<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546</id><updated>2011-09-30T20:25:21.908+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Things Vs Thinks</title><subtitle type='html'>The things happening around me and the things I think!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>88</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-955383236506108902</id><published>2011-06-20T17:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-20T17:27:58.216+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Girls' Date</title><content type='html'>There once was a farmer who was raising 3 daughters on his own. He was very concerned about their well being and always did his best to watch out for them. As they entered their late teens the girls dated, and on this particular evening all three of his girls were going out on a date. This was the first time this had occurred. As was his custom, he would greet the young suitor at the door holding his shotgun, not to menace or threaten but merely to ensure that the young man knew who was boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doorbell rang and the first of the boys arrived. Father answered the door and the lad said, "Hi, my name's Joe, I'm here for Flo. We're going to the show, is she ready to go?" The father looked him over and sent the kids on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next lad arrived and said, "My name's Eddie, I'm here for Betty, we're gonna get ome spaghetti, is she ready?" Father felt this one was okay too, so off the two kids went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final young man arrived and the farmer opened the door. The boy started off, "Hi, my name's Chuck..." and the farmer shot him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-955383236506108902?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/955383236506108902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/955383236506108902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2011/06/girls-date.html' title='The Girls&apos; Date'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6250417918359382929</id><published>2010-07-09T12:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-09T12:56:05.357+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Governance System</title><content type='html'>As a daily habit Pintu was reading the newspaper. Suddenly he asked his father, "Dad! What does it mean by the 'Governance System'?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father said while thinking, "See! I earn and bring money to home, it mean's I am a 'Money Holder'. Your mother decides where and how to spend that money and that means she is 'Government'. That maid in our home is doing all the household works, so she is the 'Labour Class'. You are a 'Common man' or 'Public'. Your kid brother is 'Future' or the 'Next Generation'! Do u understand?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day Pintu slept with all those thoughts. In the middle of the night he woke-up because his kid brother started crying. He wetted the bed so he was crying. Pintu went to wake-up his mother. She was in deep sleep so Pintu goes to the Maiden's room to wake her up. But there his father was sleeping with the maid. So he c omes back frustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next morning father ask s Pintu, "Pintu! Is your understanding of the 'Governance System' clear?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pintu replied, "Yeah Dad, I understood! When Money Holder is exploiting Labour Class, our Government is sleeping. Future of our nation is crying for not getting their basic needs fulfilled and in all this Common Man is suffering!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6250417918359382929?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6250417918359382929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6250417918359382929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/07/governance-system.html' title='Governance System'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1527656314471690686</id><published>2010-06-01T15:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-01T15:04:36.064+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Obedient Wife</title><content type='html'>There was a man who had worked all his life, had saved all of his money, and was a real "miser" when it came to his money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before he died, he said to his wife, "When I die, I want you to take all my money and put it in the casket with me. I want to take my money to the afterlife with me!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so he got his wife to promise him, with all of her heart, that when he died, she would put all of the money into the casket with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, he died. He was stretched out in the casket, his wife was sitting there - dressed in black, and her friend was sitting next to her. When they finished the ceremony, and just before the undertakers got ready to close the casket, the wife said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wait just a moment!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a small metal box with her; she came over with the box and put it in the casket. Then the undertakers locked the casket down and they rolled it away. So her friend said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Girl, I know you were not fool enough to put all that money in there with your husband!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The loyal wife replied, "Listen, I cannot go back on my word. I promised him that I was going to put that money into the casket with him!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You mean to tell me you put that money in the casket with him!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I sure did," said the wife. "I got it all together, put it into my account, and wrote him a cheque, If he can cash it, then he can spend it!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1527656314471690686?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1527656314471690686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1527656314471690686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/06/obedient-wife.html' title='The Obedient Wife'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8641395862460274327</id><published>2010-05-26T18:32:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-01T15:41:51.614+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The atheist</title><content type='html'>An atheist was spending a quiet day fishing when suddenly his boat was attacked by the Loch Ness monster. In one easy flip, the beast tossed him and his boat at least a hundred feet into the air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monster then opened its mouth while waiting below to swallow man and boat.  As the man sailed head over heels and started to fall towards the open jaws of the ferocious beast he cried out, "Oh, my God! Help me!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the scene froze in place. As the atheist hung in midair, a booming voice came out of the clouds and said, "I thought you didn't believe in Me!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God, come on, give me a break!" the man pleaded, "Just seconds ago I didn't believe in the Loch Ness monster either!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", said God, "now that you are a believer you must understand that I won't work miracles to snatch you from certain death in the jaws of the monster, but I can change hearts. What would you have me do?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The atheist thinks for a minute and then says, "God, please have the Loch Ness Monster believe in You also!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God replies, "So be it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene starts in motion again with the atheist falling towards the ravenous jaws of the ferocious beast.  Then the Loch Ness Monster folds his claws together and says, "Lord, bless this food You have so graciously provided!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8641395862460274327?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8641395862460274327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8641395862460274327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/05/atheist.html' title='The atheist'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5656107161035932885</id><published>2010-05-26T11:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-26T11:36:51.235+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Beggar</title><content type='html'>Once a man was waiting for a taxi. A beggar came along and asked him for some money. The man ignored him. But being a professional, the beggar kept on pestering him. The man became irritated when he realized that the beggar would not leave him alone unless he parts with some money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly an idea struck him.He told the beggar, "I do not have money, but if you tell me what you want to do with the money, I will certainly help you!" .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would have bought a cup of  tea", replied the beggar. The man said, "Sorry man! I can offer you a cigarette instead of tea!". &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He then took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to the beggar. The beggar told, "I don't smoke as it is injurious to health!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man smiled and took a bottle of whiskey from his pocket and told the beggar, "Here, take this bottle and enjoy the stuff. It is really good!". The beggar refused by saying, "Alcohol muddles the brain and damages the liver!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man smiled again. He told the beggar, "I am going to the race course. Come with me and I will arrange for some tickets and we will place bets. If we win, you take the whole amount and leave me alone!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As before, the beggar politely refused the latest offer by saying, "Sorry sir, I can't come with you as betting on horses is a bad habit!". &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the man felt relieved and asked the beggar to come to his home with him. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Finally, the beggar's face lit up in anticipation of receiving at least something from the man. But he still had his doubts and asked the man, "Why do you want me to go to your house with you?". &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "My wife always wanted to see how a man with no bad habits looks like!".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5656107161035932885?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5656107161035932885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5656107161035932885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/05/beggar.html' title='The Beggar'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6596556656384764895</id><published>2010-04-30T17:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-30T17:49:59.056+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Driving License - Amazing Resemblance!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S9rKCKWOj8I/AAAAAAAACrc/i-tSwMAJdpg/s1600/Driving+License.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6596556656384764895?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6596556656384764895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6596556656384764895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/04/driving-license-amazing-resemblance.html' title='Driving License - Amazing Resemblance!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S9rKCKWOj8I/AAAAAAAACrc/i-tSwMAJdpg/s72-c/Driving+License.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6796753000988052323</id><published>2010-03-11T11:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-11T11:02:56.288+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Social Decorum</title><content type='html'>A crusty old man walks into a bank and says to the teller, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I want to open a fuckin' checking account!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The astonished woman replies, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I beg your pardon, sir. I must have misunderstood you. What did you say?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen up, damn it. "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I said I want to open a fuckin' checking account now!