"No, Silly," the blonde said. "First I put the gun to my chest, and then I thought, I just paid $6, for these implants. I'm not shooting myself in the chest . Then I put the gun in my mouth, and I thought, I just paid $8, to get my teeth straightened. I'm not shooting myself in the mouth ."
TEMPERATURE OF HELL
[The following is supposedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so interesting that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now can enjoy it as well.]
7. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
Sounds like you just had a cross line r966. Happened regularly with landlines. He was probably an old guy who thought he have some fun and scare you.
Got in the car and called 966 from my cell phone. It rang for a minute. I hung up and called back. No answer. So we drove home.
A mother took her three-year-old daughter to church for the first time. The church lights were lowered, and then the choir came down the aisle, carrying lighted candles. All was quiet until the little one started singing in a loud voice, “Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you.”
Although I now understand that Baio being a producer on CiC must bear some of the culpability for that odious performace - and he probably wrote her unremittingly atrocious dialogue - I have successfully managed to avoid his "work" enough to prevent myself from having further trauma inflicted upon my psyche. And now that Ryan has FINALLY given up on collaborating with people who are ACTUALLY talented such as Jane Campion, I may finally heal completely.
Chatting with one he mentioned he was from my mom's hometown. But my mom's hometown is little more than a widening in the road in the hollers of eastern Kentucky, population: who knows. The odds.
A rabbi and a cantor are standing in the largely empty synagogue one day, talking mystically about how, given the awesome glory of God’s Infinite Divine Presence, they are each really “nothing.” “Yes,” says the rabbi, “I am nothing!” The cantor also affirms, looking up to the heavens, “O God, I am completely nothing !” And they go on like this for several rounds—”I am nothing… I am utterly nothing.”