One day, a man complained to his friend, “My elbow really hurts, guess I should see a doctor.”

His friend said, “Don’t do that. There’s a computer at the drug store that can diagnose anything quicker and cheaper than a doctor. Simply put in a sample of your urine, and the computer will diagnose your problem and tell you what you can do about it. And it only costs $10.00.”

The guy figured he had nothing to lose, so he filled a jar with a urine sample and went to the drug store. Finding the computer, he poured in the sample and deposited the $10.00. The computer started making some noise andvarious lights started flashing. After a brief pause, out popped a small slip of paper which read:
You have tennis elbow.
Soak your arm in warm water, avoid heavy labor.
It will be better in two weeks.

That evening while thinking how amazing this new technology was and how it would change medical science forever, he began to wonder if this computer could be fooled.

He decided to give it a try. He mixed together some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, and urine samples from his wife and daughter. To top it off, he masturbated into the concoction. He went back to the drug store, located the computer, poured in thisample and deposited the $10.00. The machine again made the usual noises,flashedlights, and printed out the following analysis:
Your tap water is too hard. Get a water softener.
Your dog has ringworm. Bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo.
Your daughter is using cocaine. Put her in a rehabilitation clinic.
Your wife is pregnant….twin girls. They aren’t yours. Get a lawyer.

And…. if you don’t stop jerking off, your elbow will never get better!

Happily Addicted to the Web (Sung to the tune of “Winter Wonderland”)

Doorbell rings, I’m not list’nin’, From my mouth, drool is glist’nin’, I’m happy–although My boss let me go– Happily addicted to the Web.

All night long, I sit clicking, Unaware time is ticking, There’s beard on my cheek, Same clothes for a week, Happily addicted to the Web.

Friends come by; they shake me,Saying, “Yo, man! Don’t you know tonight’s the senior prom?” With a listless shrug, I mutter, “No, man; I just discovered letterman-dot-com!”

I don’t phone, don’t send faxes, Don’t go out, don’t pay taxes, Who cares if someday They drag me away? I’m happily addicted to the Web!

1. You have been on-line for 46 minutes. Do you want to stay on-line? Please respond within 10 minutes, or you will be logged off.

2. You have been on-line 135 minutes. Not to put any pressure on you,but there are OTHER people in the world who would like to sign on. Let’s show some consideration for our fellow members and sign off, WHADDYA SAY?

3. You DO realize that you have been on-line for 180 minutes, right? When was the last time you went outside?

4. OK, this is getting ridiculous. Frankly, you’re starting to upset us! If you sign off now, we’ll bring back your buddy list, OK?

5. You have been on-line for 360 minutes now! We promised you unlimited time, we know, but can’t you just finish up and go read a good book?!

6. You have been on-line for 467 minutes. Do you remember your family members names?

7. You have been on-line for 513 minutes. Your spouse has left and your dog is starving. Do you wish to remain on-line?

8. You have been on-line for 724 minutes. Steve Case is coming personally to your house to yank the phone cord!

9. You have been on-line for 852 minutes. Do you KNOW how many hours that is??

10. You have been on-line for 921 minutes. Do you realize that AOL averages 921 complaints per hour about busy phone lines? Do you realize that AOL receives
9.21 lawsuits per day, due to busy phone lines? PLEASE sign-off, to reduce these averages, or go to KEYWORD: Class Action to join a lawsuit.

11. You have been on-line for 967 minutes. When AOL went unlimited, they didn’t think you would take it LITERALLY! So get OFF, before we go broke!

12. You have been on-line for 1013 minutes. This is Steve Case, I need to sign-on myself and answer some mail. Could you PLEASE sign-off?

13. You have been on-line for 1105 minutes. Are you and your family chatting in shifts? GEEZE get off already!

14. You have been on-line 1151 minutes. WELCOME TO THE TEAM… See job application enclosed!

A language instructor was explaining to her class that French nouns, unlike their English counterparts, are grammatically designated as masculine or feminine. Things like ‘chalk’ or ‘pencil,’ she described, would have a gender association although in English, these words were of neutral gender.

