<?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-16531511</id><updated>2011-12-14T11:57:13.054+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Laugh your b*lls OFF!</title><subtitle type='html'>New jokes added daily. Feel free to share your jokes by contacting me!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>50</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112963907681978594</id><published>2005-10-18T19:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T20:37:56.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing 2 birds...</title><content type='html'>Once there was an ****** his given name&lt;br /&gt;was "Onestone," so named because he had only&lt;br /&gt;one testicle. He hated that name and asked&lt;br /&gt;everyone not to call him Onestone! After years and&lt;br /&gt;years of torment, Onestone finally cracked and&lt;br /&gt;said, "If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill&lt;br /&gt;them!" The word got around and nobody called him&lt;br /&gt;that any more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day a young woman named Blue Bird&lt;br /&gt;forgot and said, "Good morning, Onestone."&lt;br /&gt;He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into&lt;br /&gt;the forest where he made love to her all day and&lt;br /&gt;all night He made love to her all the next day, until&lt;br /&gt;Blue Bird died from exhaustion. The word got&lt;br /&gt;around that Onestone meant what he promised he&lt;br /&gt;would do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years went by and no one dared call him by his&lt;br /&gt;given name until a woman named Yellow Bird&lt;br /&gt;returned to the village after being away for many&lt;br /&gt;years. Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin,&lt;br /&gt;was&lt;br /&gt;overjoyed when she saw Onestone. She hugged&lt;br /&gt;him and said, "Good to see you, Onestone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onestone grabbed her, took her deep into the&lt;br /&gt;forest, then he made love to her all day, made love&lt;br /&gt;to her all night, made love to her all the next day,&lt;br /&gt;made love to her all the next night but, Yellow Bird&lt;br /&gt;wouldn't die!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what is the moral of this story? "You can't kill&lt;br /&gt;two birds with one stone."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112963907681978594?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112963907681978594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112963907681978594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112963907681978594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112963907681978594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/killing-2-birds.html' title='Killing 2 birds...'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112876038757945974</id><published>2005-10-08T16:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T16:33:07.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'>IT Support</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I heard from a Technician friend:&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt;Dear IT Support, Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and  noticed a slow down in the overall performance, particularly in the flower and  jewellery applications that had operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0.&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, Husband 1.0 un-installed many other valuable programs,  such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, but installed undesirable  programs such asFormula One 5.0, NBA 3.0 and World Cup 2.0. And now Conversation  8.0 no longer runs and House Cleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system. I've tried  running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail. What can I do  ?&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt;Reply:&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt;( -__-)...........upgrade Nagging 5.3 to version 7.5. If problem persist  use Divorce 1.0 to reboot the Husband 1.0.&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112876038757945974?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112876038757945974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112876038757945974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112876038757945974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112876038757945974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/it-support.html' title='IT Support'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112851676113309196</id><published>2005-10-05T20:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T20:30:26.890+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bishop's Nightmare</title><content type='html'>A preacher wanted to raise money for his church and on being told there was a fortune in horse racing, decided to purchase one and enter it in the races. However, at the local auction, the going price for horses was too high and he purchased a donkey instead. He figured since he had it, he might as well go ahead and enter it in the races. To his surprise the donkey came in third!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The next day the local paper carried this headline:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " PREACHER'S @SS SHOWS"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The preacher was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and this time it won. The next day the headline read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " PREACHER'S @SS OUT IN FRONT"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity he ordered the preacher to remove the donkey from the next race. The headline the next day read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " BISHOP SCRATCHES PREACHER'S @SS "  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the preacher to get rid of the donkey. The preacher decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The headline the next day read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " NUN HAS BEST @SS IN TOWN "  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bishop fainted. He told the nun she must get rid of the donkey, so the nun sold it to a farmer for $10.00. The headline the next day read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " NUN SELLS @SS FOR $10.00 " &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey, lead it to the plains where it could run wild and free. The headline the next day read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          " NUN ANNOUNCES HER @SS IS WILD AND FREE! "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The Bishop was buried the next day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112851676113309196?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112851676113309196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112851676113309196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851676113309196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851676113309196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/bishops-nightmare.html' title='Bishop&apos;s Nightmare'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112851118362138186</id><published>2005-10-05T19:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T19:19:43.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawyers s*cks</title><content type='html'>What is the difference between a tick and a lawyer? A tick falls off you when you die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Why does the law society prohibit sex between lawyers and their clients? To prevent clients from being billed twice for essentially the same service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What can a goose do, a duck can't, and a lawyer should?  Stick his bill up his rear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What is black and brown and looks good on a lawyer?  A Doberman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Why are lawyers like nuclear weapons? If one side has one, the other side has to get one. Once launched, they cannot be recalled. When they land, they screw up everything forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Lawyer's creed: A man is innocent until proven broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What's the difference between a female lawyer and a pit bull?  Lipstick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What do you call 20 lawyers skydiving from an airplane?  Skeet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What do you get when you cross a bad politician with a crooked lawyer? Chelsea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; If you see a lawyer on a bicycle, why should you never swerve to hit him? It might be your bicycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It was so cold last winter ... (How cold was it?) ...it was so cold, I saw a lawyer with his hands in his own pockets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A man walked into a lawyer's office and inquired about the lawyer's rates. "$50.00 for three questions," replied the lawyer. "Isn't that awfully steep?" asked the man. "Yes," the lawyer replied, "and what was your third question?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You're trapped in a room with a tiger, a rattlesnake and a lawyer. You have a gun with two bullets. What should you do? Shoot the lawyer. Twice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112851118362138186?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112851118362138186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112851118362138186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851118362138186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851118362138186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/lawyers-scks.html' title='Lawyers s*cks'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112851007716172181</id><published>2005-10-05T19:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T20:29:41.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hellish (and old) punishment</title><content type='html'>A guy goes to hell and is met by the devil, who explains that the punishments are changed every thousand years and he is to select his first punishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First room has a young guy on the wall being whipped.  The  new  guy not keen on  this asks to see the next room.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next room has a  middle aged guy being tortured with fire.  The  new guy immediately asks  to  see the third room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has a really old guy chained to the wall getting a bl*w job from a gorgeous blonde. The guy jumps at the change and takes the room. The devil walks into the room taps the blonde on the shoulder and says "okay, stop now, you've been relieved".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112851007716172181?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112851007716172181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112851007716172181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851007716172181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112851007716172181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/hellish-and-old-punishment.html' title='Hellish (and old) punishment'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112850982619494755</id><published>2005-10-05T18:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T18:57:06.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing Rear</title><content type='html'>This guy wants to be a proctologist, and he wants to be a really good proctologist, so he decides to go down to the morgue after class and practice a little. Well, he uncovers the first guy and there is a cork in his b*tt! He thinks it's a little strange, so he pulls it and music starts playing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "...On the road again, just can't wait to get on the road again..."