A dietician was once addressing a large audience in Chicago.”The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here, years ago. Red meat is awful. Vegetables can be disastrous, and none of us realises the germs in our drinking water. But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all and we all eat it. Can anyone here tell me what lethal product I’m referring to? You, sir, in the first row, please give us your idea.”The man lowered his head and said, “Wedding cake.”
Un se or con evidentes se ales de agotamiento f sico se presenta ante el m dico.
“Cada noche que llego a mi casa -explica el paciente- me echo el primero, m s o menos normal. Me echo el segundo y empiezo a sentir cansancio y decaimiento. Al tercero me duele el cerebro y se activan las palpitaciones del coraz n. Ya para el cuarto sudo abundantemente, los dolores de cabeza se vuelven intolerables, el coraz n quiere salirse del pecho. Para el quinto realmente no puedo, doctor, porque los ri ones…”
” P rele, amigo, p rele! Claro que eso tiene que suceder, es l gico, normal.”
“Pero doctor, es que vivo en el sexto y no hay elevador…”
A man is flying in a hot air balloon and realizes he is lost. He reduces height and spots a man down below. He lowers the balloon further and shouts: “Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?”
The man below says: “Yes, you’re in a hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above this field.”
“You must work in MIS” says the balloonist.
“I do” replies the man. “How did you know.”
“Well” says the balloonist, “everything you have told me is technically correct, but it’s no use to anyone.”
The man below says “you must work in business.”
“I do” replies the balloonist, “but how did you know?”
“Well”, says the man, “you don’t know where you are, or where you’re going, but you expect me to be able to help. You’re in the same position you were before we met, but now it’s my fault.”
Q: How many developers does it take to change a light bulb? A: The light bulb works fine in my office.
Hab a cierta vez un tipo llamado Bernardo Berm dez. En el d a de su aniversario de casados, su esposa (que ten a la costumbre de poner en cualquier obsequio que le daba las iniciales del marido) pensaba qu regalarle.
Se le ocurri entonces tatuarse una B en cada nalga, cosa que hizo inmediatamente. Al llegar el tipo del trabajo, ella le dice:
“D jame ense arte tu regalo.”
La mujer se desviste y se empina, para que el marido pueda verla en todo su esplendor.
Acto seguido su marido pregunta: ” Quien es BOB?”
Una se orita va a la iglesia a confesarse:
“Perd neme, padre, porque he pecado”.
“Bueno, hija, cu ntame tus pecados”, le responde el cura.
“El otro d a estaba caminando por la calle cuando me encontr con un viejo amigo. Fuimos a tomar un caf y empezamos a charlar, despu s fuimos a su departamento e hicimos el amor. Y como yo soy tan fr gil…”
“Fr gil, hija, se dice fr gil”, interpone el padre.
“Bueno, al d a siguiente estaba sentada en la plaza cuando de repente se aparece otro amigo. Empezamos a charlar y despu s terminamos en mi departamento e hicimos el amor. Y como yo soy tan fr gil…”
“Fr gil, hija, fr gil,” dice otra vez el cura.
“Y ayer estaba con mis amigas cuando se apareci mi novio. Empezamos a conversar, y despu s fuimos a su departamento y como yo soy tan… Ay! Cu l es esa palabra, padre?”
“Puta, hija, puta”.
Little Lucy was playing in the garden when she spotted two spiders mating.”Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?” “They’re mating, Lucy” he replied. “What do you call the spider on top, Daddy?” Lucy asked. “Oh, that’s a Daddy Longlegs.” Lucy asked, “Oh, so one’s a Daddy Longlegs and the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?” Daddy replied, “No, both of them are Daddy Longlegs.” Lucy thought for a moment, then took her foot and stamped them flat.”Well, we’re not having THAT sort of thing in our garden!”
One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in the tiny town of Johnstown
got up early and went to the local church. Before the service started, the
townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking about their lives, their
families, etc. Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church. Everyone
started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a
frantic effort to get away from the evil incarnate.
Soon everyone is evacuated from the church except for one elderly gentleman
who sat calmly in his pew, not moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that
God’s ultimate enemy is in his presence.
Now this confused Satan a bit, so he walked up to the man and said, “Hey!
Don’t you know who I am?”
The man replied, “Yep, sure do.”
Satan asked, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Nope, sure ain’t,” said the man.
Satan was a little perturbed at this and queried, “Why aren’t you afraid of
The man calmly replied, “I’ve been married to your sister for 25 years.”
I took some clients out to dinner last week, and I noticed a spoon in the shirt pocket of our waiter as he handed us the menus. It seemed a little odd, but I dismissed it as a random thing. Until our busboy came with water and tableware; he too, sported a spoon in his breast pocket. I looked around the room, and all the waiters and busboys had spoons in their pockets. When our waiter returned to take our order, I just had to ask, “Why the spoons?””Well,” he explained, “our parent company recently hired some Andersen Consulting efficiency experts to review all our procedures, and after months of statistical analyses, they concluded that our patrons drop spoons on the floor 73% more often than any other utensil, at a frequency of 3 spoons per hour per workstation. By preparing our workers for this contingency in advance, we can cut our trips to the kitchen down and save time… nearly 1.5 extra man-hours per shift.” Just as he concluded, a “ch-ching” came from the table behind him, and he quickly replaced the fallen spoon with the one from his pocket.”I’ll grab another spoon the next time I’m in the kitchen instead of making a special trip,” he proudly explained.I was impressed. “Thanks, I had to ask.””No problem,” he answered. Then he continued to take our orders. As the members of our dinner party took their turns, my eyes darted back and forth from each person ordering and my menu. That’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a thin black thread protruding from our waiter’s fly. Again, I dismissed it; yet I had to scan the room and, sure enough, there were other waiters and busboys with strings hanging out of their trousers. My curiosity overrode discretion at this point, so before he could leave I had to ask. “Excuse me, but…uh…why, or what about that string?””Oh, yeah,” he began, in a quieter tone, “not many people are that observant. That same efficiency group found we could save time in the Men’s Room, too.””How’s that?” I asked.”You see, by tying a string to the end of our, uh, selves, we can pull it out at the urinals literally hands-free and thereby eliminate the need to wash our hands, cutting time spent in the washroom by over 93%!””Hey, wait a minute. If the string helps you pull it out, how do you get it back in?””Well,” he whispered, “I don’t know about the other guys, but I use the spoon.”
The company president called the chief security guard into his office.
“Chuck, we’ve received a complaint from one of the employees that you are making obscene sexual comments and putting your hands where they don’t belong. These unwanted advances will have to stop.”
Chuck looked down at his feet and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t’ do it again.”
The company president said, “I’m sure Ms. Jones will be happy to hear that.” Chuck’s face lit up.
“Ms Jones?!!!! I was afraid that Bob in Accounting was complaining!!!!”