The Monday Morning Mirth

Category: Uncategorized

  • What Makes 100%

    What makes 100%?

    What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?

    Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%?

    We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%.

    How about achieving 103%?

    Here’s a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

    If:

    A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

    is represented as:

    1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26,

    then:

    H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K

    8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

    and,

    K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E

    11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

    But,

    A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E

    1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

    And,

    B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T

    21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

    and, look how far ass kissing will take you:

    A-S-S–K-I-S-S-I-N-G

    1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%

    So, one can then conclude with mathematical certainty that:

    While Hardwork and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, Bullshit and Ass Kissing will put you over the top!

  • Your 5 Corporate Lessons for Today

    Lesson 1: Share critical information pertaining to Credit and Risk

    A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower when the doorbell rings. After a few seconds of arguing over which one should go and answer the doorbell, the wife gives up, quickly wraps herself up in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next door neighbour. Before she says a word, Bob says, "I’ll give you $800 to drop that towel that you have on" After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob. After a few seconds, Bob hands her 800 dollars and leaves. Confused, but excited about her good fortune, the woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets back to the bathroom, her husband asks from the shower, "Who was that?" "It was Bob the next door neighbour," she replies. "Great!" the husband says, "Did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?" Moral of the story: If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk in a timely fashion with your stakeholders, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.

    Corporate Lesson 2: Always be well informed

    A priest was driving along and saw a nun on the side of the road. He stopped and offered her a lift which she accepted. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to open and reveal a lovely leg. The priest had a look and nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg. The nun looked at him and immediately said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?" The priest was flustered and apologized profusely. He forced himself to remove his hand. Changing gear, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, "Father, remember Psalm 129?" Once again the priest apologized "Sorry sister but the flesh is weak." Arriving at the convent, the nun got out gave him a meaningful glance and went on her way. On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to retrieve a bible and looked up Psalm 129. It Said, "Go forth and seek. Further on, you will find glory." Moral of the story: Always be well informed in your job, or you might miss a great opportunity.

    Corporate Lesson 3: Respect leadership hierarchy wisely

    A sales rep, an administration clerk and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out in a puff of smoke. The Genie says, "I usually only grant three wishes, so I’ll give each of you just one." "Me first! Me first!" says the admin clerk. "I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speed boat, without a care in the world.." Poof! She’s gone. In astonishment, "Me next! Me next!" says the sales rep. "I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of pina coladas and the love of my life." Poof! He’s gone. "OK, you’re up," the Genie says to the manager. The manager says, "I want those two back in the office after lunch." Moral of the story: Always let your boss have the first say.

    Corporate Lesson 4: Know your position in the corporate structure

    A crow was sitting on a tree, doing nothing all day. A small rabbit saw the crow, and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing all day long?" The crow answered: "Sure, why not." So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the crow, and rested. All of a sudden a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it. Moral of the story: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.

    Corporate Lesson 5: Advancement Strategies

    A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, but I haven’t got the energy. "Well, why don’t you nibble on some of my droppings?" replied the bull. "They’re packed with nutrients." The turkey pecked at a lump of dung and found that it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, there he was proudly perched at the top of the tree. Soon he was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree. Moral of the story: Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won’t keep you there

  • Onestone the Indian Brave

    This is the story of Onestone, the Indian Brave.

    This was his Indian name given to him because he had only one testicle. After years and years of this torment Onestone cracked and said, "If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!"

    The word got around and nobody called him that any more. Then one day a young girl named Blue Bird forgot and said, "Good morning Onestone." He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the forest. There he screwed her all day, he screwed her all night, he screwed her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion. The word got around that Onestone meant business.

    Years went by until a woman named Yellow Bird returned to the village after many years away. Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird’s cousin, was overjoyed when she saw Onestone and hugged him and said, "Good to see you Onestone." Onestone grabbed her and took her deep into the forest where he screwed her all day, screwed her all night, screwed her all the next day, screwed her all the next night, but Yellow Bird wouldn’t die!

    What is the moral of the story?

    Every one knows you can’t kill two birds with one stone.

  • Two Old Men

    Two old men decide they are close to their last day on earth and decide to have a last night on the town. After a few drinks they end up at the local brothel. The madam takes one look at the two old geezers and whispers to her manager, "go up to the first two rooms and put an inflated doll in each bed. These two are so old and drunk, I’m not wasting two of my girls on them. They won’t know the difference."