&lt;br /&gt; The guy really freaks out! He runs and gets the M.A. and drags the  poor guy back to the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Look!" he says, and pulls the cork out again "...On the road again..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The M.A. is totally unimpressed...&lt;br /&gt; "So what?" he says.&lt;br /&gt; "Isn't that the most amazing thing you've ever seen?&lt;br /&gt; "the guy asked,&lt;br /&gt; "Are you kidding?" says the M.A.&lt;br /&gt; "Any *sshole can sing country music!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112850982619494755?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112850982619494755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112850982619494755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112850982619494755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112850982619494755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/singing-rear.html' title='Singing Rear'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112826875343493816</id><published>2005-10-02T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T19:03:13.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagination v reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;A teenager comes home from school and asks his dad, ‘What’s the difference between potential and reality?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His dad says, ‘I’ll show you. Ask your mum if she’d sleep with David Beckham for a million dollars. Then ask your sister if she’d sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the kid goes to ask his mum, ‘Would you sleep with David Beckham for a million dollars?’ His mum says, ‘Don’t tell your father, but yes, I would.’ Then he asks his sister, ‘For a million dollars, would you sleep with Brad Pitt?’ She says, ‘Yes!’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid goes back to his dad and says, ‘I’ve got it. Potentially we’re sitting on two million bucks – but in reality, we’re living with a couple of slags.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112826875343493816?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112826875343493816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112826875343493816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826875343493816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826875343493816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/imagination-v-reality.html' title='Imagination v reality'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112826867531496455</id><published>2005-10-02T23:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T20:31:36.643+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Construction site blunder</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;An Italian, an Irishman and a Chinese fellow are hired at a construction site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The foreman points out a huge pile of sand and says to the Italian guy, ‘You're in charge of sweeping.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then turns to the Irishman. ‘You're in charge of digging.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, he turns to the Chinaman. ‘And you're in charge of supplies. Now, I have to leave for a little while. I expect you guys to make a dent in that pile.’ Two hours later, the foreman returns to find the pile of sand untouched, and the Italian and Irishman standing nearby looking sheepish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Why didn't you sweep any off it?’ he asks the pair. The Italian looks at him. ‘We didn’t have a broom or shovel. You said the Chinese guy was in charge of supplies, but he disappeared and I couldn't find him.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annoyed, the foreman storms off to find the errant Oriental. Just then, the Chinaman leaps out from behind the pile of sand. ‘Supplies!’ he yells.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112826867531496455?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112826867531496455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112826867531496455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826867531496455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826867531496455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/construction-site-blunder.html' title='Construction site blunder'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112826843493792534</id><published>2005-10-02T23:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T23:53:54.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Discommnunication</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;A very, very drunk man flops onto a bus seat next to a priest. His tie is stained, his face plastered with lipstick and a half-empty bottle of gin is sticking out of his trouser pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He opens his newspaper and starts reading, but after a few minutes turns to the priest and asks, ‘Hey, Father, do you have any idea what causes arthritis?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Yes,’ the priest replies sternly. ‘It’s caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, drinking too much alcohol and having complete contempt for your fellow man.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ the drunk mutters, and returns to his paper. The bus carries on its way, and a few minutes later the priest, feeling guilty about what he has just said, nudges the man and apologizes to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ‘I’m very sorry,’ says the holy man. ‘I didn’t mean to come on so strong. It was mean-spirited and inconsiderate of me. How long have you been suffering from arthritis?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ‘I haven’t,’ says the drunk. ‘I was just reading here that the Pope has.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112826843493792534?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112826843493792534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112826843493792534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826843493792534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826843493792534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/discommnunication.html' title='Discommnunication'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112826816940622561</id><published>2005-10-02T23:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T23:50:49.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Classic Affairs</title><content type='html'>thanks to Shee Pinn for sharing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FIRST AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A married man was having an affair with his lovely, luscious secretary. One&lt;br /&gt;day, their passions overcame them and they took off for her house, where&lt;br /&gt;they made passionate love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep,&lt;br /&gt;awakening around 8:00 p.m. As the man threw on his clothes, he told the&lt;br /&gt;woman to take his shoes outside and rub them through the grass and dirt.&lt;br /&gt;Mystified, she nonetheless complied. He slipped into his shoes and drove&lt;br /&gt;home. "Where on earth have you been till so late?" demanded his wife when&lt;br /&gt;he entered the house. "Darling, I can't lie to you. I've been having an&lt;br /&gt;affair with my secretary and we've been together all afternoon. I fell&lt;br /&gt;asleep after making love to her, and didn't wake up until 8 o'clock." The&lt;br /&gt;wife glanced down at his shoes and said, "You lying bastard! You've been&lt;br /&gt;playing golf again!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SECOND AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a middle-aged couple with two stunningly beautiful teenaged&lt;br /&gt;daughters. The couple decided to try one last time for the son they had&lt;br /&gt;always wanted. After months of trying, the wife finally got pregnant and&lt;br /&gt;sure enough, delivered a healthy baby boy nine months later. The joyful&lt;br /&gt;father rushed into the nursery to see his new son. He took one look and&lt;br /&gt;was horrified to see the ugliest child he had ever seen. He went to his&lt;br /&gt;wife and told her there was no way he could be the father of that child.&lt;br /&gt;"Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered!" he exclaimed. Then he&lt;br /&gt;gave her a stern look and asked, "Have you been fooling around on me?" The&lt;br /&gt;wife just smiled sweetly and said, "Oh no, not this time, dear!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE THIRD AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mortician was working late one night. It was his job to examine the dead&lt;br /&gt;bodies before they were sent off to be buried or cremated. As he examined&lt;br /&gt;the body of Mr. Schwartz, who was to be cremated, he noticed the enormous&lt;br /&gt;size of the dead man's 'manhood'. "Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Schwartz", said&lt;br /&gt;the mortician to himself, as though speaking to the dead body, "but I&lt;br /&gt;can't just send you off to be cremated with this tremendously huge&lt;br /&gt;specimen. It should be sent to the University Medical Faculty for&lt;br /&gt;examination." With that, the&lt;br /&gt;mortician used his tools to remove the dead man's private part. He then&lt;br /&gt;stuffed his prize into a large clear plastic bag and took it home, to be&lt;br /&gt;delivered to the University the following day. The first person he showed&lt;br /&gt;it to was his wife. "Honey, I have something to show you that you just&lt;br /&gt;won't believe is true," he said, as he showed her the 'specimen'. "Oh my&lt;br /&gt;God!" the wife screamed before she fainted away, "Schwartz is dead!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FOURTH AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was in bed with her paramour when she heard her husband unlocking&lt;br /&gt;the front door. "Hurry," she said, "stand in that corner." Then she&lt;br /&gt;quickly rubbed baby oil all over him and then dusted him with talcum&lt;br /&gt;powder. "Don't move until I tell you to," she whispered. "Just pretend&lt;br /&gt;you're a statue." "Why, what's this, honey?" the husband inquired as he&lt;br /&gt;entered the room, and saw the new 'ornament'. "Oh, it's just a statue,"&lt;br /&gt;she replied nonchalantly. "The Smiths bought one for their bedroom. I&lt;br /&gt;liked it so much, I got one for&lt;br /&gt;us too." No more was said about the statue, not even later when they went&lt;br /&gt;to sleep. Around two in the morning, the husband got out of bed, went to&lt;br /&gt;the kitchen and returned a while later with a sandwich and a glass of&lt;br /&gt;milk. "Here," he whispered to the statue, "eat something. I stood like an&lt;br /&gt;idiot at the Smiths for three days and nobody offered me as much as a&lt;br /&gt;glass of water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FIFTH AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man walks into a nightclub one night. He goes up to the bar and asks for&lt;br /&gt;a beer. "Certainly, Sir, that'll be 1 cent." "One Cent?", exclaims the man&lt;br /&gt;in amazement.. The bartender replies, "Yes, here it is." So the man&lt;br /&gt;glances over at the menu and asks, "Could I have a nice juicy T-bone&lt;br /&gt;steak, with chips, peas and a fried egg?" "Certainly, Sir," replies the&lt;br /&gt;barman, "but that comes to real money. It'll cost you a whole 4 cents."&lt;br /&gt;"Four Cents?", exclaims the man, astounded. "Wow! Where's the guy who owns&lt;br /&gt;this place?" The&lt;br /&gt;bartender replies, "Upstairs, with my wife." The man says, "Well, what's&lt;br /&gt;he doing upstairs with your wife?" The bartender replies, "The same thing&lt;br /&gt;as I'm doing to his business."