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I'm very sorry sir, but that kind of language is not tolerated in this bank&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teller leaves the window and goes over to the bank manager to inform him of her situation. The manager agrees that the teller does not have to listen to that foul language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both return to the window and the manager asks the old geezer, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sir, what seems to be the problem here?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is no fuckin problem", the man says. "I just won $200 million bucks in the damn lottery and I want to put my fuckin money in this damn bank!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh... I see!&lt;/span&gt;" says the manager, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;And is this bitch giving you a hard time sir?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6796753000988052323?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6796753000988052323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6796753000988052323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/03/social-decorum.html' title='Social Decorum'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-463437883923096685</id><published>2010-03-03T11:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-25T10:41:51.356+05:30</updated><title type='text'>ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!</title><content type='html'>இப்போது நான் சொல்லப் போகிற விஷயம் சில பேருக்கு பிடிக்காமலோ அபத்தமாகவோ இருக்கலாம்! ஆனால், இதுவே நிதர்சனமான உண்மை. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;கடந்த வாரம் எனது நண்பனின் நண்பனின் நண்பனுடைய திருமணத்திற்கு சென்றிருந்தேன்! அதாவது, நான் முன்பின் பார்த்திராத, பெயர்கூட தெரியாத ஒருவரின் திருமணம் அது!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;வழக்கம்போல், நான், ஏன் அநேகமாக எல்லா ஆண்களும் அத்தகைய ஒரு சூழ்நிலையில் செய்கிற காரியத்தையே நானும் அன்று செய்து கொண்டிருந்தேன்! வேறொன்றும் இல்லை, Figure வெட்டிக்கொண்டு, அல்லது Sight அடித்துக்கொண்டு இருந்தேன்!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;மனம் நிறைந்த figure ஒன்றும் தேறாத நிலையில், என்னை அழைத்து வந்த நண்பன்னை கடிந்துகொண்டேன்! அவனுக்கும் இது புதிதல்ல!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;மணமகன் மேடைக்கு அழைத்துவரப்பட்டான், போகிற வழியில் எனது நண்பனை கண்டுக்கொண்ட அவன் கைக்குலுக்கி விட்டு, என் கையையும் குலுக்கிச் சென்றான்! (இதுக்கு ஒன்னும் கொறச்சல் இல்ல என்று அலுத்துக்கொண்டேன்!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;புரோகிதர், அவர் வேலையை செவ்வனே செய்ய, நான் எனது நண்பனை திருமண விருந்தை பற்றி வினவ, சுத்த சைவ விருந்து என்று வெந்த புண்ணில் வேலை பாய்ச்சினான்!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;அரங்கில் திடிரென சலசலப்பு! வேறொன்றுமில்லை மணமகள் அழைத்துவரபட்டாள்! என் மனம் அத்தருணத்தில் அன்றிரவு அடிக்கபோகும் சரக்கு நிமித்தம் லயித்திருந்தது!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;என் நண்பன் என்னை சீண்டினான்! நிமிர்ந்து பார்த்தேன் மணப்பெண்ணை...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;அடடா அடடா பெண்ணே&lt;br /&gt;உன் அழகில் &lt;br /&gt;நான் கண்ணை சிமிட்டவும் மறந்தேன்&lt;br /&gt;ஆனால் கண்டேன்&lt;br /&gt;ஓராயிரம் கனவு&lt;br /&gt;ஹே கரையும் &lt;br /&gt;என் ஆயிரம் இரவு&lt;br /&gt;நீதான் வந்தாய் சென்றாய்&lt;br /&gt;என் விழிகள் இரண்டை திருடிக்கொண்டாய்&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ஓ... ஓ... ஓ... &lt;br /&gt;ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!&lt;br /&gt;ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!&lt;br /&gt;ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!&lt;br /&gt;ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!&lt;br /&gt;உன்னை மறந்திட முடியாதே!&lt;br /&gt;ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!&lt;br /&gt;உயிர் தருவது சரிதானே...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;நம்புனா நம்புங்க! சத்தியமா இந்த பாட்டுத்தான் backgroundல ஓடியது!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;முகம் தெரியாத நண்பனே! இன்றும் உன் முகம் எனக்கு நினைவில்லை! ஆனால் அவள் முகம் என்றும் மறக்காது!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;முகம் தெரியாத நண்பனே! கொடுத்துவைத்தவன் நீ! பத்திரமாக பார்த்துக்கொள் அவளை...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-463437883923096685?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/463437883923096685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/463437883923096685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2004/03/blog-post.html' title='ஓ... மனப்பெண்ணே...!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7821797560031898627</id><published>2010-02-18T11:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-18T11:15:42.634+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Hot Air Baloon</title><content type='html'>A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She reduced altitude and spotted a man below.She descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me sir, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man below replied, "You're in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You must be an engineer," said the lady balloonist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am", replied the man. 'How did you know?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", answered the balloonist, "Everything you told me is technically correct, but I've no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me at all. If anything you've delayed my trip even more!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man below responded, "You must be in Top Management position." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am", replied the lady balloonist, "But, how did you know?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", said the man, "You don't know where you are, or where you're going. You have risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air within. You made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you, to solve your problems!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7821797560031898627?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7821797560031898627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7821797560031898627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/02/hot-air-baloon.html' title='Hot Air Baloon'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1643176050858795898</id><published>2010-01-26T16:55:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-26T16:57:43.894+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Husband Store</title><content type='html'>A store that sells husbands has just opened in New York City, where any woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates. You may visit the store "ONLY ONCE"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the Building! So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first floor the sign on the door reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 1:&lt;/span&gt; These men have jobs and love the Lord. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second floor sign reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 2:&lt;/span&gt; These men have jobs, love the Lord, and love kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third floor sign reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 3:&lt;/span&gt; These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, and are extremely good looking.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Wow&lt;/span&gt;", she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 4:&lt;/span&gt; These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop-dead good looking and help with the housework. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, mercy me!&lt;/span&gt;" she exclaims, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I can hardly stand it!&lt;/span&gt;" Still, she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 5:&lt;/span&gt; These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop-dead gorgeous, help with the  housework, and have a strong romantic streak. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Floor 6:&lt;/span&gt; You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store. Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1643176050858795898?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1643176050858795898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1643176050858795898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/01/husband-store.html' title='The Husband Store'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8441225971022439196</id><published>2010-01-13T12:29:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-13T12:30:31.465+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Not all blondes are Stupid!</title><content type='html'>An attractive blonde from Dublin arrived at the casino and bet twenty-thousand dollars on a single roll of the dice.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She said, 'I hope you don't mind, but I feel much luckier when I'm 'completely nude'.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;With that, she stripped from the neck down, rolled the dice and yelled, 'Come on, baby, Mama needs new clothes!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dice came to a stop, she jumped up and down and squealed, 'Yes, Yes, I won, I won!'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She hugged each of the dealers and then picked up her winnings and her clothes and quickly departed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, one of them asked, 'What did she roll?'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The other answered, 'I don't know - I thought you were watching.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORAL OF THE STORY:&lt;br /&gt;Not all Irish are stupid. Not all blondes are dumb, But all men are men.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8441225971022439196?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8441225971022439196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8441225971022439196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-all-blondes-are-stupid.html' title='Not all blondes are Stupid!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4668228646613224622</id><published>2010-01-12T12:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-12T12:15:54.458+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Smart Contractor</title><content type='html'>Three contractors are bidding to fix a broken fence at the White House in D.C. One from Bangladesh , another from India and the third, from China . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They go with a White House office to examine the fence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bangladesh contractor takes out a tape measure and does some measuring, then works some figures with a pencil. "Well", he says, "I figure the job will run about $900. ($400 for materials, $400 for my team and $100 profit for me)". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chinese contractor also does some measuring and figuring, then says, "I can do this job for $700. ($300 for materials, $300 for my team and $100 profit for me)".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian contractor doesn't measure or figure, but leans over to the White House official and whispers, "$2,700." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The official, incredulous, says, "You didn't even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian contractor whispers back, "$1000 for me, $1000 for you, and we hire the guy from China to fix the fence." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Done!" replies the government official.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4668228646613224622?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4668228646613224622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4668228646613224622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/01/smart-contractor.html' title='The Smart Contractor'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2750891574957558000</id><published>2010-01-09T14:24:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-09T14:27:07.018+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lawyers Vs Engineers</title><content type='html'>Three lawyers and three engineers are traveling by train to a conference. At the station, the three lawyers each buy tickets and watch as the three engineers buy only a single ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How are three people going to travel on only one ticket?" asks a lawyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Watch and you'll see", answers an engineer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all board the train. The lawyers take their respective seats but all three engineers cram into a restroom and close the door behind them. Shortly after the train has departed, the conductor comes around collecting tickets. He knocks on the restroom door and says, "Ticket, please." The door opens just a crack and a single arm emerges with a ticket in hand. The conductor takes it and moves on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyers see this and agree that it is quite a clever idea so, after the conference, they decide to copy the engineers on the return trip and save some money (recognizing the engineers' superior intellect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they get to the station, they buy a single ticket for the return trip. To their astonishment, the engineers don't buy a ticket at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How are you going to travel without a ticket?" says one perplexed lawyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Watch and you'll see", answers an engineer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they board the train the three lawyers cram into a restroom and the three engineers cram into another one nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The train departs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly afterward, one of the engineers leaves his restroom and walks over to the restroom where the lawyers are hiding. He knocks on the door and says, "Ticket, please."