Thursday, April 30, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
While she was flying down the road yesterday, a woman passed over a bridge only to find a cop with a radar gun on the other side lying in wait. The cop pulled her over, walked up to the car, with that classic patronizing smirk we all know and love asked 'What's your hurry?'
To which she replied: 'I'm late for work.'
'Oh yeah,' said the cop, 'what do you do?'
I'm a rectum stretcher,' she responded.
The cop stammered, 'A what?............A rectum stretcher? And just what does a rectum stretcher do?'
'Well,' she said, 'I start by inserting one finger, then work my way up to two fingers, then three, then four, then with my whole hand in. I work from side to side until I can get both hands in, and then I slowly but surely stretch it, until it's about 6 feet wide.'
'And just what the hell do you do with a 6 foot asshole?' he asked
'You give him a radar gun and park him behind a bridge...
Traffic Ticket $95.00,
Court Costs $45.00
Look on the Cop's Face.......PRICELESS
To which she replied: 'I'm late for work.'
'Oh yeah,' said the cop, 'what do you do?'
I'm a rectum stretcher,' she responded.
The cop stammered, 'A what?............A rectum stretcher? And just what does a rectum stretcher do?'
'Well,' she said, 'I start by inserting one finger, then work my way up to two fingers, then three, then four, then with my whole hand in. I work from side to side until I can get both hands in, and then I slowly but surely stretch it, until it's about 6 feet wide.'
'And just what the hell do you do with a 6 foot asshole?' he asked
'You give him a radar gun and park him behind a bridge...
Traffic Ticket $95.00,
Court Costs $45.00
Look on the Cop's Face.......PRICELESS
3 Wishes
A beautiful fairy appeared one day to a destitute refugee claimant outside a Vancouver immigration office. 'My good man,' the fairy said, 'I've been told to grant you three wishes, since you just arrived in Canada with your wife and three children.'
The man told the fairy. 'Well, where I come from we don't have good teeth, so I want new teeth, maybe a lot of gold in them.'
The fairy looked at the man's almost toothless grin and -- PING ! -- he had a brand new shining set of gold teeth in his mouth!
'What else?' asked the fairy, 'two more to go.'
The refugee claimant now got bolder. 'I need a big house with a three car garage in North Vancouver on the water with eight bedrooms for my family and the rest of my relatives who still live in my country. I want to bring them all over here...'
PING ! - In the distance there could be seen a beautiful mansion with a three car garage, a long driveway, a walkout patio with a BBQ in an upscale neighborhood overlooking the bay.
'One more wish', said the fairy, waving her wand.
'Yes, one more wish. I want to be like a Canadian with Canadian clothes instead of these torn clothes, and a baseball cap instead of this turban. And I want to have white skin like Canadians.'
PING ! - The man was transformed, wearing worn out jeans, a Canucks T-shirt and a baseball cap. He had his bad teeth back and the mansion had disappeared from the horizon.
'What happened to my new teeth?' he wailed. 'Where is my new house?'
The fairy said 'Tough shit, Mac, now that you are a White Canadian you have to fend for yourself.'
And she disappeared!
The man told the fairy. 'Well, where I come from we don't have good teeth, so I want new teeth, maybe a lot of gold in them.'
The fairy looked at the man's almost toothless grin and -- PING ! -- he had a brand new shining set of gold teeth in his mouth!
'What else?' asked the fairy, 'two more to go.'
The refugee claimant now got bolder. 'I need a big house with a three car garage in North Vancouver on the water with eight bedrooms for my family and the rest of my relatives who still live in my country. I want to bring them all over here...'
PING ! - In the distance there could be seen a beautiful mansion with a three car garage, a long driveway, a walkout patio with a BBQ in an upscale neighborhood overlooking the bay.
'One more wish', said the fairy, waving her wand.
'Yes, one more wish. I want to be like a Canadian with Canadian clothes instead of these torn clothes, and a baseball cap instead of this turban. And I want to have white skin like Canadians.'