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SIXTH AFFAIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake was dying. His wife, Betty, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by&lt;br /&gt;his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her&lt;br /&gt;praying roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began&lt;br /&gt;to move slightly. "Betty my darling," he whispered. "Hush my love," she&lt;br /&gt;said. "Rest, don't talk." He was insistent. "Betty," he said in his tired&lt;br /&gt;voice, "I have something that I must confess." "There's nothing to&lt;br /&gt;confess," replied the weeping wife, everything's all right, go to sleep."&lt;br /&gt;"No, no. I must die in peace, Betty. I....I've slept with your sister,&lt;br /&gt;your best friend, her best friend, and even your mother!" "I know, my&lt;br /&gt;sweet one" whispered Betty, "that's why I've poisoned you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112826816940622561?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112826816940622561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112826816940622561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826816940622561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112826816940622561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/10/classic-affairs.html' title='Classic Affairs'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112808252034382844</id><published>2005-09-30T20:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T20:15:20.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Signs Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Contributed by Shee Pinn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;disp=inline&amp;amp;attid=0.1&amp;th=1064e40204b27a69"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;amp;disp=thd&amp;attid=0.1&amp;amp;th=1064e40204b27a69" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;disp=inline&amp;amp;attid=0.2&amp;th=1064e40204b27a69"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;amp;disp=thd&amp;attid=0.2&amp;amp;th=1064e40204b27a69" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;disp=inline&amp;amp;attid=0.3&amp;th=1064e40204b27a69"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;amp;disp=thd&amp;attid=0.3&amp;amp;th=1064e40204b27a69" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;disp=inline&amp;amp;attid=0.5&amp;th=1064e40204b27a69"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?view=att&amp;amp;disp=thd&amp;attid=0.5&amp;amp;th=1064e40204b27a69" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112808252034382844?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112808252034382844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112808252034382844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112808252034382844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112808252034382844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/funny-signs-part-1.html' title='Funny Signs Part 1'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112763082477218720</id><published>2005-09-25T14:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T14:47:04.773+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking things too far...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;Taking his seat on a flight, a businessman is bemused to see a parrot in the next seat. The plane takes off and the man asks the stewardess for a coffee. As he does, the parrot screeches, ‘Yeah, and get me a double whisky too, you ugly cow!’ The stewardess walks off to get the drinks, but on her return has forgotten the man’s coffee. She apologizes, and as she turns to get the coffee the parrot again squawks, ‘Yeah, and get me another whisky you slack-arsed tart!’ By now the stewardess is rattled, and she returns with the whisky, but again no coffee. The man, having observed the parrot’s success, decides to try the rude approach. ‘I’ve asked you for coffee twice!’ he bellows, ‘Now get your lazy butt back there and get me a cup of coffee.’ Moments later he and the parrot are dragged from their seats and thrown out of the emergency exit by two stewards. They plunge downwards for a few seconds, then the parrot looks at the man and squawks, ‘For someone who can’t fly, you sure are a ballsy prat!’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112763082477218720?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112763082477218720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112763082477218720' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112763082477218720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112763082477218720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/taking-things-too-far.html' title='Taking things too far...'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112763061432997260</id><published>2005-09-25T14:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T14:43:34.330+08:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Hard Rats</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;Three rats are relaxing in a bar. After a few jugs they start talking about how tough they are. The first rat says, ‘When I woke up there was a matchbox of Rat-o-kill outside my hole. I ate the whole lot and didn't feel a thing.’ After a significant pause and a few more glasses, the second rat chips in, ‘When I got up this morning, there was an enormous rat trap with a huge piece of prime cheese for bait. I stepped up, caught the bar on my back, ate the cheese and slipped out without even a bruise.’ At this, the third rat gets up and heads for the door. ‘Where are you going?’ ask the two other rats. ‘Aw, I'm bored here. Think I'll go home and shag the cat again.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112763061432997260?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112763061432997260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112763061432997260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112763061432997260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112763061432997260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/3-hard-rats.html' title='3 Hard Rats'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712431034550726</id><published>2005-09-22T18:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T22:26:43.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Limbless man is f*cked</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;   A man with no arms or legs is sunbathing on the beach. He is approached by three beautiful young women who take pity on him.&lt;br /&gt;The first says to him, "Have you ever been hugged?"&lt;br /&gt;The man shakes his head, and she leans down and gives him a hug. The second says to him, "Have you ever been kissed?"&lt;br /&gt;He shakes his head. She kisses him.&lt;br /&gt;Rather abruptly, the third girl asks, "Have you ever been f*cked?"&lt;br /&gt;"No," says the man, his eyes lighting up.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you are now, The tide's coming in."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712431034550726?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712431034550726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712431034550726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712431034550726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712431034550726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/limbless-man-is-fcked.html' title='Limbless man is f*cked'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112732489995797683</id><published>2005-09-22T01:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T22:27:08.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bring her at half past 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;One day, a man walks into a dentist’s surgery and asks how much it costs to extract wisdom teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘RM200,’ the dentist says. ‘That’s a ridiculous amount,’ the man says. ‘Isn’t there a cheaper way?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Well,’ the dentist says, ‘if I don’t use an anaesthetic, I can knock it down to RM160.’ ‘That’s still too expensive,’ the man says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Okay,’ says the dentist. ‘If I save on electricity and wear and tear on the tools, and simply rip the teeth out with a pair of pliers I could get away with charging RM100.’ ‘Nope,’ moans the man. ‘It’s still too much.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Hmm,’ says the dentist, scratching his head. ‘If I let one of my students on work experience have a crack, I suppose I could charge RM20.’ ‘Marvellous,’ says the man. ‘Book the wife in for next Tuesday.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112732489995797683?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112732489995797683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112732489995797683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732489995797683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732489995797683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/bring-her-at-half-past-2.html' title='Bring her at half past 2'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112732447553654493</id><published>2005-09-22T01:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T01:41:15.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Duck billed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt; Two ducks check into a hotel for a dirty weekend. They get up to their room, only to discover they've no condoms. "No problem," quacks the male, "I'll just call down to room service and get them to bring one up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, room service is knocking at the door. The male duck waddles over, takes the condom and tips the lad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sir," asks the man, before leaving, "should I put that on your bill?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Christ no!" quacks the duck, startled, "what do you think I am, some kind of pervert?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112732447553654493?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112732447553654493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112732447553654493' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732447553654493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732447553654493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/duck-billed.html' title='Duck billed'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112732435050960593</id><published>2005-09-22T01:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T01:39:10.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The sniper</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt; A man goes into a gun shop for a telescopic rifle sight. The assistant takes one out, points out the window and says: "This baby is so good, you can see right into my house on that hill way over there." The man looks through the sight at the house and starts laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's so funny?" asks the assistant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I can see a naked man chasing a naked woman around your house," replies the customer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snatching the 'scope back, the assistant cranes his eye through the sight and sure enough, there is his wife, naked, being hotly pursued by an excited young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furious, the assistant says to the man, "If I give you two bullets, will you blow my wife's head off with one and take the man's d*ck out with the other? I'll give you the telescopic sight for free if you do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Okay," the man says, as he takes out his rifle and attacks the sight. Taking a quick look through it before loading, he hands one bullet back. "You know what?" he says. "I think I can do this with just one shot."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112732435050960593?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112732435050960593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112732435050960593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732435050960593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732435050960593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/sniper.html' title='The sniper'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112732421524451662</id><published>2005-09-22T01:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T01:36:55.