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2750891574957558000?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2750891574957558000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2750891574957558000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/01/lawyers-vs-engineers.html' title='Lawyers Vs Engineers'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7575816180335689643</id><published>2010-01-07T20:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-07T20:39:04.449+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Secret Of Happy Married Life</title><content type='html'>Once I was asked by my Friend, "What is the secret behind your happy married life?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "You should share responsibilities with due love and respect each other. Then absolutely there will be no problems."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked, "Can you explain?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "In my house, I take decisions on bigger issues where as my wife decides on smaller issues. We do not interfere in each other's decisions."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still not convinced, Friend asked me "Give me some examples"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said,"Smaller issues like, which car we should buy, how much amount to save, when to visit home town, which Sofa, air conditioner, refrigerator , monthly expenses, whether to keep a maid or not etc are decided by my wife. I just agree to it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked, "Then what is your role?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said," My decisions are only for very big issues. Like whether America should attack Iran, whether Britain should lift sanction over Zimbabwe, whether to widen African economy, whether Sachin Tendulkar should retire, etc etc and Do you know one thing,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife NEVER, EVER objects to any of these!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7575816180335689643?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7575816180335689643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7575816180335689643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2010/01/secret-of-happy-married-life.html' title='Secret Of Happy Married Life'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5491215063671408116</id><published>2009-12-09T12:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-09T12:23:36.680+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Unusual Funeral</title><content type='html'>A man was leaving a cafe with his morning coffee when he noticed a most unusual funeral procession. A funeral coffin was followed by a second one about 50 feet behind the first. Behind the second coffin was a solitary man walking with a black dog. Behind him was a queue of 200  men walking in single line. The man couldn't stand his curiosity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He approached the man walking with the dog, "I am so sorry for your loss, and I know now is a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen a funeral like this with so many of you walking in single line. Whose funeral is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "Well, that first coffin is for my wife. "What happened to her?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "My dog attacked and killed her!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He inquired further, "Well, who is in the second coffin?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man answered, "My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my wife when the dog attacked and killed her also!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A thoughtful moment of silence passes between the two men. Then the first one asks in excitement "Can I borrow the dog? " &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man replied "Okay! Join the queue!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5491215063671408116?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5491215063671408116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5491215063671408116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/12/unusual-funeral.html' title='The Unusual Funeral'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1629201838244983022</id><published>2009-11-12T19:20:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-12T19:21:22.608+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why Parents Go Crazy</title><content type='html'>A boss wondered why one of his most valued employees had not phoned in sick one day. Having an urgent problem with one of the main computers, he dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whisper. "Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Is your daddy home?"he asked. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Yes", whispered the small voice. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with him?"&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;The child whispered, "No!"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked,"Is your Mommy there?"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Yes"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with her?" Again the small voice whispered, "No"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else there?"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"Yes", whispered the child, "A policeman". &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;"No, he's busy", whispered the child. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;"Busy doing what?"&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman", came the whispered answer. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise in the background through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"A helicopter" answered the whispering voice. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Again, whispering, the child answered, "The search team just landed a helicopter!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked,"What are they searching for?"&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle...&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"ME"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1629201838244983022?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1629201838244983022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1629201838244983022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-parents-go-crazy.html' title='Why Parents Go Crazy'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4796944388463652245</id><published>2009-10-13T11:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-13T11:55:07.887+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Jungle Story</title><content type='html'>A little rabbit happily running through the forest stumbles upon a giraffe rolling a marijuana cigarette. The rabbit looks at her and says, "Giraffe my friend, why do you do this? Think about your health. Come with me running through the forest, you'll see, you'll feel so much better!" The giraffe looks at him, looks at the joint, tosses it and goes off running with the rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they come across an elephant doing opium, so the rabbit again says, "Elephant my friend, why do you do this? Think about your health. Come running with us through the pretty forest, you'll see, you'll feel so good!" The elephant looks at them, looks at his razor, mirror and all, and then tosses them and starts running with the rabbit and giraffe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three animals then come across a lion about to take a heroin shot... The rabbit says "Lion my friend, why do you do this? Think about your health! Come running with us through the sunny forest, you will feel so good!" The lion looks at him, puts down his needle, and starts to beat the hell out of the little rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the giraffe and elephant watch in horror, they look at him and ask, "Lion, why did you do this? He was merely trying to help us all!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lion answers "That little devil makes me run around the forest like an idiot for hours every time he's high on cocaine!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4796944388463652245?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4796944388463652245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4796944388463652245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/10/jungle-story.html' title='A Jungle Story'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2765601800677669399</id><published>2009-09-16T09:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-16T09:24:39.330+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Laws Of Ultimate Reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;U&gt;Law of Mechanical Repair:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch and you'll have to pee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Gravity:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Probability:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Random Numbers:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal and someone always answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of the Alibi:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Variation Law:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you change traffic lanes, the one you were in will always move faster than the one you are in now (works every time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of the Bath:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Close Encounters:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The probability of meeting someone you know increases dramatically when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of the Result:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Biomechanics:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of the Theatre:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle arrive last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;The Starbucks Law:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Murphy's Law of Lockers:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Physical Surfaces:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chances of an open-faced jam sandwich landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet/rug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Brown's Law of Physical Appearance:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the shoe fits, it's ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Wilson 's Law of Commercial Marketing Strategy:&lt;/U&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Doctors' Law:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't feel well, make an appointment to go to the doctor, by the time you get there you'll feel better. Don't make an appointment and you'll stay sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;U&gt;Law of Logical Argument:&lt;/U&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2765601800677669399?