PING ! - The man was transformed, wearing worn out jeans, a Canucks T-shirt and a baseball cap. He had his bad teeth back and the mansion had disappeared from the horizon.
'What happened to my new teeth?' he wailed. 'Where is my new house?'
The fairy said 'Tough shit, Mac, now that you are a White Canadian you have to fend for yourself.'
And she disappeared!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
This is tooooooooo weird!
Have you ever noticed that if you rearrange the letters in “illegal immigrants” and add a few more letters, it actually spells out: “Fuck off and go home all you benefit-stealing, kid-producing, no-English-speaking cocksuckers, and take those hairy-faced, sandal-wearing, bomb-making, goat-fucking, mutton-eating, smelly raghead bastards with you.”
How weird is that ??
Have you ever noticed that if you rearrange the letters in “illegal immigrants” and add a few more letters, it actually spells out: “Fuck off and go home all you benefit-stealing, kid-producing, no-English-speaking cocksuckers, and take those hairy-faced, sandal-wearing, bomb-making, goat-fucking, mutton-eating, smelly raghead bastards with you.”
How weird is that ??
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
In 1923, Who Was:
1. President of the largest steel company?
2. President of the largest gas company?
3. President of the New York stock Exchange?
4. Greatest wheat speculator?
5. President of the Bank of International Settlement?
6. Great Bear of Wall Street?
These men were considered some of the worlds most successful of their days.
Now, 80 years later, the history book asks us if we know what ultimately became of them.
The Answers:
1. The president of the largest steel company.
Charles Schwab,
died a pauper.
2. The president of the largest gas company,
Edward Hopson,
went insane.
3. The president of the NYSE,
Richard Whitney,
was released from prison to die at home.
4. The greatest wheat speculator,
Arthur Cooger,
died abroad, penniless.
5.. The president of
the Bank of International Settlement,
shot himself.
6 The Great Bear of Wall Street,
Cosabee Livermore,
also committed suicide
However,
in that same year, 1923, the PGA Champion
and the winner of the most important golf tournament,
the US Open,
was
Gene Sarazen.
What became of him?
He played golf until he was 92,
died in 1999 at the age of 95.
He was financially secure
at the time of his death.
The Moral:
Fuck work..
Play golf.
1. President of the largest steel company?
2. President of the largest gas company?
3. President of the New York stock Exchange?
4. Greatest wheat speculator?
5. President of the Bank of International Settlement?
6. Great Bear of Wall Street?
These men were considered some of the worlds most successful of their days.
Now, 80 years later, the history book asks us if we know what ultimately became of them.
The Answers:
1. The president of the largest steel company.
Charles Schwab,
died a pauper.
2. The president of the largest gas company,
Edward Hopson,
went insane.
3. The president of the NYSE,
Richard Whitney,
was released from prison to die at home.
4. The greatest wheat speculator,
Arthur Cooger,
died abroad, penniless.
5.. The president of
the Bank of International Settlement,
shot himself.
6 The Great Bear of Wall Street,
Cosabee Livermore,
also committed suicide
However,
in that same year, 1923, the PGA Champion
and the winner of the most important golf tournament,
the US Open,
was
Gene Sarazen.
What became of him?
He played golf until he was 92,
died in 1999 at the age of 95.
He was financially secure
at the time of his death.
The Moral:
Fuck work..
Play golf.
Class Trip
A group of 3rd, 4th and 5th graders, accompanied by two female teachers, went on a field trip to the local racetrack, (Churchill Downs) to learn about thoroughbred horses and the supporting industry (Bourbon), but mostly to see the horses.
When it was time to take the children to the bathroom, it was decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go with the other.
The teacher assigned to the boys was waiting outside the men's room when one of the boys came out and told her that none of them could reach the urinal.