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Old man's missfire</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt; An extremely wealthy 80-year-old arrived for his annual check-up and smiled when the doctor enquired about his health. "Never better," he announced proudly. "I've taken an 18-year-old bride, and she's pregnant. What do you think of that?" The doctor considered this for a moment, then said, "I once knew a guy who was an avid hunter. One day he slept in, and in the subsequent rush, he dashed out with his umbrella instead of his rifle." "Go on, doc," said the old-timer "Deep in the woods, he faced a huge, angry bear, raised his umbrella, pointed it at the bear, and squeezed the handle. And do you know what happened?" Dumbfounded, the old codger shook his head. "The bear fell dead in front of him." "That's impossible," exclaimed the old man in disbelief. "Someone else must have been doing the shooting." Sighing, the doctor gave his patient a friendly pat on the back. "That's what I'm getting at."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112732421524451662?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112732421524451662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112732421524451662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732421524451662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112732421524451662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/old-mans-missfire.html' title='Old man&apos;s missfire'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712419819410740</id><published>2005-09-19T18:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T22:13:11.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Milking machine milks man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt; After years of milking cows with the traditional stool-and-squirt method, Farmer Giles finds he has enough money to order a high-tech milking machine. The equipment arrives a few days later and, realising his wife is out for the day, decides to test the machine on himself first.&lt;p&gt;After setting it up, he quickly eases his c*ck into the equipment and flicks the switch. The sucking teat pleasures him better than his wife ever could, but when it's over the machine will not release his member. In desperation, the farmer calls the Customer Service Hotline. "Hello," he winces, "I've just bought a milking machine from your company. It works fantastic, but, er, how do I remove it from the cow's udder?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Don't worry." Replies the rep. "The machine will release automatically once it's collected two gallons."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712419819410740?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712419819410740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712419819410740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712419819410740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712419819410740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/milking-machine-milks-man.html' title='Milking machine milks man'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712375715009957</id><published>2005-09-19T17:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T18:09:29.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The hygenic waiter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;On being seated at a restaurant table, a gentleman becomes somewhat embarrassed when he knocks the spoon off with his elbow. A nearby waiter calmly picks it up and produces another shiny spoon from his pocket, which he places on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suitably impressed, the diner enquires, ‘Do all waiters carry spare spoons on them?’ The waiter replies, ‘Indeed, sir, it is in fact company policy, ever since our efficiency expert determined that 17.8 per cent of our clients knock the spoon off the table. By carrying a spare spoon on our person, we save on trips to the kitchen’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the gentleman has finished his meal and paid the bill, he wanders over to the same waiter and says to him, ‘You will, of course, forgive me, but do you know you have a piece of string hanging from your fly?’ ‘Indeed, sir,’ the waiter begins, ‘Our efficiency expert determined that we were spending too much time washing our hands after going to the toilet. Thus, by attaching this piece of string to my penis I avoid touching myself: I go, and then I return to work. It saves a lot of time.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘But how do you put it back in your trousers?’ asks the curious diner. ‘Well sir, I can't speak on behalf of my colleagues, but I just use the spoon.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712375715009957?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712375715009957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712375715009957' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712375715009957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712375715009957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/hygenic-waiter.html' title='The hygenic waiter'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712357299141638</id><published>2005-09-19T17:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T22:12:57.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fit for Duty?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;During a shortage of eligible men, a bear, a pig and a rabbit are called up for national service. While waiting for the medical examinations, they all admit they're terrified of being killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I'm ungainly and pink,’ says the pig, truthfully. ‘The enemy will see me a mile off – so I decided to chop my tail off.’ The rabbit nods sagely – and the bear realizes the bunny's ears have been removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘I just hope it works,’ says the rabbit. Mystified, the bear watches as both animals enter the examination room – then return, smiling. ‘We're free to go,’ says the rabbit. ‘They said a rabbit without ears is not a proper rabbit, and a pig without a curly tail is not a proper pig!’ He's about to leave with the pig when the bear pipes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Hang on a minute!’ he cries. ‘I'm massive and slow – I'd not last a day.’ The other two look at the bear. ‘Well,’ says the rabbit, ‘Your sharp teeth could be useful in combat. You might want them removed …’ Nodding miserably, the bear lies down – and the other animals start kicking his fangs out. Eventually the dazed bear, blood pouring from his mouth, stumbles through the door. A moment later he returns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Did you get let off?’ says the pig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Yesh,’ splutters the bear. ‘Apparently I'm too fat.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712357299141638?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712357299141638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712357299141638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712357299141638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712357299141638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/fit-for-duty.html' title='Fit for Duty?'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712342835852491</id><published>2005-09-19T17:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T22:39:48.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the piss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;A man is sitting in the pub having a quiet pint when a gremlin comes in and asks for a half. He downs his drink quickly, then runs along the bar, sticks his head in the man’s pint and shakes it around. The man is bemused, but continues to drink as the gremlin returns to his seat. The little beastie orders a second and third half and after each one does exactly the same thing. The man finally loses his patience and grabs the gremlin by the scruff of the neck. ‘If you stick your head in my pint one more time, I’ll rip your d*ck off!’ shouts the angry drinker. ‘Ain’t got one,’ says the gremlin. The man looks confused. ‘If you haven’t got a c*ck, how do you piss?’ he asks the gremlin. ‘Like this,’ says the gremlin, and sticks his head in the man’s pint, shaking it around.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712342835852491?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712342835852491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712342835852491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712342835852491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712342835852491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/taking-piss.html' title='Taking the piss'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112712291268730494</id><published>2005-09-19T17:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T18:05:18.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joe's Meal</title><content type='html'>As Joe walked out of a brothel, he was overcome by a sudden pang of hunger and decided to grab a bite to eat at the restaurant across the street. He sat down and ordered chicken noodle soup. After a few bites, he found a pubic hair in his soup and told the waitress he wanted a refund. The waitress remonstrated, “Knowing where you just came from, you’re complaining of a hair in your soup?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe replied, “Lady, if I had found a noodle in the ‘meal’ I ordered from the brothel, I wouldn’t have paid there either!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112712291268730494?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112712291268730494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112712291268730494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712291268730494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112712291268730494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/joes-meal.html' title='Joe&apos;s Meal'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112679911820247862</id><published>2005-09-15T23:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T10:26:04.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty Pageant Q&amp;A</title><content type='html'>MISS WORLD Questions -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AMERICA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms America, how do you describe a male&lt;br /&gt;organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms America: Well, I can say that male organs in&lt;br /&gt;America are like gentlemen.&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms America: Because it stands every time it sees a&lt;br /&gt;woman..........................&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SPAIN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms Spain, how do you describe a male&lt;br /&gt;organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Spain: Male organs in our country are like our&lt;br /&gt;very own Bullfight or Toro (Bull)&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Spain: Because it charges every time it sees an&lt;br /&gt;opening....&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PHILIPPINES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms Philippines, how do you describe a&lt;br /&gt;male organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Philippines: Well, I can say that male organs&lt;br /&gt;in our country are like gossip or rumors.&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Philippines: Because it passes from mouth to&lt;br /&gt;mouth......&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause! Standing Ovation! Applause!&lt;br /&gt;Applause!