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2765601800677669399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2765601800677669399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/09/laws-of-ultimate-reality.html' title='The Laws Of Ultimate Reality'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8891134007052585436</id><published>2009-09-14T15:11:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:59:11.265+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cafe Wisdom Lounge</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, I dint want to keep it a boring day. So I called up my friend if we could break-out somewhere. Actually, I had a plan to drop-in to some pub where we can enjoy the streaming heavy rock music and fill-up ourselves with pitchers and chickens! As this idea didn't sync with my friend, she suggested a coffee shop. I never been to any coffee-shop, as I hate to sit and chit-chatting just with a coffee! (FYI: Am a gastronome!) But just for a company-sake I agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to her place, picked her up and started to the so called coffee-shop where she had never been even. Its in 4th block of Koramangala, Bangalore a sign-board reads "Cafe Wisdom Lounge". As we entered the porch, we thought its someone's home and we may need to go upstairs. And there appeared a man (Jaspal) invited us in. The atmosphere is completely weird to be a coffee-shop. But it was quite interesting. Initially I could not believe seeing people serving food with smiling face. Jaspal is running this Wisdom Cafe Lounge and here you will get all kinds of feasts. Then, we felt like we're having a dinner at our friend's home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were given a menu which had varieties of tea and coffee. And a list of tasty Indian-spicy food like Samosas, Pakoras, Rotis and few more. I preferred a Herbal tea and my friend liked to have a Ginger tea with pakoras. And we started discussing a serious matter [;-P] rather than chatting. I would say the taste of the tea we've offered was really really good and the hot-n-spicy pakoras gave it a nice company! Jaspal too joined us for a while, when we asked him about this idea. I was really amazed when he said that he's been running this for the past "19" months! He showed us the mini art gallery he have at home. Most of'em are his wife's work. And few artifacts by the tribal people from north Karnataka and Kanyakumari. He took us to his personal room, and I found so many interesting things can be dug from him. He's working on a book which he's almost done on Gazals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would highly recommend this place to have a nice peaceful time forgetting all your worries, rants, laments, tensions. Just feel like your friends' place. Its at 4th block, Koramangala. From Sony World signal towards HSR Layout, its behind a Levi's Showroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Chris-T&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8891134007052585436?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8891134007052585436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8891134007052585436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/09/cafe-wisdom-lounge_14.html' title='Cafe Wisdom Lounge'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4980365893343421680</id><published>2009-08-24T13:14:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-24T13:14:41.303+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Barroom Bet</title><content type='html'>A blonde was sitting down in a bar one day next to a red-head. Both of them were sitting there having a good time and then the news turned on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman reporter shouted out "This just in! A man is at the edge of a cliff attempting to jump!". Then the red-head leans over to the blonde and whispers, "I bet you $50 that the man's gonna jump!" The blonde responds back "That's a bet you have there!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, both of the woman stared at the news waiting to know whats gonna happen. Then, the man jumps! The blonde turns around to the red-head and hands her the $50. The red-head feeling guilty said "I can't take that there money. I saw the news earlier this mornin', I knew he was gonna jump off that there cliff!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the blonde says "Well, I did too! But I never would have thought that the man would do it again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4980365893343421680?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4980365893343421680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4980365893343421680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/barroom-bet.html' title='Barroom Bet'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8048016174065593114</id><published>2009-08-24T13:12:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-24T13:12:34.994+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dream Job</title><content type='html'>Reaching the end of a job interview, the Human Resources Person asked the young programmer, "And what starting salary were you looking for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer said, "In the neighborhood of $75,000 a year, depending on the benefit's package."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The HR Person said, "Well, what would you say to a package of 5-weeks vacation, 14 paid holidays, full medical and dental, company matching retirement fund to 50% of salary, and a company car leased every 2 years - say, a red Corvette?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer sat up straight and said, "Wow!!! Are you kidding?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the HR Person said, "Certainly! But you started it!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8048016174065593114?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8048016174065593114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8048016174065593114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/dream-job.html' title='Dream Job'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2529047112788138236</id><published>2009-08-24T13:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-24T13:10:49.585+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Bad Day</title><content type='html'>A police officer in a small town stopped a motorist who was speeding down Main Street. "But officer," the man began, "I can explain."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just be quiet," snapped the officer. "I'm going to let you cool your heels in jail until the chief gets back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But, officer, I just wanted to say,..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And I said to keep quiet! You're going to jail!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later the officer looked in on his prisoner and said, "Lucky for you that the chief's at his daughter's wedding. He'll be in a good mood when he gets back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't count on it," answered the fellow in the cell. "I'm the groom."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2529047112788138236?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2529047112788138236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2529047112788138236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/bad-day.html' title='A Bad Day'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3528145116475537798</id><published>2009-08-11T17:52:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-11T17:52:23.409+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Perfect Birthday</title><content type='html'>Two weeks ago was my 35th birthday and I wasn't feeling too hot that morning anyway. I went to breakfast knowing my wife would be pleasant and say "Happy Birthday" and probably a present for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget "Happy Birthday", She didn't even say "Good Morning".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, "Well, that's wives for you, the children will remember." Children came in to breakfast and didn't say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to the office I was feeling pretty low. As I walked into my office my secretary, Janet, said, "Good morning, boss. Happy Birthday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I felt a little better; someone had remembered. I worked until noon. Then, Janet knocked on my door and said, "You know, it's such a beautiful day outside and it's your birthday, let's go to lunch, just you and me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "That's the greatest thing I've heard all day. Let's go." We went to lunch. We didn't go where we normally go; we went out to the country to a little private place. We had two martinis and enjoyed lunch tremendously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back to the office, she said, "You know, it's such a beautiful day. We don't need to go back to the office, do we?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "No, I guess not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Let's go to my apartment." After arriving at her apartment she said, "Boss, if you don't mind, I think I'll go change."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure," I excitedly replied. I start getting excited?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought today is my lucky day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went into the bedroom and, in about six minutes, she came out carrying a big birthday cake, followed by my wife, children, and dozens of our friends, all singing Happy Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there I sat on the couch naked!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3528145116475537798?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3528145116475537798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3528145116475537798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/perfect-birthday.html' title='The Perfect Birthday'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5273589894159272553</id><published>2009-08-06T13:26:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-10T11:44:51.062+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The fortunate Groom</title><content type='html'>I was a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me; It was her beautiful younger sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was always bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me and I always got more than a nice view. It had to be deliberate because she never did it when she was near anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day her 'little' sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister. Well, I was in total shock and couldn't say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door and headed straight towards my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said, "We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in your car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5273589894159272553?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5273589894159272553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5273589894159272553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/fortunate-groom-rated.html' title='The fortunate Groom'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2859272751231092900</id><published>2009-08-06T13:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-06T13:27:03.378+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Smart Lawyer</title><content type='html'>A Mafia Godfather finds out that his book-keeper has cheated him out of ten million bucks. His book-keeper is deaf. That was the reason he got the job in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was assumed that a deaf book-keeper would not hear anything that he might have to testify about in court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Godfather goes to confront the book-keeper about his missing $10 million, he brings along his attorney, who knows sign language .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Godfather tells the lawyer, "Ask him where the 10 million bucks he embezzled from me is." The attorney, using sign language, asks the book-keeper where the money is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book-keeper signs back: "I don't know what you are talking about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney tells the Godfather: "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to the book-keeper's temple and says, "Ask him again!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney signs to the book-keeper: "He'll kill you if you don't tell him!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book-keeper signs back: "OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed in my cousin Enzo's backyard in Queens !" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Godfather asks the attorney: "Well, what'd he say?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney replies: "He says you don't have the balls to pull the trigger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you just love lawyers?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2859272751231092900?