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Walking on the Moon



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> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


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> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >

> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters:


> >

> >


> >

> >

> >

> >


> > When you rearrange the letters

> > (With no letters left over and using each letter only once):


> >

> >

> > Yep! Someone with waaaaaaaaaaay

> > too much time on their hands!

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>>A woman was very distraught over the fact that she had not had a date for

>>over 5 years. She was afraid she might have something wrong with her, so

>>she decided to seek medical expertise with the well known Chinese

>>therapist, Dr Chang. Upon entering the examination room, Dr Chang said

>>"OK, take off all your crose." The woman did as she was told. Now get down

>>and craw reery, reery fass to odderside of room." Again the woman did as

>>she was instructed.

>>Dr Chang then said "OK, now craw reery, reery fass back to me." As she did

>>Dr Chang shook his head slowly. "Your probrem vewy bad. You have Ed

>>Zachary disease. Wurse case I ever see. Dat why you not haf dates." The

>>woman asked anxiously "Oh my God, Dr Chang what is Ed Zachary disease?" Dr

>>Chang sighed deeply and replied, "Ed Zachary disease is when your face

>>look Ed Zachary like your Bottom".

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>>A woman and a baby were in the doctor's examining room, waiting for


>>doctor to come in for the baby's first exam The doctor arrived,

>>examined the

>>baby, checked his weight, and being a little concerned, asked if the


>>was breast-fed or bottle-fed. "Breast-fed" she replied.

>>"Well, strip down to your waist," the doctor ordered.

>>She did.

>>He pinched her nipples, then pressed kneaded, and rubbed both breasts

>>for a

>>while in a detailed examination. Motioning to her to get dressed, he


>>"No wonder this baby is underweight, you don't have any milk."

>>"I know," she said, "I'm his Grandma, but I'm glad I came."

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A sadist, a masochist, a murderer, a necrophile, a zoophile

and a

pyromaniac are all sitting on a bench in a mental institution, bored

out of their minds.

"How about having sex with a cat?" asked the zoophile.

"Lets have sex with the cat and then torture it," says the sadist.

"Lets have sex with the cat, torture it and then kill it," shouted the


"Lets have sex with the cat, torture it, kill it and then have sex

with it again," said the necrophile.

"Lets have sex with the cat, torture it, kill it, have sex with it

again and then burn it," said the pyromaniac.

Silence took over... then everyone turned to the masochist and asked:

"So, what's it gonna be?"

To which he replies, "Meow."

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A man asked his wife what she'd like for her birthday.

"I'd love to be eight again." she replied.

On the morning of her birthday, he arose early,made

her a nice big bowl

of Coco Pops, and then took her off to the local theme


What a day! He put her on every ride in the park:

* the Death Slide,

* the Wall of Fear,

* the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster,

* every thing there was.

Five hours later she staggered out of the theme park.

Her head was

reeling and her stomach felt upside down.

Right away, they journeyed to a McDonald's where her

loving husband

ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a

refreshing chocolate

shake. Then it was off to the movies: the latest Star

Wars epic, a hot

dog, popcorn, all the Coke she could drink, and her

favourite lolly and


What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and

collapsed into bed

exhausted. He leaned over his precious wife with a big

smile and

lovingly asked, "Well,Dear, what was it like being

eight again?"

Her eyes slowly opened and her _expression suddenly


"I meant my dress size, you f*ckin tw*t"

The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening,

he's gonna get it wrong!

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A lady walks into a BMW dealership and browses around. Suddenly

she spots the most perfect, beautiful car and walks over to inspect it. As

she bends forward to feel the fine leather upholstery, an unexpected little

fart escapes her.

Very embarrassed, she anxiously looks around to see if anyone has

noticed and hopes a sales person doesn't pop up right now.

As she turns back, there standing next to her is a salesman. With

a pleasant smile he greets her, "Good day, Madame. How may we help

you today?"

Trying to maintain an air of sophistication and acting as though

nothing had happened, she smiles back and asks, "Sir, what is the price

of this lovely vehicle?"