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SAUDI ARABIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms Soudi Arabia, how do you describe a&lt;br /&gt;male organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Saudi: Well, I can say that male organs in&lt;br /&gt;Saudi are like thieves.&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Saudi: Because they like to enter through the&lt;br /&gt;back door.....&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause! Laughter! Laughter! Applause!&lt;br /&gt;Applause!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INDIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms India, how do you describe a male&lt;br /&gt;organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms India: Well, I can say the male organs in India&lt;br /&gt;are like labourers.&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms India: Because it works day and night......&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause! Applause!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MALAYSIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms Malaysia, how do you describe a male&lt;br /&gt;organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Malaysia: Well, I can say that Male Organs in&lt;br /&gt;Malaysia are like Proton car.&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Malaysia: Look tough but actually very&lt;br /&gt;soft............................&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause! Laughter! Laughter! Applause! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SINGAPORE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: Ms Singapore,how do you describe a male&lt;br /&gt;organ in your country?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Singapore: Well, I can say that male organ in&lt;br /&gt;Singapore is very Kiasu (Afraid to lose).&lt;br /&gt;Question: How can you say so?&lt;br /&gt;Ms Singapore: It always wants to rush in quick and&lt;br /&gt;leave 15 minutes before the show is over&lt;br /&gt;(Applause! Applause! Applause! Applause! Applause!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112679911820247862?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112679911820247862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112679911820247862' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679911820247862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679911820247862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/beauty-pageant-qa.html' title='Beauty Pageant Q&amp;A'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112679902419846905</id><published>2005-09-15T23:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T10:24:25.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Give &amp; Take</title><content type='html'>A man is walking on the beach when he trips over a lamp. A few seconds later, a genie pops out and says, "I’m required to grant three wishes, but since you did not treat my lamp with respect, I will give twice what you get to the person you hate most—your boss."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man agrees and makes his first wish: "I want lots of money." Instantly $20 million appears in bags on the beach, and $40 million appears in his boss’ bank account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next the man asks for an incredible sports car. Instantly a Lamborghini appears, and at the same moment, two show up outside his boss’ house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the genie says, "You have but one wish left; you should choose carefully."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man says, "Well, I’ve always wanted to donate a kidney."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112679902419846905?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112679902419846905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112679902419846905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679902419846905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679902419846905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/give-take.html' title='Give &amp; Take'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112679773030498995</id><published>2005-09-15T23:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T16:11:44.470+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boss el Typical</title><content type='html'>A young executive is leaving the office late one night when he finds the CEO standing over the shredder with a piece of paper in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is a very sensitive official document,” says the CEO. “My secretary’s gone for the night. Can you make this thing work?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure,” says the junior exec as he turns on the shredder and hits the start button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Great,” says the CEO. “I just need one copy.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112679773030498995?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112679773030498995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112679773030498995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679773030498995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679773030498995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/boss-el-typical.html' title='Boss el Typical'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112679715258278522</id><published>2005-09-15T23:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T00:50:17.093+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumb &amp; Dumber</title><content type='html'>A mother and father took their 6-year-old son to a nude beach. As the boy walked along the beach, he noticed that some of the ladies had boobs bigger than his mother’s, and asked her why. &lt;p&gt;The mother told her son, “The bigger they are the dumber that person is.” Satisfied with the answer, the boy left to play in the ocean, but returned to tell his mother that many of the men have larger “pee-pees” than his dad. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; His mother explained, “The bigger they are the dumber that person is.” Again, satisfied with the answer, the boy returned to the ocean to play. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Shortly after, the boy returned again, promptly informing his mother, “Daddy is talking to the dumbest girl on the beach, and the longer he talks, the dumber he gets!” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112679715258278522?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112679715258278522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112679715258278522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679715258278522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112679715258278522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/dumb-dumber.html' title='Dumb &amp; Dumber'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112662987835403585</id><published>2005-09-14T00:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T00:50:00.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fatherly Pharmacist</title><content type='html'>A young man goes into a drug store to buy condoms. The pharmacist says the condoms come in packs of three, nine or 12, and asks which the young man wants. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been seeing this girl for a while and she’s really hot. I want the condoms because I think tonight’s ‘the night.’ We’re having dinner with her parents, and then we’re going out. And I’ve got a feeling I’m gonna get lucky after that. Once she’s had me, she’ll want me all the time, so you’d better give me the 12 pack.” The young man makes his purchase and leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that evening, he sits down to dinner with his girlfriend and her parents. He asks if he might give the blessing, and they agree. He begins the prayer, but continues praying for several minutes. The girl leans over and says, “You never told me that you were such a religious person.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He leans over to her and says, “You never told me that your father is a pharmacist.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112662987835403585?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112662987835403585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112662987835403585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662987835403585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662987835403585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/fatherly-pharmacist.html' title='The Fatherly Pharmacist'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112662974771700978</id><published>2005-09-14T00:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T12:38:17.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Circumcision Horror</title><content type='html'>A man enters the hospital for a circumcision. When he comes to after the procedure, he’s perturbed to see several doctors standing around his bed. &lt;p&gt; “Son, there’s been a bit of a mix-up,” admits the surgeon. “I’m afraid there was an accident, and we were forced to perform a sex-change operation. You now have a vagina instead of a penis.” &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; “What!” gasps the patient. “You mean I’ll never experience another erection?” &lt;/p&gt;  “Oh, you might,” the surgeon reassures him. “Just not yours.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112662974771700978?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112662974771700978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112662974771700978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662974771700978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662974771700978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/circumcision-horror.html' title='Circumcision Horror'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112662965449651522</id><published>2005-09-14T00:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T20:16:01.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Gift</title><content type='html'>A couple have not been getting along for years, so the husband thinks, “I’ll buy my wife a cemetary plot for her birthday.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Well, you can imagine her disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The next year, her birthday rolls around again and he doesn’t get her anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   She says, “Why didn’t you get me a birthday present?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   He says, “You didn’t use what I got you last year!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112662965449651522?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112662965449651522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112662965449651522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662965449651522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662965449651522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/birthday-gift.html' title='Birthday Gift'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112662961196181101</id><published>2005-09-14T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T20:12:33.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lottery Boot Out</title><content type='html'>A man gets home, screeches his car into the driveway, runs into the house, slams the door and shouts at the top of his lungs, “Honey,pack your bags. I won the damn lottery!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The wife says,“Ohmigod! No sh*t?!  What should I pack,beach stuff or  mountain stuff?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The husband yells back,“It doesn’t matter… just get the hell out!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112662961196181101?