Having no choice, she went inside, helped the boys with their pants, and began hoisting the little boys up one by one, holding on to their 'wee-wees' to direct the flow away from their clothes . As she lifted one, she couldn't help but notice that he was unusually well endowed.
Trying not to show that she was staring the teacher said, 'You must be in the 5th grade.'
'No, ma'am', he replied. 'I'm riding Silver Arrow in the seventh race, but I appreciate your help.'
When it was time to take the children to the bathroom, it was decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go with the other.
The teacher assigned to the boys was waiting outside the men's room when one of the boys came out and told her that none of them could reach the urinal.
Having no choice, she went inside, helped the boys with their pants, and began hoisting the little boys up one by one, holding on to their 'wee-wees' to direct the flow away from their clothes . As she lifted one, she couldn't help but notice that he was unusually well endowed.
Trying not to show that she was staring the teacher said, 'You must be in the 5th grade.'
'No, ma'am', he replied. 'I'm riding Silver Arrow in the seventh race, but I appreciate your help.'
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
LITTLE JOHNNY & VIAGRA
The Teacher asks kindergarten students what kind of medicines they know and what they are used for.
First pupil: 'Tylenol?'
Teacher: 'Very good! And what is it used for?'
Pupil: 'It is used for headaches.'
Second pupil: ''Nytol'
Teacher: 'Excellent. And what it is used for?'
Pupil: 'To help you sleep.'
Now it's Johnny's turn and he says: 'Viagra'
Teacher, slightly shocked: 'Johnny, What do you think is it used for?'
Johnny: 'It can be used for diarrhea.'
Teacher: 'Who told you this?'
Johnny: 'Nobody, but every evening my mother tells my father ..
'Take a Viagra, maybe that little shit will get harder.'
First pupil: 'Tylenol?'
Teacher: 'Very good! And what is it used for?'
Pupil: 'It is used for headaches.'
Second pupil: ''Nytol'
Teacher: 'Excellent. And what it is used for?'
Pupil: 'To help you sleep.'
Now it's Johnny's turn and he says: 'Viagra'
Teacher, slightly shocked: 'Johnny, What do you think is it used for?'
Johnny: 'It can be used for diarrhea.'
Teacher: 'Who told you this?'
Johnny: 'Nobody, but every evening my mother tells my father ..
'Take a Viagra, maybe that little shit will get harder.'
Monday, April 20, 2009
WAL-MART GREETER
A very loud, unattractive, hateful-acting woman walked into Wal-Mart with
her two kids, yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.
The Wal-Mart Greeter said pleasantly "Good morning, and welcome to
Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?"
The ugly woman stopped yelling long enough to say, "Hell no they ain't!
The oldest one's 9 and the other one's 7. Why the hell would you think
they're twins? Are you blind, or just plain stupid?"
"I'm neither blind nor stupid, Ma'am," replied the greeter. "I just
couldn't believe you got laid twice. Have a good day and thank you for
shopping at Wal-Mart."
her two kids, yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.
The Wal-Mart Greeter said pleasantly "Good morning, and welcome to
Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?"
The ugly woman stopped yelling long enough to say, "Hell no they ain't!
The oldest one's 9 and the other one's 7. Why the hell would you think
they're twins? Are you blind, or just plain stupid?"
"I'm neither blind nor stupid, Ma'am," replied the greeter. "I just
couldn't believe you got laid twice. Have a good day and thank you for
shopping at Wal-Mart."
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Two Newfies, Archie and Harry, were driving down the road drinking a couple of beers.
The passenger, Harry, suddenly said, 'Lord tundering...up ahead -- it's a police roadblock!! We're gonna get busted fro drinkin' dese here beers!!'
'Don't worry,' Archie said. 'We'll just pull over and finish dese beers, then peel off the label, stick it on our foreheads, and trow the bottles under the seat.'
'What fer?'
'Jist let me do de talkin', OK?'
So they finished their beers, threw the empties out of sight and put a lable on each of their foreheads.
When they reached the roadblock, the police officer took a long look at the two of them and said, 'You boys been drinkin'?'