    Her manager does as he is told and the two old men go up stairs and take care of their business. As they walked home the first one says, "You know, I think my girl was dead!"

    "Dead?" says his friend, "why would you think that?"

    "Well, she never moved or made a sound all the time I was loving her."

    His friend says, "I think mine was a witch."

    "A WITCH!!! Why the hell would you say that?"

    "Well, I was making love to her, kissing on her neck and I gave it a little bite, then she farted and flew out the window!!"

  • A Letter of Complaint

    Dear Cretins,

    I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your four-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, telephone, and alarm monitoring. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative and seek to rectify these difficulties — or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking, and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

    My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website. HOW? I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes — an activity at which you are no doubt both familiar and highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools — such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over four weeks my modem arrived, six weeks after I had requested, and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet server’s downtime is roughly 35% — the hours between about 6pm and midnight, Monday through Friday, and most of the weekend.

    I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made nine calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals who are, it seems, also highly skilled bollock jugglers. I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answering machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman, and several other variations on this theme.

    Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle moments to attend to. Frankly I don’t care. It’s far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

    I truly thought British Telecom was shit, and they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations; and that no one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That’s why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn’t anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

    BT — wankers though they are — shine like brilliant beacons of success in the filthy mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver. Any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief and will quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.

    I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cat’s litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit — they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.

    Have a nice day. May it be the last in your miserable short lives, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.

  • The Flight Simulator Pilot

    Darling,

    I’m posting this message in your newsgroup as I know this is the only way to get it to you since flight simulation entered our lives two years ago.

    The children are doing well. Our son is seven now and is a bright and handsome boy. He has developed quite a flair for art. He drew a family portrait for a school project. All the figures were good, but yours was excellent. The computer, the model airplane, the chair, and the back of your head are rendered with stunning detail and accuracy. You would be very proud of him.

    As you’ll recall our precious little girl turned three in September. She still remembers that you spent the whole day with her on her birthday. What quality time it was for her when you allowed her to watch you re-enact Amelia Earhart’s last flight! She was sorry that she crashed before your plane did, but she was *so* sleepy. Poor thing. When she asked how come Daddy’s TV only had a grey picture, I told her you were staring at fog. Was I right?

    I am also doing well. I went blonde about a year ago and was delighted to find out that blondes really do have more fun.

    Lars, I mean Mr. Swenson, the department head, has taken an interest in my career and has become a good friend to all of us.

    The house is in good shape. I had the living room painted last Spring. I’m not sure if you noticed it. I made sure the painters cut air holes in the dropcloths so you wouldn’t be disturbed. They were very apologetic about splattering your charts.

    I’ve discovered that the household chores are much easier since you allow me to vacuum around you instead of using the feather duster that makes you sneeze and also streaks your goggles.

    I will be at the ski lodge this weekend with Lars and the kids. But don’t worry, darling, we have separate bedrooms, and he is well aware that I am married. I will try to call you, but if the line is busy, then I’ll know that you are connected by modem with your flight instructor who is demonstrating advanced manoeuvres. (I still can’t believe he’s only thirteen! His parents must be as proud of him as I am of you.)

    The housekeeper has been instructed to keep your coffee cup filled and to give you a fresh straw every three hours. Just let her know when you’re getting hungry and she’ll give you some frozen pizza to suck on.

    Good luck circumnavigating the world via the poles! Should be a fun weekend! See you Sunday night!

    Fondly,

    Your wife

  • The Lawyer, the Farmer and the Duck

    A big city lawyer went duck hunting in South Louisiana. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing. The litigator responded, "I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I’m going into retrieve it."

    The old farmer replied. "This is my property, and you are not coming over here."

    The indignant lawyer said, "I am one of the best trial attorneys in the U.S. and, if you don’t let me get that duck, I’ll sue you and take everything you own."

    The old farmer smiled and said, "Apparently, you don’t know how we do things in Louisiana. We rule ourselves under the Napoleonic Code. We settle small disagreements like this with the Louisiana Three Kick Rule."