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2859272751231092900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2859272751231092900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/smart-lawyer.html' title='The Smart Lawyer'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6567292581658480788</id><published>2009-08-03T14:19:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-03T14:19:49.560+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Woman's Work</title><content type='html'>One afternoon a man came home from work to find total mayhem in his house. His three children were outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she may be ill, or that something serious had happened. He found her lounging in the bedroom, still curled in bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked at her bewildered and asked,&lt;br /&gt;"What happened here today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She again smiled and answered,&lt;br /&gt;"You know every day when you come home from work and ask me what in the world did I do today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" was his incredulous reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6567292581658480788?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6567292581658480788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6567292581658480788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/womans-work.html' title='A Woman&apos;s Work'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2239856978600117739</id><published>2009-08-01T16:58:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-01T17:00:07.177+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How she knows you love her?</title><content type='html'>A man wakes up with a big hangover the morning after attending his company's annual Summer Party. He can't even remember how he got home from the party let alone how he got so drunk and is deathly afraid of what he may have done or said the night before to offend his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man forces his eyes open, however, and the first things he sees are two headache tablets next to a glass of water on his night table, and, next to them, a single red rose! He sits up with difficulty and sees his clothing hung on the back of his chair all clean and pressed and the rest of the house all spic and span and in perfect order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incredulous, the man takes the tablets, then winces when he sees a nasty black eye looking back at him from the bathroom mirror. Then he finds a note next to the red rose on the night table: "Sweetie, breakfast is waiting for you on the stove. I left early to buy the ingredients to make your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling! The note was signed, "Your loving wife".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man then stumbles into the kitchen and incredibly enough, there is a hot breakfast waiting for him along with steaming hot tea, and the morning paper. His daughter Jessie is also at the table, eating. "Jess... what happened last night?" The man asks, with some trepidation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you came home around four o'clock in the morning, drunk and out of your senses. You tripped and fell onto the coffee table and broke it, and then you vomited all over the bathroom floor, and got this black eye when you crashed into the table edge."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baffled, the man asked Jessie, "Then why is everything in such perfect shape and so clean? Why is there a rose on my nightstand, and breakfast on the stove waiting for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh that, Jessie replies, "Well, Mom pulled you into your bedroom, and when she tried to undress you, you yelled, "Leave me alone, I'm married and I love my wife!'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2239856978600117739?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2239856978600117739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2239856978600117739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-she-knows-you-love-her.html' title='How she knows you love her?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1802411148686825639</id><published>2009-07-30T11:06:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-30T11:06:38.523+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Pleading Your Case to St. Peter</title><content type='html'>A man arrives in Heaven appeared before St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter looks over his paperwork. The guy looks OK, but he wants to be sure. "Have you ever done anything of particular merit?" St. Peter asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I can think of one thing," the man replies. "On a trip to the Black Hills out in South Dakota, I came upon a gang of high-testosterone bikers threatening a young woman. I warned them to leave her alone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's impressive," the gatekeeper says. "Then what happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, they wouldn't back off, so I approached the largest and most heavily tattooed biker and smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground. I yelled, 'Now back off, biker boy, or you'll answer to me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's really brave," St. Peter said, clearly impressed. "But I don't have it in your paperwork. When did this happen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's see," the man says, looking at his watch. "About a minute and a half ago."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1802411148686825639?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1802411148686825639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1802411148686825639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/07/pleading-your-case-to-st-peter.html' title='Pleading Your Case to St. Peter'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1096476212263829874</id><published>2009-07-06T11:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-06T11:20:52.884+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cookies</title><content type='html'>A young lady was waiting for her flight in the boarding room of a big airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she would need to wait many hours, she decided to buy a book to spend her time. She also bought a packet of cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beside the armchair where the packed of cookies lay, a man sat down in the next seat, opened his magazine and started reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she took out the first cookie, the man took one also. She felt irritated but said nothing. She just thought: "What a nerve! If I was in the mood I would punch him for daring!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For each cookie she took the man took one too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was infuriating her but she didn't want to cause a scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When only one cookie remained, she thought: "Ah... What this abusive man do now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the man, taking the last cookie, divided it into half, giving her one half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah! That was too much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was was much too angry now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a huff, she took her book, her things and stormed to the boarding place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she sat down in her seat, she looked into her purse to take her eyeglasses, and, to her surprise, her packet of cookies was there, untouched, unopened!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She felt so ashamed! She realized that she was wrong...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had forgotten that her cookies were kept in her purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man had divided his cookies with her, without feeling angered or bitter. While she had been angry, thinking that she was dividing her cookies with him. And now there was no chance to explain herself... nor to apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are four things that you cannot recover!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stone, after the throw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word, after it's said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The occasion, after the loss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time, after it's gone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1096476212263829874?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1096476212263829874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1096476212263829874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/07/cookies.html' title='Cookies'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8580318368859748975</id><published>2009-07-02T11:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-02T11:02:55.130+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Big John Doesn't Pay!</title><content type='html'>One fine day, a bus driver went to the bus garage, started his bus, and drove off along the route. No problems for the first few stops - a few people got on, a few got off, and things went generally well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on. Six feet eight, built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, "Big John doesn't pay!" and sat down at the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that the driver was five feet three, thin, and basically week? Well, he was. Naturally, he didn't argue with Big John, but he wasn't happy about it. The next day the same thing happened - Big John got on again, made a show of refusing to pay, and sat down.  And the next day, and the next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This grated on the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of him. Finally he could stand it no longer. He signed up for body building courses, karate, judo, and all that good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong; what's more, he felt really good about himself. So on the next Monday, when Big John once again got on the bus and said, "Big John doesn't pay!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver stood up, glared back at the passenger, and screamed, "And why not?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, "Big John has a bus pass."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8580318368859748975?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8580318368859748975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8580318368859748975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/07/big-john-doesnt-pay.html' title='Big John Doesn&apos;t Pay!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-9085769365249040084</id><published>2009-06-17T12:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-17T12:02:29.567+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Baptized Singh</title><content type='html'>Each Friday night after work, Santa Singh would fire up his outdoor grill and cook a tandoori chicken and some meat kebabs. But, all of his neighbours were strict Catholics and since it was Lent, they were forbidden from eating chicken and meat on a Friday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The delicious aroma from the grilled meats was causing such a problem for the Catholic faithful that they finally talked to their Priest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Priest came to visit Santa, and suggested that he become a Catholic. After several classes and much study, Santa attended Mass and as the priest sprinkled holy water over him, he said, “You were born a Sikh, and raised a Sikh, but now, you are a Catholic." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa’s neighbors were greatly relieved, until Friday night arrived. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wonderful aroma of tandoori chicken and meat kebabs filled the neighborhood. The Priest was called immediately by the neighbors and, as he rushed into Santa's backyard, clutching a rosary and prepared to scold him, he stopped and watched in amazement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There stood Santa, holding a small bottle of holy water which he carefully sprinkled over the grilling meats and chanted: "Oye, you waz born a chicken, and you waz born a lamb, you waz raised a chicken, and you waz raised a lamb but now yaar(dear), you are a potato and tomato"!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-9085769365249040084?