'No sir,' said Archie, pointing at the labels....
'We're on the patch.'
The passenger, Harry, suddenly said, 'Lord tundering...up ahead -- it's a police roadblock!! We're gonna get busted fro drinkin' dese here beers!!'
'Don't worry,' Archie said. 'We'll just pull over and finish dese beers, then peel off the label, stick it on our foreheads, and trow the bottles under the seat.'
'What fer?'
'Jist let me do de talkin', OK?'
So they finished their beers, threw the empties out of sight and put a lable on each of their foreheads.
When they reached the roadblock, the police officer took a long look at the two of them and said, 'You boys been drinkin'?'
'No sir,' said Archie, pointing at the labels....
'We're on the patch.'
Thursday, April 16, 2009
An Australian guy is travelling around the Greek Islands . He walks into a
bar and, by chance, is served by an Australian barmaid. As she takes his
order, a Foster's, she notices his accent.
Over the course of the evening they get chatting. At the end of her shift
he asks if she wants to come back to his place.
Although she is attracted to him she says no. He then offers to pay her
$200 to sleep with him.
As she is travelling around the world, and is short of funds, she agrees.
The next night the guy turns up again. Again he orders Fosters and after
showing her plenty of attention, asks if she will sleep with him again for
$200. She remembers the night before and is only too happy to agree.
This goes on for 5 nights. On the 6th night the guy comes in again, orders
Fosters but goes and sits in the corner. The barmaid thinks that if she
pays him more attention then, maybe she can shake some more cash out of him.
So she goes over and sits next to him.
She asks him where he's from in Australia .
' Melbourne ', he tells her.
'So am I. What suburb?' she enquires.
'Glen Iris' he replies.
'That's amazing,' she says excitedly, 'so am I - what street?' ' Cameo
Street ' he replies.
'This is unbelievable.........' she says, her voice quavering; 'What
number?' 'Number 20', he replies.
She is totally astonished.
'You are NOT going to believe this,' she screams, 'but I'm from number 22!
My parents still live there!'
'I know...' he says, 'Your Dad gave me $1,000 to give to you'
HE WHO DRINKS AUSTRALIAN, THINKS AUSTRALIAN
bar and, by chance, is served by an Australian barmaid. As she takes his
order, a Foster's, she notices his accent.
Over the course of the evening they get chatting. At the end of her shift
he asks if she wants to come back to his place.
Although she is attracted to him she says no. He then offers to pay her
$200 to sleep with him.
As she is travelling around the world, and is short of funds, she agrees.
The next night the guy turns up again. Again he orders Fosters and after
showing her plenty of attention, asks if she will sleep with him again for
$200. She remembers the night before and is only too happy to agree.
This goes on for 5 nights. On the 6th night the guy comes in again, orders
Fosters but goes and sits in the corner. The barmaid thinks that if she
pays him more attention then, maybe she can shake some more cash out of him.
So she goes over and sits next to him.
She asks him where he's from in Australia .
' Melbourne ', he tells her.
'So am I. What suburb?' she enquires.
'Glen Iris' he replies.
'That's amazing,' she says excitedly, 'so am I - what street?' ' Cameo
Street ' he replies.
'This is unbelievable.........' she says, her voice quavering; 'What
number?' 'Number 20', he replies.
She is totally astonished.
'You are NOT going to believe this,' she screams, 'but I'm from number 22!
My parents still live there!'
'I know...' he says, 'Your Dad gave me $1,000 to give to you'
HE WHO DRINKS AUSTRALIAN, THINKS AUSTRALIAN
Gynecologist's Assistant
A young man goes into the Job Center in Halifax, Nova Scotia,
and sees a card advertising for a Gynecologist's Assistant.
Interested, he goes to learn more - "Can you give me some more
details?" he asks the clerk.
