Boat Jokes (we need a few laughs)

Colonoscopy Journal:
Dave Barry

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.

A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.
Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.

I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.

Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel movement may result.'

This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but, have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything.. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked..

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep..
At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode.. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point.

Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand.

There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent.. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

On the subject of Colonoscopies...

Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous.... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1.. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!'

2.. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'

3.. 'Can you hear me NOW?'

4.. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'

5.. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'

6.. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'

7.. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'

8.. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'

9.. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!'

10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'

11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'

12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'

And the best one of all:

13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'

www.miamiherald.com

 

After all those years at a surgery center, I took a job working for a company that does plumbing repairs among other services. A caller said his sewer line collapsed somewhere in his yard(garden) but didn't know where. He asked for the best way to find the exact location so he wouldn't have to dig up the whole property, so without thinking about it I said we might have an "endoscope" when I might have more properly said "bore scope".

 

That's the magic of Versed. It won't dull the pain, but at least you won't remember it afterwords!

 

very nice older gentleman ( 84 ) who apparently doesn't believe in red lights or speed limits in school zones totaled my car today and I just found out that my policy has an 18 day laps in it because I combined my truck policy with my car policy and there is a service fee of x dollars + the additional to bring the truck policy into sink with the car policy. Long story short I apparently owe them money in which case I'm not covered in either policy and yes they sent me a bill, no I hadn't payed it yet, pretty sure that means I'm screwed and will likely be getting a knock on the door from a nice officer with a ticket book.

if thats not a joke I don't know what is

PS
just found out that around here there's a jail sentence goes along with that ticket

 

Ouch, that sucks, Bos.

The other driver's insurance (if any) is still liable for your damages though, even if it turns out you didn't have coverage.

 

thats the rumor but still dealing with the no insurance ticket is going to be a nightmare
I talk to my insurance agent tomorrow but I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can do. not sure what minimum sentencing is on that one but I'm pretty shure its what I can expect

 

Some insurance compnaies have a grace period policy, and there is also the question of whether you made aware of the additional charge in an adequate manner. If the car would have been insured if the policy had not been changed then surely it is the truck that was uninsured as a result of the failure to pay the additional amount, not the car. Don't let them weasel out of it, there is also some obligation to advise you of your lapse of coverage.

 

they tell me that the policy was for both vehicles and was not active at the time of the accident and that both previous policies were canceled at the time I combined them into one new policy. The new policy was only good for the duration of amount paid previously on the car policy and since the truck policy was overdue and had been combined with the car policy then I ended up owing on the new policy, which they billed me for and I have the letter. Its my fault but its there convoluted mess. In the end I'm screwed. I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up in jail over this.

sucks big times

 

If Colorado is like California, you'll wind up paying a fine or doing time. And even if you have to do time, you can probably get weekends picking up trash along the highway...

I did that on a ticket about fifteen years ago, because I was seriously broke at the time. And I actually had a blast: I spent several weekends in the Badlands west of Beaumont CA off Highway 60, rappelling down slopes to tie onto dead refrigerators and stoves so the rest of the crew could haul them up.

Fun is where you find it, and it beat being a couch potato watching reruns.

 

this is Denver Troy
I'd be out with a bunch of drunks and gangers
same guys I roust from the club every weekend and chances are word would get around fast I was a bouncer
hell I'll probably be in with guys I filed on from the club
this is not going to be pretty
one good thing tho
I have a lot of cops and swat officers who I'm pretty tight with
maybe they can put in a good word for me and they can get me into minimum security
off the road gang

not sure but I'm really not happy about this
I think I'm going to end up staring at a judge and he's got minimum sentencing to think about

 

OK insurance agent friend of mine says no jail
they will want a huge fine and some community service but no jail at least according to him, that and they owe me for the car, also given that the issue developed over billing rather than an effort to avoid insurance then I should be ok in so far as its not criminal.

sorry peeps I'm feeling kinda frazzled
gotta vent

cheers
B

 

The Irish have solved their own fuel problems. They imported 50 million tonnes of sand from the Arabs and they're going to drill for their own oil.

