PS & don't forget, when you die, they just dump you over the side, no charge. Have a great retirement.

If Men Wrote the Rules

Rule # 1: Anything we said six or eight months ago is inadmissible in an argument. All comments become null and void after seven days.

Rule # 2: If you don't want to dress like Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

Rule # 3: If we say something that can be interpreted in two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other way.

Rule # 4: It is in neither your best interest or ours to make us take those stupid Cosmo quizzes together.

Rule # 5: Let us ogle. If we don't look at other women how can we know how pretty you are?

Rule # 6: Don't rub the lamp if you don't want the genie to come out.

Rule # 7: You can either ask us to do something OR tell us how you want it done - not both.

Rule # 8: Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials or time-outs.

Rule # 9: Columbus didn't need directions and neither do we.

Rule # 10: Women who wear Wonderbras and low-cut blouses lose their right to complain about having their chests stared at.

Rule # 11: When we're turning the wheel and the car is nosing onto the off ramp, you saying "This is our exit" is not necessary.

After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.

The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process. After observing several applicants demonstrate their skill, he had decided to call it a day. Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer's job.

The bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!"

"No matter," said the man. "Observe!"

And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon. The bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a replacement for Quasimodo.

But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below. The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before.

As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked, "Bishop, who was this man?" "I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied,
(scroll down)

"BUT HIS FACE RINGS A BELL"....

WAIT! WAIT! There's more.............

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty."

The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot.

Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief of this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side. "What has happened? Who is the man?" the first monk asked breathlessly.

"I don't know his name, "sighed the distraught bishop,

but............"

(.....Wait for it......)

(.......It's worth it.......)

"HE'S A DEAD RINGER FOR HIS BROTHER"...

The attached is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96 year-old woman.

The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
To whom it may concern,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his depositing the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly transfer of funds from my modest savings account, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty-one years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has recently become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact Status form which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be
accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Please allow me to level the playing field even further. When you call me, you will now have a menu of options on my new voice mail system to choose from.

Please press the buttons as follows:

1. To make an appointment to see me.

2. To query a missing payment.

3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.

4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.

5.      To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.

6.      To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.

7.      To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required.
        Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.

8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.

9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee of $50 to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. Please credit my account after each occasion.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client,

(Remember: This was written by a 96 year old)

Just Rewards

A man meets a gorgeous woman in a bar. They talk, they connect, they end up leaving together.

They get back to her place, and as she shows him around her apartment, he notices that her bedroom is completely packed with
teddy bears. Hundreds of small bears on a shelf all the way along the floor, medium sized ones on a shelf a little higher and huge
bears on the top shelf along the wall. The man is kind of surprised that this woman would have a collection of teddy bears, especially one that's so extensive, but he decides not to mention this to her.

After a night of passion, as they are lying together in the after glow the man rolls over and asks, smiling, "Well, how was it?"

The woman says, "You can have any prize from the bottom shelf."

Easy Palm Reading

Paul was ambling through a crowded street fair when he decided to stop and sit at a Palm Reader's table. Said the mysterious old woman, "For fifteen dollars, I can read your love line and tell your romantic future."

Paul readily agreed and the reader took one look at his open palm and said, "I can see that you have no girlfriend."

"That's true," said Paul.

"Oh my goodness, you are extremely lonely, aren't you?"

"Yes," Paul shamefully admitted. "That's amazing. Can you tell all of this from my love line?"

"Love line? No, from the calluses."

You GOTTA Love This!!!!!!!!

The Rambo Granny of Melbourne, Australia

Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when two thugs raped her 18-year-old granddaughter that she tracked the unsuspecting ex-cons down - - and shot off their testicles.

The old lady spent a week hunting those men down -- and when she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way, said Melbourne police investigator Evan Delp. Then she took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant's desk and told him as calm as could be:

'Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.' Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth, 33, lost both his penis and his testicles when outraged Ava opened fire with a 9-mm pistol in the hotel room where he and former prison cellmate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up.

The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas' testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled penis, police said. The one guy, Thomas, didn't lose his manhood, but the doctor I talked to said he won't be using it the way he used to, Detective Delp told reporters. Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they're just happy to be alive after what they've been through.

The Rambo Granny swung into action August 21 after her granddaughter Debbie was carjacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row. "When I saw the look on my Debbie's face that night in the hospital, I decided I was going to go out and get those bastards myself 'cause I figured the Law would go easy on them," recalled the retired library worker. "And I wasn't scared of them, either-- because I've got me a gun and I've been shootin' all my life. And I wasn't dumb enough to turn it in when the law changed about owning one."

So, using a police artist's sketch of the suspects and Debbie's description of the sickos', tough-as-nails Ava spent seven days prowling the wino-infested neighborhood where the crime took place till she spotted the ill fated rapists entering their flophouse hotel.

I knew it was them the minute I saw 'em, but I shot a picture of 'em anyway and took it back to Debbie and she said sure as hell, it was them, the oldster recalled.

So I went back to that hotel and found their room and knocked on the door and the minute the big one, Furth, opened the door, I shot 'em right square between the legs, right where it would really hurt 'em most, you know.
Then I went in and shot the other one as he backed up pleading to me to spare him. Then I went down to the police station and turned myself in.

Now, baffled lawmen are trying to figure out exactly how to deal with the vigilante granny. What she did was wrong, and she broke the law, but it is difficult to throw an 81-year-old woman in prison, Det. Delp said, especially when 3 million people in the city want to nominate her for sainthood and a medal.

DEPORT HER TO AMERICA -- WE NEED HER!!!