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/9085769365249040084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/9085769365249040084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/06/baptized-singh.html' title='The Baptized Singh'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2844960458947776054</id><published>2009-06-17T11:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-17T11:52:08.974+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Material Damage</title><content type='html'>A yuppie was opening the door of his BMW when a car came along and hit the door, ripping it off completely. When the police arrived at the scene, the yuppie complained bitterly about the damage to his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Officer, look what they've done to my Beemer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You yuppies are so materialistic, it's ridiculous" retorted the officer. "You're so worried about your stupid BMW, you didn't even notice that your left arm was ripped off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, my God!" screamed the yuppie, noticing the bloody stump where his arm used to be. "My Rolex!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2844960458947776054?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2844960458947776054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2844960458947776054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/06/material-damage.html' title='Material Damage'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6569191171501358863</id><published>2009-06-12T19:16:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-12T19:16:57.248+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sick Leave</title><content type='html'>I urgently needed a few days off work, but I knew the Boss would not  Allow ! me to ta ke leave. I thought that maybe if I acted 'CRAZY' then  He would tell me to take a few days off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hung upside down on the ceiling and made funny noises. My colleague asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was pretending  to  be a light bulb so that the Boss would think I was 'CRAZY' and give me a few days off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the Boss came into the office and asked 'What  Are  You doing?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I was a light bulb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, 'You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for A  Couple of days.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped down and walked out of the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my colleague followed me, the Boss asked him '...and where do you think you're going?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, 'I'm going home too, I can't work in the dark.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6569191171501358863?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6569191171501358863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6569191171501358863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/06/sick-leave.html' title='Sick Leave'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2301752470460095733</id><published>2009-05-14T12:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-14T12:31:02.872+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Pontiac that was Allergic to Vanilla Ice Cream!</title><content type='html'>For the engineers among us who understand that the obvious is not always the solution, and that the facts, no matter how implausible, are still the facts ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is the second time I have written you, and I don't blame youfor not answering me, because I kind of sounded crazy, but it is a fact that we have a tradition in our family of ice cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see, every time I buy vanilla ice cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds: 'What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pontiac President was understandably sceptical about the letter, but sent an engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well-educated man in a fine neighbourhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinner time, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla ice cream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The engineer returned for three more nights. The first night, the man got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data, time of day, type of gas used, time to drive back and forth, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavour. Why? The answer was in the layout of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanilla, being the most popular flavour, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavours were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to find the flavour and get checked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the question for the engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Once time became the problem -- not the vanilla ice cream -- the engineer quickly came up with the answer: vapour lock. It was happening every night, but the extra time taken to get the other flavours allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapour lock to dissipate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;/span&gt; Even insane-looking problems are sometimes real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2301752470460095733?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2301752470460095733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2301752470460095733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/05/pontiac-that-was-allergic-to-vanilla.html' title='The Pontiac that was Allergic to Vanilla Ice Cream!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7294435389083581387</id><published>2009-04-20T14:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-20T14:39:21.294+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Hate Mondays!</title><content type='html'>Monday. The first day of the work week we all dread to see. The Mamas and the Papas sang "Every other day of the week is fine- yeah! But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes, you can find me cryin' all of the time" in their 1966 hit, "Monday, Monday." The Bangles referred to it as being frenzied in their 1986 hit song "Manic Monday." No one has much good to say about this day that follows Sunday and precedes Tuesday. Read this informative article and find out some interesting facts about Monday, the second day of the week, that might make you feel differently about this day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Named Days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday, which originally got its name from the moon, has many days named for it. These include: Cyber Monday (follows Thanksgiving- refers to the increase in online sales); Easter Monday (follows Easter and is celebrated as a holiday in some cultures); Handsel Monday (first of the new year in which gifts are given to convey good wishes in Scotland and Northern England; Clean Monday (or Ash Monday- the first day of Lent. Refers to being free from sin); Big Monday (ESPN's College Basketball presentation); Black Monday (October 19, 1987- the day the Dow Jones Industrial Average dropped 508 points.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An interesting fact about Monday, the second day of the week, is that it's also referred to as "Blue Monday." The name is thought to have started because the first day of the work week used to be set aside for doing the laundry. Bluing was used to keep white clothes from becoming dingy and gray. From that product, wash day became known as "Blue Monday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though Monday isn't always wash day today, the term "Blue Monday" still exists. However, it's meaning is different. It now refers to the day when employees have to return to work after a weekend break. Another interesting fact about Monday, the second day of the week, is it's the most likely day for workers to have heart attacks. The British Medical Journal reported a 20% increase in heart attacks on Mondays as opposed to the other days of the week. The attacks may be caused by stress and high blood pressure caused by returning to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Monday Holidays&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several holidays always fall on a Monday. Some of these include Labor Day, Memorial Day, President's Day, Columbus Day and Veteran's Day.&lt;br /&gt;The Worst Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In many cultures, the first day of the work week holds the honor of being the worst day. Another interesting fact about Monday, the second day of the week, is, the French used to call automobiles that turn out to be lemons, "Monday Cars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;On the Brighter Side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe-it-or-not, there are two positive things about Monday. First, if you were born on this day, then you're not homely. Afterall, the old rhyme goes, "Monday's child is fair of face". That's a good thing. And second, when you're going to shop for a new car, do it on a Monday. Car sales people make the bulk of their sales on the weekends. When Monday rolls around, there are usually few customers in sight, and the weekend is a long ways off. That's why car sales people are more desperate on Monday, and they'll be more willing to cut you a deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Miscellaneous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, an interesting fact about Monday is, it's associated with Silver when it comes to Alchemy, an ancient chemical science. According to Astrology, Monday is is ruled by the zodiac signs Cancer, June 22 to July 22.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7294435389083581387?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7294435389083581387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7294435389083581387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-hate-mondays.html' title='I Hate Mondays!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8743093880078121639</id><published>2009-03-31T12:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-31T12:48:36.141+05:30</updated><title type='text'>April Fool's Day</title><content type='html'>April Fools' Day, sometimes called All Fools' Day, is one of the most light hearted days of the year. Its origins are uncertain. Some see it as a celebration related to the turn of the seasons, while others believe it stems from the adoption of a new calendar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year's Day Moves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ancient cultures, including those as varied as the Romans and the Hindus, celebrated New Year's Day on or around April 1. It closely follows the vernal equinox (March 20th or March 21st.) In medieval times, much of Europe celebrated March 25, the Feast of Annunciation, as the beginning of the new year.&lt;br /&gt;In 1582, Pope Gregory XIII ordered a new calendar (the Gregorian Calendar) to replace the old Julian Calendar. The new calendar called for New Year's Day to be celebrated Jan. 1. That year, France adopted the reformed calendar and shifted New Year's day to Jan. 1. According to a popular explanation, many people either refused to accept the new date, or did not learn about it, and continued to celebrate New Year's Day on April 1. Other people began to make fun of these traditionalists, sending them on "fool's errands" or trying to trick them into believing something false. Eventually, the practice spread throughout Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Problems With This Explanation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are at least two difficulties with this explanation. The first is that it doesn't fully account for the spread of April Fools' Day to other European countries. The Gregorian calendar was not adopted by England until 1752, for example, but April Fools' Day was already well established there by that point. The second is that we have no direct historical evidence for this explanation, only conjecture, and that conjecture appears to have been made more recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Constantine and Kugel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another explanation of the origins of April Fools' Day was provided by Joseph Boskin, a professor of history at Boston University. He explained that the practice began during the reign of Constantine, when a group of court jesters and fools told the Roman emperor that they could do a better job of running the empire. Constantine, amused, allowed a jester named Kugel to be king for one day. Kugel passed an edict calling for absurdity on that day, and the custom became an annual event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In a way," explained Prof. Boskin, "it was a very serious day. In those times fools were really wise men. It was the role of jesters to put things in perspective with humor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This explanation was brought to the public's attention in an Associated Press article printed by many newspapers in 1983. There was only one catch: Boskin made the whole thing up. It took a couple of weeks for the AP to realize that they'd been victims of an April Fools' joke themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Spring Fever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is worth noting that many different cultures have had days of foolishness around the start of April, give or take a couple of weeks. The Romans had a festival named Hilaria on March 25, rejoicing in the resurrection of Attis. The Hindu calendar has Holi, and the Jewish calendar has Purim. Perhaps there's something about the time of year, with its turn from winter to spring, that lends itself to lighthearted celebrations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Observances Around the World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April Fools' Day is observed throughout the Western world. Practices include sending someone on a "fool's errand," looking for things that don't exist; playing pranks; and trying to get people to believe ridiculous things.