The clerk pulls up the file and says, "The job entails getting
the ladies ready for the gynecologist. You have to help them out of their
underwear, lay them down and carefully wash their private regions, then
apply shaving foam and gently shave off the hair, then rub in soothing
oils
so that they're ready for the gynecologist's examination.
There's an annual salary of $45,000, but you're going to have
to
go to Moncton, New Brunswick. That's about 400 miles from here."
"Oh, is that where the job is?"
"No, sir - that's where the end of the line is right now."
Hope this made you smile! have a nice day!
and sees a card advertising for a Gynecologist's Assistant.
Interested, he goes to learn more - "Can you give me some more
details?" he asks the clerk.
The clerk pulls up the file and says, "The job entails getting
the ladies ready for the gynecologist. You have to help them out of their
underwear, lay them down and carefully wash their private regions, then
apply shaving foam and gently shave off the hair, then rub in soothing
oils
so that they're ready for the gynecologist's examination.
There's an annual salary of $45,000, but you're going to have
to
go to Moncton, New Brunswick. That's about 400 miles from here."
"Oh, is that where the job is?"
"No, sir - that's where the end of the line is right now."
Hope this made you smile! have a nice day!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Some years ago, Paddy married an attractive woman, Maggie, half his age, in a small coastal Irish community.
After several months, Maggie complained that she had never climaxed during sex and according to her Grandmother all Irish women are entitled to a climax once in a while.
So, to resolve the problem, since there was no trustworthy doctor anywhere in the village, they went to see the local Veterinarian.
The Vet didn't have a clue, but he did recall how, during the hot summer, his mother and father would fan a cow that was having difficulty breeding with a big towel. This would cool her down and make her relax.
So the Vet told them to hire a strong, virile young man to wave a big towel over them while they were having sex. This, the Vet said, would cause the young wife to cool down, relax, then climax.
So the couple hired a strong young man from Dublin to wave that big towel over them as the Vet suggested.
After many efforts, Maggie still had not climaxed so they went back to the Vet. The Vet said for her to change partners and let the young man have sex with her while Paddy waved the big towel.
They tried it that night and Maggie went into wild, screaming, ear-splitting climaxes, one right after the other for about two and a half hours.
When it was over, Paddy looked down at the exhausted young man, and in a boasting voice said: 'And that, me son, is how ya waves a fukkin' towel!'
After several months, Maggie complained that she had never climaxed during sex and according to her Grandmother all Irish women are entitled to a climax once in a while.
So, to resolve the problem, since there was no trustworthy doctor anywhere in the village, they went to see the local Veterinarian.
The Vet didn't have a clue, but he did recall how, during the hot summer, his mother and father would fan a cow that was having difficulty breeding with a big towel. This would cool her down and make her relax.
So the Vet told them to hire a strong, virile young man to wave a big towel over them while they were having sex. This, the Vet said, would cause the young wife to cool down, relax, then climax.
So the couple hired a strong young man from Dublin to wave that big towel over them as the Vet suggested.
After many efforts, Maggie still had not climaxed so they went back to the Vet. The Vet said for her to change partners and let the young man have sex with her while Paddy waved the big towel.
They tried it that night and Maggie went into wild, screaming, ear-splitting climaxes, one right after the other for about two and a half hours.
When it was over, Paddy looked down at the exhausted young man, and in a boasting voice said: 'And that, me son, is how ya waves a fukkin' towel!'
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Actual letter to the Canadian Passport office
Dear Mr. Minister,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this.
How is it that Radio Shack has my address and telephone number and knows
that I bought a t.v. cable from them back in 1997, and yet, the Federal
Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date.
For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand?
My birth date you have on my social insurance card, and it is on all the
income tax forms I've filed for the past 30 years. It is on my health
insurance card, my driver's license, on the last eight goddamn passports
I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out
before being allowed off the planes over the last 30 years, and all those
insufferable census forms that are done at election times.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is
Maryanne, my father's name is Robert and I'd be absolutely astounded if that
ever changed between now and when I die!!!!!!