Still smiling pleasantly, he replies, "Madame, I'm very sorry to

say that if you farted just touching it, you are going to $hit yourself

when you hear the price."

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> Subject: The moral of this story is.....


> The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment.

> Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.

> The

> next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

> Michael said, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying

> hens.

> One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front

> seat of

> the car when

> we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs went flying and broke

> and

> made a mess." "What's the moral of the story?" asked the teacher.

> "Don't

> put all your eggs in one basket!" Very good," said the teacher.

> Next little Sarah raised her hand and said,"Our family are farmers too.

> But

> we raise chickens for the meat market. We had a dozen eggs one time,

> but

> when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this

> story

> is, "don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

> "That was a fine story Sarah.

> Ashleigh, do you have a story to share?" "Yes, my daddy told me this

> story

> about my Aunty Karen. Aunty Karen was a flight engineer in the Gulf War

> and

> her plane was hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she

> had

> was a bottle of whisky, a machinegun and a machete. She drank the whisky

> on

> the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the

> middle

> of 100 enemy troops. She killed seventy of them with the machine gun

> until

> she ran out of bullets.

> Then she killed twenty more with the machete until the blade broke. And


> then she killed the last ten with her bare hands." "Good heavens," said

> the

> horrified teacher, "what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that


> horrible story?"

> "Stay the f**k away from Aunty Karen when she's been drinking".

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A sexy woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub... She


alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately. She


signaled that he should bring his face closer to hers. As he did,


gently caressed his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she asked,


stroking his face with both hands.

Actually, no," he replied. "Can you get him for me? I need to speak


him," she said, running her hands beyond his beard and into his



afraid I can't," breathed the bartender. "Is there anything I can


"Yes. I need for you to give him a message," she continued, running


forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple



fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. "What


I tell him?" the bartender managed to say.

>>>> > > >

Tell him, she whispered,

>>>> > > >

>>>> > > >

>>>> > > >

"there's no toilet paper, no hand soap, or paper towels in the

ladies room."

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Reverend John Flapps was the pastor of a small northern town. One

> > >day he was walking down Main Street and he happened to notice a

> female

> > >member of his congregation sitting in the town bar drinking beer.

> The reverend

> > > >wasn't happy. He walked through the open door of the bar and

> sat down next

> > >to the woman." Mrs Fitzgerald" he said sternly.

> > > > > "This is no place for a member of my congregation, why dont

> you let

> > >me take you home?". "Sure" she said with a slur, obviously very

> drunk.When

> > >Mrs Fitzgerald stood up from the bar she began to weave back and

> forth.

> > >The reverend realised that she'd had far too much to drink and he

> > >grabbed her arms to steady her.When he did, they both lost their

> balance and

> > >tumbled to the floor. After rolling around for a few seconds the

> reverend wound

> > >up on top of Mrs Fitzgerald, her skirt hitched up to her waist.

> > > > > The bartender looked over the bar and said "Here, here buddy

> we

> > >don't allow any of that behaviour in this bar!".

> > > > > The reverend looked up and said "But you don't understand,

> I'm

> > >Pastor Flapps".

> > > > > The bartender nodded and said "Oh well if you're that far in

> you

> > >might as well finish her off !!!"

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A "Pub" in New York city.

An Irishman enters and orders 3 Stouts. Drinks them slowly, taking in the scene and leaves.

Next day, same thing. And the day after that.

Pretty soon, he's become a fixture every afternoon. Making friends, drinking his 3 Stouts and going home.

Eventually, the bartender asks, "So, you've been coming in here for some time now, ordering the same thing and being a regular customer. I have to ask, what's with the 3 Stouts all the time?"

Irishman says, "They're for me brothers I left in Ireland. We always agreed, if one of us would leave Ireland, we'd always have a drink in honor of the others."

Everyone nods and understands the tradition.

A year or so goes by.

One day, the Irishman stops by and orders 2 Stouts. Drinks them as usual, then leaves.

Same thing next day. And the day after.

By now, the "buzz" is all over the pub. Everyone adds one and one and comes up with the same answer. Why did he not say something?