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112662961196181101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112662961196181101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662961196181101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112662961196181101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/lottery-boot-out.html' title='Lottery Boot Out'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112660028386806867</id><published>2005-09-13T16:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T20:12:14.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Proud Malaysians...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;NATIONAL FLOWER: Bunga Raya (Hibiscus). &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL CAR: Proton. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; 2nd NATIONAL CAR: Perodua Kancil. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; 3rd NATIONAL CAR: Perodua Tikus it's suppose to be half the size of the Kancil, but somehow Malaysian drivers will still be able to squeeze in 6 or 7 passengers.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL BEHAVIOR AT CAR SHOWROOMS: First walk towards the car you are interested in. Then walk around the car in circles, tapping and knocking every part of the chassis with your knuckles.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Then say something like "Body not very solid..." After that approach the front left tire, give it a few hard kicks to "test" the tire. Next walk to the rear right side and press the body of the car down a few times, while exclaiming "wah, asorbar not bad". Now you are ready for a "test drive"&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Get into the car and give the steering wheel a few turns. Flash the lights, sound the horn, recline the seats, open up every compartment etc. Do all these tests while you're pretending to read the brochure.&lt;br /&gt;Finished?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Final test: get out of the car and slam the door a few times to check for "solid sound". If satisfied, approach salesman and ask "How much loan can take?"&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL RICE COOKER: National Rice Cooker 99% of Malaysian households use a National Rice Cooker, the other 1% don't eat rice.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL BREAKFAST (ON THE WAY TO WORK): Nasi Lemak Who cooks and eats nasi lemak at home for breakfast?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL BREAKFAST (AT HOME): Maggi Mee. Also the national lunch and dinner if you're an outstation student, bachelor, neglected husband, lazy fella, etc.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL EXCUSE FOR HAIR LOSS: Maggi Mee.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL EXCUSE FOR BEING LATE: Traffic Jam.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL CONDOM: None. Most Malaysians still feel embarrassed buying condoms. So they rushed in to a Seven Eleven, hurriedly grab the nearest pack, any pack, pay and leave before the cashier can even blink an eye. If it's not available, Malaysians optimistically apply the other birth control method. (See below)&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL FRUIT FOR INDUCING MENSTRUATION: Pineapple.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL APHRODISIAC DRINK: Stout. Many swear by it. But after a few pints they start swearing at everything.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL FAKE ILLNESS FOR GETTING MC (MEN): Food Poisoning.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL FAKE ILLNESS FOR GETTING MC (WOMEN): Menstrual Pain.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL EXCUSES GIVEN BY WOMEN WHEN REFUSING SEX: Headache, kids not asleep, maid not asleep, mother-in-law around, early appointment, food not digested yet, air conditioner not cold enough, air conditioner too cold, nail polish not dry yet, forgot to take the pill, sleepy, stomach cramps, menstruation, haven't remove makeup, haven't shower, no water supply, going to watch "Santa Barbara", depress, no mood, etc.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL EXCUSES GIVEN BY MEN WHEN REFUSING SEX: None.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL SECRET SEXUAL DESIRE OF MALAYSIAN MEN: Transvestites Every heterosexual male Malaysian seem to have a secret desire for a "bapok". On a Saturday night, they flocked to all those places where the transvestites hang out. They ogle at them, tease them, pay for their "services", etc. They never fail to honk in excitement when they see one on the road. And the Saturday night outings to these places are always in a group of three or four male friends. It's a kind of Malaysian male bonding.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Yes. Male bonding by seeking out men dressed up as women. It's no wonder that drag shows such as "Paper Dolls" are ever so popular in Malaysia.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL CURE FOR HEADACHES: Panadol the "cure all" for Malaysians. If it fails we have another secret weapon; Tiger Balm.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL CURE FOR DIZZINESS: Minyak Angin Cap Kapak&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; NATIONAL CAUSE OF DIZZINESS (FOR YUPPIES): Happy Hours&lt;/p&gt;  NATIONAL INSTANT CURE FOR DIZZINESS (FOR YUPPIES): The sight of a police road block.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112660028386806867?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112660028386806867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112660028386806867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112660028386806867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112660028386806867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/proud-malaysians.html' title='Proud Malaysians...'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112652417754826879</id><published>2005-09-12T19:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T00:42:44.066+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diet goes bananas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A heavyset guy sees an ad that reads "Lose weight. Only $10 a pound. Call (202) 555-0238" and decides to make the call. The operator asks, "How much weight do you want to lose?"&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Ten pounds," he replies.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"We’ll have a representative over in the morning,"  says the operator.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;About 9 a.m., there’s a knock on the door. There stands a fairly good-looking girl, completely naked except for a sign around her neck reading “If You Catch Me, You Can Have Me.”&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;The hefty fellow chases her upstairs, downstairs, and all around the house. Finally, panting and wheezing, he catches her. After they have sex, he runs to the bathroom and weighs himself. He’s lost 10 pounds!&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;That night he calls the number again and says, "I want to  lose 20 pounds."&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"We’ll send someone over."&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;The next morning, he’s greeted by a gorgeous girl dressed only in track shoes and wearing a sign around her neck that reads “If You Catch Me, You Can Have Me.” The chase takes a good while longer this time, but later he finds he’s lost 20 pounds!&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;That night he calls and says, "I want to lose 50 pounds!"&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Fifty pounds?" the operator asks. "That’s an  awful lot."&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;The man replies, "Listen, just take care of it!"&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;About 7 a.m. the man hears a knock and opens the door. Outside stands an enormous gorilla with a sign around its neck that reads “If I catch you…”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112652417754826879?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112652417754826879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112652417754826879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652417754826879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652417754826879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/diet-goes-bananas.html' title='Diet goes bananas'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112652397680330051</id><published>2005-09-12T19:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T16:36:32.663+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rubbery Affair</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A man walks into a drugstore and asks the pharmacist for a pack of condoms. Paying for them, he bursts into laughter and walks out of the store. The next day he comes in again, again buys condoms, and again walks out laughing. Thinking this is somewhat strange, the pharmacist asks his assistant to follow the man if he comes back. Sure enough, the man comes in the next day and walks out laughing. This time the assistant goes after him, returning 20 minutes later.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"So did you follow him?" asks the pharmacist.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Yup."&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Where did he go?"&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Your house."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112652397680330051?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112652397680330051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112652397680330051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652397680330051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652397680330051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/rubbery-affair.html' title='Rubbery Affair'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112652377512509526</id><published>2005-09-12T19:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T01:35:21.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wine Snob Embarassed</title><content type='html'>A guy tries to impress his date with his knowledge of wine. He tells the wine steward to bring a bottle of 1985 Sterling Cabernet Sauvignon from the Carneros district. After tasting it, the young man berates the steward. "This is a 1992 vintage from the Diamond Creek vineyard in the Mayacamas range. Please bring me what I ordered." &lt;p&gt;Watching from the bar, an old drunk comes up to the table with a  glass in his hand and says, "Can you tell me what this  is?"&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Winking at his date, the young man sips from the drunk’s glass.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Christ, this tastes like piss!" he exclaims, spitting  it out.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;"Yeah," says the drunk, "but what year?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112652377512509526?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112652377512509526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112652377512509526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652377512509526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112652377512509526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/wine-snob-embarassed.html' title='Wine Snob Embarassed'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112651991367290419</id><published>2005-09-12T17:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T01:35:02.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets of Happy Marriage II</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;contributed by Chee Chiaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old couple never had a single quarrel over their 60 years of marriage. This prompts a friend to ask the old man how he managed to stand and put up with his old wife for such a long duration and no arguement occured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man relates his story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started when they were having fun riding donkeys during their honey moon. They were happily riding their donkey's on the country side when the wife's donkey come to a halt for a breather and refused to move. The way, unhappy, said "One..." .. a short moment later, the donkey moved and everything was fine again. The old man was impressed with what he saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moments passed, and the donkey stopped again. The wife said "Two..." and the donkey obeyed. The third time the donkey stopped, the wife whipped out a knife and stabbed the donkey to death, again.. and again.. and again....