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The Lighter Side of Life (jokes, humor, etc.)


ChAiNz.2da

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This woman is disturbing... I actually feel sorry for the telemarketer... <link>

 

WARNING: STRONG PROFANITY

 

Whew, if you ever wanted to hear a paranoid schizophrenic in action, that's probably a good example. She seriously needs to see her psychiatrist ASAP.

 

I'm surprised he stayed on that long listening to her rant!

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@Revan and DM--loved the cat pics. Too funny. I thought the 'fewocious' one was hilarious and the cat emoticons had me in stitches.

@RJM--I'm pretty sure that being threatened is acceptable grounds for hanging up on someone. Unless, of course, he was crazy enough to keep hoping for a sale. :)

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I'm pretty sure he mentioned that his supervisor was with him at the time, and I've heard of some telemarketing companies that have policies which don't allow the employee to hang up until the "sale" does, so it's possible that he had to stay on the line.

 

Besides, if everyone in the office started staring at you would you wuss out and hang up?:lol:

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Didn't I?

 

Edit: Once upon a time, there lived a little girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She lived in a cottage in the forest, and her girlish life was full of fun and frolic. One day, she heard that her grandmother had taken to bed ill, and she decided to take her some sweeties and keep her company. She packed her yummiest cookies and sweets into her little wicker basket, donned her red cape from which her common name had arisen, and tucked a fully-loaded Glock 9mm pistol into the pocket. Thus attired, she set out down the forest path to Grandma's house.

 

On her way, the cheery little woodland creatures suddenly stopped their happy calls, and all bolted for cover. Little Red Riding Hood looked around nervously, unnerved by the silence. Just then, a huge black wolf leaped out from behind a tree, and glared at her menacingly. The sun glinted off his huge fangs, and a wild, predatory glee shone in his eyes.

 

"That's it, little girl! I'm going to tear you apart limb from limb! Hahahahahahaha!!"

 

Little Red Riding Hood, cool as a cucumber, whipped out the Glock 9mm and hiked up her skirt. "No you're not, you're going to eat me like the story says!"

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Once upon a time, a Canadian was out hunting ducks in the southwestern corner of British Columbia, right at the Canada/US border. It had been a slow morning, and he was about ready to head to the diner for lunch when suddenly he saw a flock of ripe, juicy mallards fly overhead. He readied his shotgun, and...

 

BAM

 

...he hit one of the flock. It spiraled down, down, down, when *plop* it landed in a private yard just on the other side of the border. The Canandian hunter walked over to Zero Avenue, looked up one way, then down the other. No one even remotely in sight for miles in either direction. He slipped over the border and looked for his duck, finally spotting it in someone's backyard. The yard was a huge affair, and he thought to himself, "Well, I'll just pop in and get the duck. No one will ever know. No harm, no foul."

 

He hopped over the fence and was just about to grab the duck, when a huge man opened the door of the house and stepped outside. The Canadian duck hunter had just encountered a giant American cowboy in Montana.

 

"You can't have that duck! It's on my land!" the cowboy shouted.

 

"Well, I don't care if it's on your land, I shot it, and it's mine!" replied the Canadian. "If I hadn't shot it, it wouldn't be here, so I'll just take it and be going!"

 

"HEY! What did I say?! It's on my land, so it's my duck!" came the heated reply.

 

This discussion went back and forth for some minutes when finally the Canadian lost his patience and said, "Okay. In my country, we have a way of settling this kind of dispute. But it's a real hardcore, MAN'S way of settling it. You game?"

 

The American looked skeptical. "What're you talkin' about...?"

 

"Well," said the Canadian, "It's a test of strength and stamina. This has been passed down from the Cree Nation from way before the White Man ever came here. We each kick each other in the balls, but you can't make any kind of sound or dodge the blow. You see, the stronger man will be able to handle the pain, and therefore more worthy of the spoils. Now, are you MAN enough for that?!"

 

The American mulled this over for a minute, and after sizing up the Canadian who was a full foot shorter and easily fifty pounds lighter, he agreed, sure of victory.

 

"Fine," said the Canadian. "Now, as I shot the game, I go first!" He backed up a few feet, and got a good running start. 1, 2, 3, 4...WHAM. The Canadian's steel-toed hiking boot sank viciously into the American's groin. He dropped instantly. Doubled over, he writhed in terrible pain, tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't make a single peep. Not one tiny, miniscule sound passed the cowboy's lips as he rolled over and over in agony. Several minutes later, he was able to stagger to his feet.

 

"Aw, damn that hurt. Okay, my turn now!"

 

"Naw, that's okay. I changed my mind. You can keep the duck."

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