SHIT!
I apologize, Mr. Minister. I'm really pissed off this morning. Between you
an' me, I've had enough of this bullshit! You send the application to my
house, then you ask me for my fuckin' address. What is going on? You have a
gang of Neanderthal assholes workin' there!
Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to dig up
Yasser Arafat, for shit sakes. I just want to go and park my ass on a sandy
beach.
And would someone please tell me, why would you give a shit whether I plan
on visiting a farm in the next 15 days? If I ever got the urge to do
something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I'd sure as hell not
want to tell anyone!
Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the city and
get another fuckin' copy of my birth certificate, to the tune of $60!!!
Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to
assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day??
Nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd rather have us
running all over the fuckin' place like chickens with our heads cut off,
then find some asshole to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn picture
- you know, the one where we're not allowed to smile?! (fuckin'
morons)
Hey, you know why we can't smile? We're totally pissed off!
Signed - An Irate fucking Canadian Citizen.
P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone to
confirm that it's me? Well, my family has been in this country since 1776
when one of my forefathers took up arms against the Americans. I have served
in the military for something over 30 years and have had security clearances
up the yingyang.
I was aide de camp to the lieutenant governor of our province for ten years
and I have been doing volunteer work for the RCMP for about five years.
However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am - you know,
someone like my doctor
WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN
COMMUNIST FUCKING CHINA !!!!!!!
I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this.
How is it that Radio Shack has my address and telephone number and knows
that I bought a t.v. cable from them back in 1997, and yet, the Federal
Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date.
For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand?
My birth date you have on my social insurance card, and it is on all the
income tax forms I've filed for the past 30 years. It is on my health
insurance card, my driver's license, on the last eight goddamn passports
I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out
before being allowed off the planes over the last 30 years, and all those
insufferable census forms that are done at election times.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is
Maryanne, my father's name is Robert and I'd be absolutely astounded if that
ever changed between now and when I die!!!!!!
SHIT!
I apologize, Mr. Minister. I'm really pissed off this morning. Between you
an' me, I've had enough of this bullshit! You send the application to my
house, then you ask me for my fuckin' address. What is going on? You have a
gang of Neanderthal assholes workin' there!
Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to dig up
Yasser Arafat, for shit sakes. I just want to go and park my ass on a sandy
beach.
And would someone please tell me, why would you give a shit whether I plan
on visiting a farm in the next 15 days? If I ever got the urge to do
something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I'd sure as hell not
want to tell anyone!
Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the city and
get another fuckin' copy of my birth certificate, to the tune of $60!!!
Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to
assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day??
Nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd rather have us
running all over the fuckin' place like chickens with our heads cut off,
then find some asshole to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn picture
- you know, the one where we're not allowed to smile?! (fuckin'
morons)
Hey, you know why we can't smile? We're totally pissed off!
Signed - An Irate fucking Canadian Citizen.
P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone to
confirm that it's me? Well, my family has been in this country since 1776
when one of my forefathers took up arms against the Americans. I have served
in the military for something over 30 years and have had security clearances
up the yingyang.
I was aide de camp to the lieutenant governor of our province for ten years
and I have been doing volunteer work for the RCMP for about five years.
However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am - you know,
someone like my doctor
WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN
COMMUNIST FUCKING CHINA !!!!!!!
Monday, April 13, 2009
MY JOB
This is even funnier when you realize it's real! Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy.
Bob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana .
He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister.
She then sent it to radio station 103.5 on FM dial in Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.
Needless to say, she won. Read his letter below.
************************************************************************
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea.
I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.
Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my ass was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my ass.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't shit for two days because my ass was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your ass. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.' Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day? May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day! !!!!
Bob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana .
He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister.
She then sent it to radio station 103.5 on FM dial in Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.
Needless to say, she won. Read his letter below.
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Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea.
I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.
Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my ass was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my ass.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't shit for two days because my ass was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your ass. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.' Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day? May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day! !!!!
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