&lt;br /&gt;The French call April 1 Poisson d'Avril, or "April Fish." French children sometimes tape a picture of a fish on the back of their schoolmates, crying "Poisson d'Avril" when the prank is discovered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8743093880078121639?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8743093880078121639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8743093880078121639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/03/april-fools-day.html' title='April Fool&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7850053579040410359</id><published>2009-03-23T16:07:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-28T13:04:09.216+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Fun with Spoonerism</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Spoonerism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A spoonerism is an error in speech or deliberate play on words in which corresponding consonants, vowels, or morphemes are switched. It is named after the Reverend William Archibald Spooner (1844–1930), Warden of New College, Oxford, who was notoriously prone to this tendency. While spoonerisms are commonly heard as slips of the tongue resulting from unintentionally getting one's words in a tangle, they can also be used intentionally as a play on words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Some Funny Examples&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Fighting A Liar"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Lighting A Fire"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"You Hissed My Mystery Lecture"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"You Missed My History Lecture"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Cattle Ships And Bruisers"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Battle Ships And Cruisers"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Nosey Little Cook"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Cosy Little Nook"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"A Blushing Crow"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"A Crushing Blow"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Tons Of Soil"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Sons Of Toil"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Our Queer Old Dean"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Our Dear Old Queen"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"We'll Have The Hags Flung Out"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"We'll Have The Flags Hung Out"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"You've Tasted Two Worms"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"You've Wasted Two Terms"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Our Shoving Leopard"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Our Loving Shepherd"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"A Half-warmed Fish"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"A Half-formed Wish"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Is The Bean Dizzy?"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Is The Dean Busy?"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Know Your Blows"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Blow Your Nose"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Go And Shake A Tower"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Go And Take A Shower"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Tease My Ears"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Ease My Tears"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Nicking Your Pose"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Picking Your Nose"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"You Have Very Mad Banners"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"You Have Very Bad Manners"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Lack Of Pies"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Pack Of Lies"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"It's Roaring With Pain"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"It's Pouring With Rain"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Sealing The Hick"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Healing The Sick"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Go Help Me Sod"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"So Help Me God"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Pit Nicking"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Nit Picking"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Bowel Feast"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Foul Beast"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"I'm A Damp Stealer"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"I'm A Stamp Dealer"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Hypodemic Nurdle"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Hypodermic Needle"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Wave The Sails"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Save The Whales"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Chipping The Flannel On Tv"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Flipping The Channel On Tv"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Mad Bunny"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Bad Money"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"I'm Shout Of The Hour"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"I'm Out Of The Shower"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Lead Of Spite"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Speed Of Light"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"This Is The Pun Fart"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"This Is The Fun Part"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"I Hit My Bunny Phone"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"I Hit My Funny Bone"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Flutter By"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Butterfly"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Bedding Wells"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Wedding Bells"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"I Must Mend The Sail"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"I Must Send The Mail"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Cop Porn"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Popcorn"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"It Crawls Through The Fax"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"It Falls Through The Cracks"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"My Zips Are Lipped"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"My Lips Are Zipped"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Bat Flattery"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Flat Battery"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Would You Like A Nasal Hut?"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Would You Like A Hazel Nut?"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Puke On"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Coupon"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Belly Jeans"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Jelly Beans"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Eye Ball"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Bye All"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Fight In Your Race"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Right In Your Face"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Ready As A Stock"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Steady As A Rock"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"No Tails"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Toe Nails"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Listen Here"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Hiss And Lear"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Bowl Of Salad"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Soul Of Ballad"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Who Of Tarts?"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Two Of Hearts"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Whore Of Farts"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Four Of Hearts"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Hate Of Arts"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Eight Of Hearts"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Hen Of Tarts"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Ten Of Hearts"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Space Of Aids"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Ace Of Spades"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Spore Of Fades"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Four Of Spades"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Spate Of Aids"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Eight Of Spades"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Door Of Fireman's"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Four Of Diamonds"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Dive Of Fireman's"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Five Of Diamonds"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Dicks Of Simon's"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Six Of Diamonds"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Clue Of Tubs"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Two Of Clubs"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="red"&gt;"Clive Of Fubbs"&lt;/font&gt; for &lt;font color="green"&gt;"Five Of Clubs"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7850053579040410359?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7850053579040410359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7850053579040410359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/03/fun-with-spoonerism.html' title='Fun with Spoonerism'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3725839123636461895</id><published>2009-03-19T13:23:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-28T10:44:47.746+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Valentines Day Gift (Rated: 16+)</title><content type='html'>As Valentines day was approaching, Charlie decided to buy a special gift for his new girlfriend, Ruth. The couple had not been dating for very long, and so Charlie wanted to make sure the gift was just right. Ruth was always complaining about having cold hands, and so Charlie - after careful consideration - decided a good gift would be a nice pair of gloves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie took his sister with him to buy the gift - he wanted a woman's opinion. They found a nice pair of gloves at the store, and Charlie's sister purchased a pair of panties at the same time. Unfortunately, the sales clerk got the two items mixed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie mailed his Valentine's Day gift to Ruth, accompanied by the following note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose this Valentines Day gift as I noticed that you often don't wear any when we go out in the evenings. If it had not been for my sister, I would have chosen the ones with buttons, but she prefers short ones that are much easier to remove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are a lovely colour. The lady at the store where I bought them showed me the pair she had been wearing for the past three weeks, and they were hardly soiled at all. I had her try yours on for me and they looked quite lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was there to put them on you for the first time; no doubt, other hands will come into contact with them before I have a chance to see you again. When you take them off, remember to blow on them lightly before putting them away as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think how many times I'll be kissing them in the future. I hope you'll wear them Friday night for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Charlie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3725839123636461895?