Finally, the bartender asks, "So, we've all seen you ordering your 2 Stouts and wonder, How did your brother pass, and which one?"

The Irishman, to the astonishment of all present, burst into laughter that shakes the windows and rattles the lights.

"Oh, no, my dear friends! Me brothers are fine! It's just that I quit drinking!"

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This is a bricklayer's accident report that was printed in the newsletter of the English equivalent of the Workers' Compensation Board. So here, thanks to John Sedgwick, is this Bricklayer's report.

Dear Sir;

I am writing in response to your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident reporting form. I put "Poor Planning" as the cause of my accident. You asked for a more complete explanation and I trust the following details will be sufficient.

I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work, I found I had some bricks left over which, when weighed later, were found to weigh 240 lbs. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor.

Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out, and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow descent of the 240 lbs of bricks. You will note on the accident reporting form that my weight is 135 lbs.

Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building.

In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel which was now proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed. This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions, and the broken collarbone, as listed in Section 3, accident reporting form.

Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley which I mentioned in Paragraph 2 of this correspondence. Fortunately, by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of the excruciating pain I was now beginning to experience.

At approximately the same time however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel weighed approximately 50 lbs.

I refer you again to my weight. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and severe lacerations of my legs and lower body.

Here my luck began to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked.

I am sorry to report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move and watching the empty barrel six stories above me, I again lost my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope.


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As opposed to normal chain letters/pyramid schemes, this one costs

nothing, and you can only win.

Simply send this e- mail to nine of your mates who are just as virile as



Anaesthetize your wife/girlfriend, put her in a large carton (don't

forget some ventilation holes), and Send it to the person who is top of

your list.

Soon your name will be at the top of the list, and you will receive

823,542 women through the post, statistically, among those women will be

at least.

0.5 Miss worlds.

2.5 Models.

463 Wild n*mphos.

3,234 Good-looking n*mphos.

20,198 Who enjoy multiple orgasms.

In total, that is 24,096 women who are simply hornier, less inhibited,

and tastier than the grumpy old bag you posted off, and the best of all,

your original package is guaranteed not to be one of those that come

back to you.


One guy for example who sent the letter to only 5 instead of 9 of his

friends got his original woman back, still in the old dressing gown he

sent her off in, with the same old migraine attack, and the accusative

expression on her face, On the same day, the international model he'd

been living with since he sent off his old woman moved out to live with

his best friend (to whom he had not sent the chain parcel).

While i am sending this letter, the guy that is in 6th place above me

has already received 837 women and is lying in hospital suffering from

exhaustion, outside his ward are 452 more packages,


This is a unique opportunity to achieve a totally satisfying s*x life,

no expensive meals out, no lengthy conversations about trivialities that

only interest women just so you can sc**w her, no obligations, no grumpy

old mother-in-law, and no unpleasant surprises like engagement or


Do not hesitate, send this letter to 9 of your friends today

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Christmas Cake Recipie

1 cup water

1 cup of brown sugar

1 tsp baking soda

1 cup of sugar

1 tsp salt

Lemon Juice

4 large eggs


1 bottle of Vodka

1 can of Red Bull

2 cups dried fruit


1. Sample the vodka to check the quality.

2. Take a large bowl, check the vodka again.

3. To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and mix with a little red bull and drink.

4. Repeat.

5. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

6. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again.

7. At this point its is best to make sure the vodka is still ok.

8. Flavour with red bull to taste.

9. Try another cup - just in case turn off the mixerer.

10. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

11. Pick fruit off floor

12. Mix on the turner.

13. If the dried fruit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver.

14. Shample the vodka to check for tonsisticitity, flavour with a little Bed Rull.

15. Next ssiffft two cups of salt. Or something … Who giveshz a shi**

16. Throw a pinch of Bed Rull over your shoulder

17. Pick up the can, mop the floor

18. Check the vodka

19. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

20. Add one table.

21. Add a shpoon of shugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

22. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over..

23. Don't forget to beat off the turner

24. Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the vodka and kick the dog.

25. Fall into bed.



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