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man asked why did she do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife, covered in blood, calmly said "One..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112651991367290419?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112651991367290419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112651991367290419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112651991367290419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112651991367290419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/secrets-of-happy-marriage-ii.html' title='Secrets of Happy Marriage II'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112640543690792250</id><published>2005-09-11T10:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T08:07:06.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets of Happy Marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;from R. Hynes of Mornington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and i have the secret to making a marriage last. Twice a week, we go on a nice restaurant, have some good food, a little wine and companionship. She goes Tuesday and i go Friday. We sleep in separate beds, hers in Sydney mine in Melbourne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my wife everywhere, but she keeps finding her way back. I asked where she wanted to go for our anniversary, "Some where we haven't been for a long time", she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i suggested the kitchen. We always hold hands, if i let go, she shops. She has an electric blender, an electric toaster and an electric breadmaker. When she said that she had too many gadgets, but no where to sit down, i bought her an electric chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, marriage is the number one cause of divorce. Statistically 100% of all divorces started with marriage. I married Miss Right, I just didn't know her first name was Always. I haven't spoken to her for eighteen months - i don't like to interrupt her. The last time we had a fight, it was my fault. She asked "What's on TV?" i said "Dust".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning, God created the earth and rested. Then, God created man and rested. Then God created woman. And since then, neither God nor man rested.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112640543690792250?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112640543690792250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112640543690792250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640543690792250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640543690792250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/secrets-of-happy-marriage.html' title='Secrets of Happy Marriage'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112640494412314702</id><published>2005-09-11T10:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T08:06:48.133+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chinese Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Date: You get to buy her an expensive dinner and nothing happens.&lt;br /&gt;Second Date: The second dinner costs more and nothing happens still.&lt;br /&gt;Third Date: There is no third date cos you realised nothing's going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Japanese Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Date: She's shy, so you didn't kiss her at all.&lt;br /&gt;Second Date: She'll take a bath with you and let you smell all over.&lt;br /&gt;Third Date: You get to have kinky sex with her. Then she says 'Sayonara' as it was her fling before marrying a Japanese man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Indian Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Date: Meet her parents.&lt;br /&gt;Second Date: Set the date for the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;Third Date: Wedding night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112640494412314702?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112640494412314702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112640494412314702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640494412314702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640494412314702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/dating-game.html' title='Dating Game'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112640096724992326</id><published>2005-09-11T09:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T09:12:01.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deaf old man learns truth</title><content type='html'>An elderly man had serious hearing problems for a number of years. He went to the doctor and the doctor was able to have him fitted for a set of hearing aids tht allowed the gentleman to hear 100% again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly gentleman went back in a month to the doctor and the doctor said: "Your hearing is perfect. Your family must be really pleased that you can hear again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman replid: "Oh, i haven't told my family yet. I just sit around and listen to the conversations. I've changed my will three times!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112640096724992326?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112640096724992326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112640096724992326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640096724992326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640096724992326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/deaf-old-man-learns-truth.html' title='Deaf old man learns truth'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112640090128977287</id><published>2005-09-11T09:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T09:08:21.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous twin</title><content type='html'>A lady made it a point to breast feed her twins every night. Now A was jealous of B and so applied poison on the other nipple to get rid of him. Next day, the father was found dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112640090128977287?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112640090128977287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112640090128977287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640090128977287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112640090128977287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/jealous-twin.html' title='Jealous twin'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112634411180891241</id><published>2005-09-10T17:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T17:21:51.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman's Revenge</title><content type='html'>A beautiful young lady wearing a lovely summer dress is sitting peacefully on her own in a railway carriage when a crusty traveller enters the compartment, eating a tray of king prawns. The filthy youth sits opposite the woman, shelling his prawns and flicking the shells onto the floor, occasionally tossing one onto the young lady's lap with a sneer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he finishes his meal he casually screws up the carton he's been eating out of and throws it at the girl's face. The young lady then calmly stands up, picks up the shells from the floor, puts them in the  carton and throws the whole sorry mess out of the window. She then walks over to the emergency button and pulls it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You silly b*tch", the crusty says with a sneer. "That'll cost you $500 fine".&lt;br /&gt;"Yes", the lady replied. "And when the police smell your fingers, it'll cost you ten years."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112634411180891241?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112634411180891241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112634411180891241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112634411180891241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112634411180891241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/womans-revenge.html' title='Woman&apos;s Revenge'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112634374174529377</id><published>2005-09-10T17:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T17:15:41.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="a12black"&gt;The Good Lord is up in Heaven, moaning about the pressures and stresses of omnipotence and being Number One. He decides it’s time to go on holiday. He summons all his superbeing mates and they pop round with a few suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘What about Mars?’ says one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Nah,’ replies God. ‘I went there 15,000 years ago, and it was awful – no atmosphere and too dusty.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Pluto?’ suggests another. ‘No way,’ God pipes up. ‘I went there 10,000 years ago. Freezing. Awful place.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Well,’ says another of God’s protegés. ‘How about Mercury?’ God turns the suggestion down. ‘Been there. Nearly burnt my nuts off – never again.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Okay,’ says another of God’s favourite cronies. ‘How about Earth?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Woah!’ God exclaims. ‘Not a chance! I went there about 2,000 years ago, knocked up some bird and they’re still bloody talking about it!’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112634374174529377?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112634374174529377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112634374174529377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112634374174529377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112634374174529377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/holy-vacation.html' title='Holy Vacation'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112632295201512705</id><published>2005-09-10T11:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T11:29:12.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joseph learns a lesson</title><content type='html'>Little ten-year old Joseph goes for a long weekend with his uncle, a wealthy Texan farm owner. One evening, as Uncle Benny and his wife are entertaining the guests with cocktails, they are interupted by an out-of-breath Joseph who shouts out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uncle Benny! Come quick! The bull is f*cking the cow!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Benny is highly embarassed by his nephew's language and, taking young Joseph aside, explains that a certain amount of decorum is required.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You should have said, 'the bull is surprising the cow' - not some filth that you picked up from the playground", he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, Joseph comes in again as his aunt and uncle are entertaining. "Uncle Benny! The bull is surprising the cows!" The adults share a knowing grin. Uncle Benny says, "Thank you, Joseph, but sure you meant to say the cow, not cows. A bull cannot 'surprise' more than one cow ar a time, you know..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, he can!" replies the obstinate newphew.&lt;br /&gt;"He is f*cking the horse!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112632295201512705?