You could learn a lot from him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They walked to the third pen and it had a sign attached that said, in capital letters, "This bull mated 365 times last year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife, so excited that her elbow nearly broke her husband's' ribs, said, "That's once a day. You could REALLY learn something from this one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband looked at her and said, "Go over and ask him if it was with the same cow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-2158009829729131609?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/2158009829729131609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=2158009829729131609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2158009829729131609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/2158009829729131609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/rodeo-exhibit.html' title='The Rodeo Exhibit'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-3546101830473378904</id><published>2007-02-09T09:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:54:30.084-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><title type='text'>Bill Gates vs. General Motors</title><content type='html'>For all of us who feel only the deepest love and affection for the way omputers have enhanced our lives, read on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a computer show, Bill Gates reportedly compared the omputer industry with the auto industry and stated,  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued a press release stating: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics (and I just love this part): &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash........  Twice a day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Every time they repainted the lines in the road, you would have to buy a new car.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. You would have to pull to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason you would simply accept this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would run on only five percent of the roads. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The oil, water temperature, and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single "This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation" warning light. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the next one!!nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. The airbag system would ask "Are you sure?" before deploying.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Every time a new car was introduced car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You'd have to press the "Start" button to turn the engine off.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please share this with your friends who love - but sometimes hate - their computer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-3546101830473378904?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/3546101830473378904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=3546101830473378904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3546101830473378904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/3546101830473378904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/bill-gates-vs-general-motors.html' title='Bill Gates vs. General Motors'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-6047968920230644576</id><published>2007-02-08T09:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:42:49.527-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts of the Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><title type='text'>Will I live to  be 90?</title><content type='html'>I recently picked a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab  tests, he said I was doing "fairly well" for my age.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A little concerned about that comment, I couldn't resist asking him, "Do you think  I'll live to be 90?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He asked, "Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer or wine?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no," I replied. "I'm  not doing drugs, either." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he asked, "Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?" I said, "No, my former doctor said that all red meat is very unhealthy!" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, sailing, hiking, or  bicycling?" "No, I don't," I said. "Gotta protect my skin."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He asked, "Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?" "No," I  said "I don't do any of those things." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked at me and said, "Then, why do you give a shit?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-6047968920230644576?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/6047968920230644576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=6047968920230644576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6047968920230644576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/6047968920230644576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/will-i-live-to-be-90.html' title='Will I live to  be 90?'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11673677.post-8846576695074553386</id><published>2007-02-07T09:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:40:53.334-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senior Citizen'/><title type='text'>Grandma's Birth Control Pills</title><content type='html'>A doctor that had been seeing an 80-year-old woman for most of her life finally retired. At her next checkup, the new doctor told her to bring a list of all the medicines that had been prescribed for her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the young doctor was looking through these, his eyes grew wide as he realized she had a prescription for birth control pills. "Mrs Smith, do you realize these are BIRTH CONTROL pills?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, they help me sleep at night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Smith, I assure you there is absolutely NOTHING in these that could possibly help you sleep!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She reached out and patted the young Doctor's knee.  "Yes, dear, I know that. But every morning, I grind one up and mix it in the glass of orange juice that my 16 year old granddaughter drinks.................................. And believe me, it helps me sleep at night."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11673677-8846576695074553386?l=trybble-jokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/feeds/8846576695074553386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11673677&amp;postID=8846576695074553386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8846576695074553386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11673677/posts/default/8846576695074553386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trybble-jokes.blogspot.com/2007/02/grandmas-birth-control-pills.html' title='Grandma&apos;s Birth Control Pills'/><author><name>Trybble</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15136521176214426027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