Puzzled, one student raised his hand and asked, “What gender is a computer?”

The teacher wasn’t certain which it was, and so divided the class into two groups and asked them to decide if a computer should be masculine or feminine. One group was composed of the women in the class, and the other of men. Both groups were asked to give four reasons for their recommendation.

The group of women concluded that computers should be referred to in the masculine gender because:

1. In order to get their attention, you have to turn them on.
2. They have a lot of data but are still clueless.
3. They are supposed to help you solve your problems, but half the time they ARE the problem.
4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that, if you had waited a little longer, you could have had a better model.

The men, on the other hand, decided that computers should definitely be referred to in the feminine gender because:

1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic.
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else.
3. Even your smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory for later retrieval.
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.

Online computer users often engage in cyber sex. However, one of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript doesn’t seem to quite get the point of cyber sex. Then again, maybe he does…

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I’m toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-
36. What do you look like?

Wellhung: I’m 6’3″ and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart. I’m also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner…it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me? Wellhung: OK

Sweetheart: We’re in my bedroom. There’s soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table. I’m looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.

Wellhung: I’m gulping, I’m beginning to sweat. Sweetheart: I’m pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now I’m unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling. Sweetheart: I’m moaning softly.

Wellhung: I’m taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly. Sweetheart: I’m throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm skin. I’m rubbing you bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I’m sorry. Sweetheart: That’s OK, it wasn’t really too expensive.

Wellhung: I’ll pay for it. Sweetheart: Don’t worry about it. I’m wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

Wellhung: I’m fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it’s stuck. Do you have any scissors? Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. I’m reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breast. My nipples are erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that? I’m picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp. Sweetheart: I’m arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.

Wellhung: I’m dropping the bra. Now I’m licking your, you know, breasts. They’re neat! Sweetheart: I’m running my fingers through your hair. Now I’m nibbling your ear.

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breast are covered with spit and phlegm. Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I’m so sorry; Really. Sweetheart: I’m wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

Wellhung: I’m taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop. Sweetheart: OK. I’m pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

Wellhung: I’m screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee! Sweetheart: I’m pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

Wellhung: I’m pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you…umm… wait a minute. Sweetheart: What’s the matter?

Wellhung: I’ve got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I’m choking. Sweetheart: Are you OK?

Wellhung: I’m having a coughing fit. I’m turning all red. Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: I’m running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I’m fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups? Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: I’m drinking a cup of water. There, that’s better. Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: I’m washing the cup now. Sweetheart: I’m on the bed arching for you.

Wellhung: I’m drying the cup. Now I’m putting it back in the cabinet. And now I’m walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it’s dark, I’m lost. Where’s the bedroom?

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall. Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: I’m tuggin’ off your pants. I’m moaning. I want you so badly. Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts. Sweetheart Why don’t you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: OK, but I can’t see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table. Sweetheart: I’m bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee. I’m fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom. Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it’s dark. I’m feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid. Sweetheart: I’m waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: I’m done going. I’m feeling around for the flush handle, but I can’t find it. Uh-oh! Sweetheart: What’s the matter now?

Wellhung: I’ve realized that I’ve peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I’m walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way. Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

Wellhung: OK, now I’m going to put my…you know …thing…in your…you know…woman’s thing. Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: I’m touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I’m having a little trouble here. Sweetheart: I’m moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can’t stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

Wellhung: I’m flaccid. Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I’m limp. I can’t sustain an erection. Sweetheart: I’m standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

Wellhung: I’m shrugging with a sad look on my face, my wiener all floppy. I’m going to get my glasses and see what’s wrong. Sweetheart: No, never mind. I’m getting dressed. I’m putting on my underwear. Now I’m putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait! Now I’m squinting, trying to find the night table. I’m feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles. Sweetheart: I’m buttoning my blouse. Now I’m putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: I’ve found my glasses. I’m putting them on. My God! One of your candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I’m pointing at it, a shocked look on my face. Sweetheart: Go to hell. I’m logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo! Sweetheart:{logged off}