    The lawyer asked, "What is the Louisiana Three Kick Rule?" The Farmer replied. "Well, first I kick you three times and then you kick me three times, and so on, back and forth, until someone gives up."

    The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom. The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the city feller.

    His first kick planted the toe of his heavy work boot into the lawyer’s groin and dropped him to his knees where he immediately vomited.

    The geezer’s second kick nearly ripped the man’s nose off his face.

    The barrister was flat on his belly when the farmer’s third kick to a kidney nearly caused him to give up.

    The lawyer summoned every bit of his dark heart, vengeful will and managed to get to his feet and said, "Okay, you old coot now it’s my turn."

    The old farmer smiled and said, "Naw, I give up. You can have the duck."

  • The Contemplative Husband

    A woman awakens during the night to find her husband was not in bed. She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him. She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him. He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall.

    She watches as he wiped a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee. "What’s the matter, dear?", she whispers as she steps into the room. "Why are you down here at this time of the night?".

    The husband looks up from his coffee, "Do you remember 20 years ago when we were dating, and you were only 16?" he asks solemnly.

    "Yes, I do" she replies.

    The husband paused. The words were not coming easily. "Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car making love?".

    "Yes, I remember," said the wife, lowering herself into a chair beside him.

    The husband continued. "Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my face and said, "Either you marry my daughter, or I’ll send you to jail for 20 years?"

    "I remember that too" she replied softly. He wiped another tear from his cheek and said,

    "I would have gotten out today."

  • The Speeding Ticket

    A police officer pulls a guy over for speeding and has the following exchange:

    Officer: May I see your driver’s license?

    Driver: I don’t have one. I had it suspended when I got my 5th DUI.

    Officer: May I see the owner’s card for this vehicle?

    Driver: It’s not my car. I stole it.

    Officer: The car is stolen?

    Driver: That’s right. But come to think of it, I think I saw the owner’s card in the glove box when I was putting my gun in there.

    Officer: There’s a gun in the glove box?

    Driver: Yes sir. That’s where I put it after I shot and killed the woman who owns this car and stuffed her in the trunk.

    Officer: There’s a BODY in the TRUNK?!?!?

    Driver: Yes, sir.

    Hearing this, the officer immediately called his captain. The car was quickly surrounded by police, and the captain approached the driver to handle the tense situation:

    Captain: Sir, can I see your license?

    Driver: Sure. Here it is.

    It was valid.

    Captain: Who’s car is this?

    Driver: It’s mine, officer. Here’s the registration.

    Captain: Could you slowly open your glove box so I can see if there’s a gun in it?

    Driver: Yes, sir, but there’s no gun in it.

    Sure enough, there was nothing in the glove box.

    Captain: Would you mind opening your trunk? I was told you said there’s a body in it.

    Driver: No problem.

    Trunk is opened; no body.

    Captain: I don’t understand it. The officer who stopped you said you told him you didn’t

    have a license, stole the car, had a gun in the glovebox, and that there was a dead body in the trunk.

    Driver: Yeah, I’ll bet he told you I was speeding, too.

  • Dopey

    The Seven Dwarfs go to the Vatican, and because they are "the seven dwarfs," they get ushered in to see the Pope.

    Dopey leads the pack.

    "Dopey my son," says the Pope, "what can I do for you?"

    Dopey asks, "Excuse me, Your Excellency, but are there any dwarf nuns in Rome?"

    The Pope wrinkles his brow at the odd question, thinks for a moment and answers, "No Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in Rome."

    In the background a few of the dwarfs begin giggling. Dopey turns around and gives them a glare, silencing them.

    Dopey turns back to face the Pope. "Your Worship, are there any dwarf nuns in all of Europe?"

    The Pope, puzzled again, thinks for a moment and then answers, "No Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in all of Europe."

    This time all the other dwarfs burst into laughter. Once again, Dopey turns around and silences them all with an angry glare.

    Dopey turns back to the Pope and says, "Mr. Pope, are there ANY dwarf nuns in the whole world?"

    The Pope answers, "I’m sorry, my son, there are no dwarf nuns anywhere in the world."

    The other dwarfs collapse into a heap, rolling, and laughing, pounding on the floor, tears rolling down their cheeks as they begin chanting:

    "Dopey screwed a penguin!"

    "Dopey screwed a penguin!"