My mate's missus left him last Thursday, she said she was going out for a pint of milk &
never come back! I asked him how he was coping and he said, “Not bad, I've been using
that powdered stuff."

The police came to my front door last night holding a picture of my wife.
They said, "Is this your wife, sir?"
Shocked, I answered, " Yes."
They said, "I'm afraid it looks like she's been hit by a bus."
I said, "I know, but she has a lovely personality."

Two Irishmen find a mirror in the road.
The first one picks it up & says, "Blow me I know this face but I can’t put a name to it."
The second picks it up & says, "You daft ******* it's me!"

Paddy's in jail. The Guard looks in his cell and see's him hanging by his feet.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Hanging myself," Paddy replies.
"It should be round your neck," says the guard.
"I tried that," says Paddy, "but I couldn't breathe."

Two Irishmen are hammering floorboards down in a house.
Paddy picks up a nail, realises it's upside down & throws it away.
He carries on doing this until Murphy says, "Why are you throwing them away?"
"Because they're upside down," says Paddy.
"You daft prat," replies Murphy, "save 'em for the ceiling!!"

 

Not boat jokes per-se, but will be appreciated by all (stolen/borrowed from http://www.caseyresearch.com/cdd )
"Will's Witty Words of Wisdom

Will Rogers, who died in a 1935 plane crash, was one of the greatest wits this country has ever produced. Here are just a few of his many witticisms:

- There are two theories to arguing with a woman. Neither works.
- Never miss a good chance to shut up.
- Always drink upstream from the herd.
- If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
- The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back into your pocket.
- There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading; the few who learn by observation; the rest of them who have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.
- Good judgement comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgement.
- If you're riding ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it's still there.
- Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back.
- After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral: When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.

Will on growing older:
* Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.
* The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.
* Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me; I want people to know 'why' I look this way. I've traveled a long way, and some of the roads weren't paved.
* When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of algebra.
* You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.
* I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top.
* One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it's such a nice change from being young.
* One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been.
* Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.
* Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today it's called golf.
* If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you're old."

 

Police Complaint - just brilliant!

This is a genuine complaint to Devon & Cornwall Police Force from an angry member of the public . A true email sent to the force, lengthy but brilliantly written .....
---------------------------------------------------~.-----------------
Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service, Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Bodmin police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead.

Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Bodmin, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.

As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in St Mary's Crescent, which is just off St Mary's Road in Bodmin.

Six of them seem happy enough to playa game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building. This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.

The remaining five failed-abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy pills.

I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches.

Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.

What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.
I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.

I remain your obedient servant ???????
---------------------------------------------------~.-----------------
I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.

As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.

Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address I telephone number) and when may be suitable.

Regards

PC ??????? Community Beat Officer
---------------------------------------------------~.-----------------
Dear PC ???????
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail.
16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Bodmin Police Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next Guinness book of records.

Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community Beat Officer.

May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the five or so years I have lived in St Mary's Crescent, I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's
surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by MI5 to look for Osama.

Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Bodmin, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere.

The pitch on Fairpark Road, or the one at Priory Park are both within spitting distance as is the bottom of the Par Dock, the latter being the preferred option especially if the tide is in.

Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on <???????>. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Cat and Fiddle Pub.

Regards ?????????

P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the sewerage department with whom I am also in contact!!!

 

Complaint letter to the head of Virgin Airlines. Here's a link to the article itself, with the photo's mentioned in the letter:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/t...e-worlds-best-passenger-complaint-letter.html

Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at the hands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it: [see image 1, above].

I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the dessert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a dessert with peas in: [see image 2, above].

I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the dessert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started dessert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this: [see image 3, above].

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation: [see image 4, above].

It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on: [see image 5, above].

I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel: [see image 6, above].

Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations: [see image 7, above].

Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincererly

XXXX