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112632295201512705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112632295201512705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112632295201512705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112632295201512705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/joseph-learns-lesson.html' title='Joseph learns a lesson'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112624792383403269</id><published>2005-09-09T14:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T10:24:56.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Friends went to a pub...</title><content type='html'>A man walks into a pub with an ostrich and a pussy cat. He goes up the bar and says: "Beer for me, beer for the ostrich and a whiskey for the cat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sit down and drink their drinks. Next, it's the ostrich's round. He walks up to the bar and says: "Beer for me, beer for the man and whiskey for the cat." Then the ostrich goes back to the table and they drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to the cat's turn to buy a round, he simply tells his pals to "Sod Off!" So the man goes back to the bar and asks for another 2 beers and a whiskey. Impressed with his generousity, the barman asks "I noticed that both you and the ostrich has bought a round but the cat hasn't. Why do you hang out with him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replies: "I once helped a little old lady across the road, and she turned out to be Fairy Godmother. She granted me one wish, which landed me the cat and the ostrich forever."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did you wished for?" enquires the barman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A long legged bird with a tight pussy..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112624792383403269?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112624792383403269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112624792383403269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112624792383403269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112624792383403269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/3-friends-went-to-pub.html' title='3 Friends went to a pub...'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623777384316829</id><published>2005-09-09T11:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T19:24:16.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The D*ck Kingdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Courtesy of Alvin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a kingdom where the man with the longest d*ck would be made King and supreme ruler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, a young man (who believes that he's got a long d*ck) journeyed to the palace to challenge the king for his throne. He arrived at the gate and told the guards his intentions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guards challenge him to a duel. They both stripped their pants and the young man was beaten all ends up. The young man was amazed and thought that if the guard's d*ck is already that long, what about the king's? The guard agreed to take him for a tour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They met the Prince in the garden, the young man was shocked. The prince was using his d*ck like a watering hose to water the plants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he finally saw the king... and he nearly fainted. Take a while to guess what the king was doing with his d*ck....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was flying a kite!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623777384316829?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623777384316829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623777384316829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623777384316829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623777384316829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/dck-kingdom.html' title='The D*ck Kingdom'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623563732604649</id><published>2005-09-09T11:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T19:24:39.793+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf</title><content type='html'>Little Red Riding Hood is walking throught the woods one day, when she spies the wolf crouched down behind a bush. Thinking that i would be a laugh to make a bit of a change to sneak up on him for once, she creeps over and taps the wolf on his shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My, Mr. Wolf," she says with a big smork on her face. "What big eyes you have. Don't you want to play?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Leave me alone!" the wolf cries, and runs off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding Hood trails him for a way, and finds him behind a  large oak tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My, Mr. Wolf", she says, "What big ears you have. Don't you want to play?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For God's sake, please leave me alone!", the beast howls, and runs off into the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding Hood strikes out after him, and discovered him in a patch of stinging nettles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My, Mr. Wolf", she says, "What big teeth you have. Don't you want to play?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For Christ's Sake, leave me alone!" the wolf barks in fury. "I am trying to have a sh*t!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623563732604649?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623563732604649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623563732604649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623563732604649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623563732604649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/little-red-riding-hood-and-wolf.html' title='Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623494519534500</id><published>2005-09-09T10:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T19:25:29.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk who loses car</title><content type='html'>While walking his regular beat, a policeman is bemused to find a young man, who is clearly drunk, staggering about with a key in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They've stolen my car!", the drunk shouts. "It was right HERE, right at the end of this KEY!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"More importantly, sir", the policeman says, "Are you aware that your penis is hanging out of your trousers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my God!", wails the drunk. "The b*st*rds have got my girlfriend as well!".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623494519534500?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623494519534500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623494519534500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623494519534500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623494519534500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/drunk-who-loses-car.html' title='Drunk who loses car'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623464171995462</id><published>2005-09-09T10:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T10:58:23.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prison or Marriage?</title><content type='html'>A wife wakes up in the middle of the night to find her husband missing. Hearing sobbing from the living room, she goes down to find her husband crying his eyes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter?", she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You remember 20 years ago", the man sobs, "when i got you pregnant and your father was so angry he said i had to marry you or got to jail?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure, honey", the wife kindly replies. "What of it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", the man gasp throught desperate sobs, "I would have been released tonight."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623464171995462?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623464171995462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623464171995462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623464171995462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623464171995462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/prison-or-marriage.html' title='Prison or Marriage?'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623261371399129</id><published>2005-09-09T10:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T10:23:33.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Captain &amp; A Camel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="entry-content"&gt;    &lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;     &lt;p&gt;A captain in the foreigh legion is transferred to a desert outpost. There he notices an old, seedy looking camel that looks like someone i know (Handsome's Boss) at the back of the barracks and asks his sergeant what the animal is for.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Well, sir", he says. "We are fair distance from anywhere, and the men have natural sexual urges. When they do, uh, we have the camel".&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Gosh", says the captain. "Well, if its good for the men's morale, its allright with me".&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The captain soon becomes frustrated himself. Finally he cant stand it any longer and tells his sergeant : "Bring in the camel!"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The sarege shrugs his shoulder and lead the camel to the captain's quarters. The captain then gets a foot stool and begins having rigorous sex with the camel. As he steps down, satisfied, he asks his sergeant, "Is that how the enlisted men do it?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The sergeant, somewhat surprised, replies "Well... no sir, they usually just use it to ride to the brothel in town..."&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623261371399129?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623261371399129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623261371399129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623261371399129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623261371399129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/captain-camel.html' title='A Captain &amp; A Camel'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16531511.post-112623202276067126</id><published>2005-09-09T10:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T10:13:42.763+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The 2 Lawyers</title><content type='html'>2 lawyers are queuing at the bank one lunch time, when a man walks in with a handgun. The man tells all to empty their pockets, take off their jewellery and put it in the sack he is holding. As the thief gets closer to the lawyers, one of them takes out his wallet out of his pocket, opens it, and hands his companion RM 100.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whats this?" the friend ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh", says the first lawyer, "Its the RM 100 i owe you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16531511-112623202276067126?l=lotsalaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/112623202276067126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16531511&amp;postID=112623202276067126' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623202276067126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16531511/posts/default/112623202276067126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lotsalaugh.blogspot.com/2005/09/2-lawyers.html' title='The 2 Lawyers'/><author><name>Bruce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12335649951246518785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.thebottlestore.com.my/bruce/Crazy_Frog1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
