This blonde was driving down an old country road when she spots a blonde in a wheat field rowing a boat. She pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car. Staring in disbelief she stands at the side of the road to watch the woman for a while. When she could not stand it any more she called out to the blonde in the field.

“Why are you rowing a boat in the middle of the field?”

The blonde in the field stops rowing and responds, “Because it is an ocean of wheat.”

The blonde standing on the side of the road is furious. She yells at the blonde in the field. “It is blondes like you that give the rest of us a bad name.”

The blonde in the field just shrugged her shoulders and began rowing again.

The blonde on the side of the road was beside herself and shook her fist at the blonde in the field then yelled, “if I could swim I would come out there and kick your ass.”

British Military Officer Fitness Reports

The British Military writes OFR’s (officer fitness reports). The form used for Royal Navy and Marines fitness reports is the S206. The following are actual excerpts taken from people’s “206′s”….

- His men would follow him anywhere, but only out of curiosity.

- I would not breed from this Officer.

- This Officer is really not so much of a has-been, but more of a definitely won’t-be.

- When she opens her mouth, it seems that this is only to change whichever foot was previously in there.

- He has carried out each and every one of his duties to his entire satisfaction. – He would be out of his depth in a car park puddle.

- Technically sound, but socially impossible.

- This Officer reminds me very much of a gyroscope – always spinning around at a frantic pace, but not really going anywhere.

- This young lady has delusions of adequacy.

- When he joined my ship, this Officer was something of a granny; since then he has aged considerably.

- This Medical Officer has used my ship to carry his genitals from port to port, and my officers to carry him from bar to bar.

- Since my last report he has reached rock bottom, and has started to dig.

- She sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them.

- He has the wisdom of youth, and the energy of old age.

- This Officer should go far – and the sooner he starts, the better.

- In my opinion this pilot should not be authorized to fly below 250 feet.

- The only ship I would recommend this man for is citizenship.

- Works well when under constant supervision and cornered like a rat in a trap

- This man is depriving a village somewhere of an idiot.

State officials ordered 400 words of “sexually explicit material” to be cut from Romeo and Juliet.

Carrizozo
It’s forbidden for a female to appear unshaven in public.

Las Cruces
You may not carry a lunchbox down Main Street.

Top Ten Signs Your Spouse May Be Having An On-Line Affair

10. Lately she sits at the computer naked.

9. After signing off, he always has a cigarette.

8. The giant rubber inflatable disk drive.

7. In the morning, the computer screen is all fogged up.

6. He’s gotten amazingly good at typing with one hand.

5. She makes sarcastic remarks about your “software”.

4. Lipstick on the mouse.

3. During sex, she screams “A colon backslash enter insert!”

2. The fax file is filled with pictures of someone’s butt.

1. The jam in the laser printer is a pair of underwear.

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor, Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets. Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer, I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond’ring, fearing, Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. “Save!” I said, “You cursed mother! Save my data from before!” One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion? These were choices undesired, ones I’d never faced before. Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises. The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more. Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, >From “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending, Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored, Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key. But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before. Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore, Saying “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard. I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore. Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations, Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before. Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before. Reading, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted. Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor. And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night. A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core. The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore. Not even, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go. What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored, Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes? But sure as there’s C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more, You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”