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3725839123636461895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3725839123636461895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/03/valentines-day-gift-rated-18.html' title='A Valentines Day Gift (Rated: 16+)'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7417913177151736088</id><published>2009-03-12T19:24:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-12T19:27:17.463+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What is knowledge?</title><content type='html'>During work, Robert and Dilbert were chatting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; Dil, I've been attending night classes for 5 months now and I have an exam next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Dilbert:&lt;/span&gt; oh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; For example, do you know who is Graham Bell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Dilbert:&lt;/span&gt; No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; He's the inventor of the phone in 1876; if you take night Courses you would know this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the same discussion took place:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; Do you know who Alexander Dumas is?&lt;br /&gt;Dilbert: No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; He's the author of "The 3 Musketeers", if you take night courses, you would know this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, once again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; And do you know who 'Jean Jacques Rousseau' is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Dilbert:&lt;/span&gt; No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; He's the author of "Confessions", if you take night courses, you would know this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, Dilbert got irritated and said: And you, do you know who is Robin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert:&lt;/span&gt; No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Dilbert:&lt;/span&gt; He's the guy roaming with your wife!! If you stop night courses, you would know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7417913177151736088?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7417913177151736088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7417913177151736088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-is-knowledge.html' title='What is knowledge?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4017212358829121560</id><published>2009-02-24T11:33:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-24T11:35:06.443+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Little Johnny - Finding Jesus</title><content type='html'>A Sunday school teacher is concerned that his students might be a little confused about Jesus, so he asks his class, "Where is Jesus today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steven raises his hand and says, "He's in Heaven."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary answers, "He's in my heart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Johnny waves his hand furiously and blurts out, "He's in our bathroom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surprised teacher asks Little Johnny how he knows this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," Little Johnny says, "every morning, my father gets up, bangs on the bathroom door and yells 'Jesus Christ, are you still in there?!'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4017212358829121560?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4017212358829121560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4017212358829121560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-johnny-finding-jesus.html' title='Little Johnny - Finding Jesus'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8760144152050683786</id><published>2009-02-24T11:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-24T11:33:22.497+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Little Johnny - Nickels &amp; Dimes!</title><content type='html'>Little Johnny is always being teased by the other neighborhood boys for being stupid. Their favorite joke is to offer Johnny his choice between a nickel and a dime -- Little Johnny always takes the nickel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, after Johnny takes the nickel, a neighbor man takes him aside and says, "Johnny, those boys are making fun of you. Don't you know that a dime is worth more than a nickel, even though the nickel's bigger?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johnny grins and says, "Well, if I took the dime, they'd stop doing it, and so far I've made $20!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8760144152050683786?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8760144152050683786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8760144152050683786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-johnny-nickels-dimes.html' title='Little Johnny - Nickels &amp; Dimes!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7000157115214472953</id><published>2009-01-31T20:40:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-31T20:41:10.121+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Dog that takes you into the Bar</title><content type='html'>Two men are walking their dogs (a doberman and a chihuahua) when they say to each other "I'm thirsty." They see a nearby bar and walk up to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, there was a sign on the door that said NO DOGS. They thought for awhile to try to figure out what they should do with no luck. Suddenly, the man with the doberman said, "I have an idea! Do what I do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man put on his sunglasses, walked up to the door and tried to get in but a big muscular man stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" asked the big man. "This is my seeing-eye dog." said the man hoping for good feedback. "Alrighty mister, go right in." said the big man. The doberman man walked in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man slipped his sunglasses on and did the same as the first man. "Where are you going?" asked the big man. "I'm going into the bar, this is my seeing-eye dog." he said. "A chihuahua?" asked the big man with suspicion. The other man, playing his part yelled, "They gave me a chihuahua!?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7000157115214472953?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7000157115214472953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7000157115214472953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/dog-that-takes-you-into-bar.html' title='The Dog that takes you into the Bar'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7544492561912843756</id><published>2009-01-31T20:38:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-31T20:38:45.757+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just follow the Tracks</title><content type='html'>Three men are stranded in the middle of the Canadian Forest and they don't know where they are at. They decide that they have to find some food. So the first man leaves and tells the other 2 that he is going to get some food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several Hours later, he comes back with a deer over his shoulder. The other 2 are amazed and ask him how he got a deer with no weopans. He replies, " I find tracks, I follow tracks, I get deer". They both are slightly confused but let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week later, they have eaten the deer, so they need to get more food. The second guy leaves and says that he is going to get food. He comes back a couple hours later with a elk over his shoulder. The other 2 ask how he got the elk. He simply replies, "I find tracks, I follow tracks, I get Elk".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five days later, they have eaten the elk, so they need more food. The third guy, feeling very cocky, thinks to himslef, " This is going to be a piece of cake. The other guys got the other animals so easy. I'm going to get an animal better than their's put together!". So he leaves to get some food. They wait a couple hours... he doesn't come back. They wait another couple hours, he is still missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after 9 hours of waiting, they see him coming back. His clothes are torn rags, he is covered in dirt with scrapes and bruises all over his body. He is bleeding from different gashes in his arms and legs along with one on the side of head. They ask, " What happened!". He looks at them, wide-eyed and confused, and replies, " I find tracks, I follow tracks, I get hit my train".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7544492561912843756?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7544492561912843756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7544492561912843756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-follow-tracks.html' title='Just follow the Tracks'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3799485934460995969</id><published>2009-01-31T20:34:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-31T20:34:46.498+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What Happened in Detroit</title><content type='html'>A tough looking biker had been in the biker bar for quite some time when he finally decided it was time, once again to hit the road. He stepped through the front door of the bar and instantly realized that his bike had vanished from the spot he had parked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All right" he said loudly, coming back into the busy biker bar "I'm going to have a shot of whisky and if my hog isn't back up front by the time I'm done, what happened in Detroit will happen here too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that many of the bikers ran out of the bar and within moments one came back to tell the tough biker that his hog was now parked in front of the bar for him. When the tough guy started to leave the bartender asked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pardon me, stranger, but what happened in Detroit?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tough biker replied casually: "I had to walk back to my hotel!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3799485934460995969?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3799485934460995969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3799485934460995969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-happened-in-detroit.html' title='What Happened in Detroit'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1444737330334394297</id><published>2009-01-21T16:54:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-21T16:57:25.039+05:30</updated><title type='text'>ATM Instructions</title><content type='html'>A new sign in the Bank Lobby reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please note that this Bank is installing new Drive-through ATM machines enabling customers to withdraw cash without leaving their vehicles. Customers using this new facility are requested to use the procedures outlined below when accessing their accounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After months of careful research, MALE and FEMALE procedures have been developed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please follow the appropriate steps for your gender:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Male Procedure&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drive up to the cash machine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put down your car window.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insert card into machine and enter PIN.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enter amount of cash required and withdraw.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Retrieve card, cash and receipt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put window up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drive off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Female Procedure&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drive up to cash machine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reverse and back up the required amount to align car window with the machine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Set parking brake, put the window down.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Find handbag, remove all contents on to passenger seat to locate card.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tell person on cell phone you will call them back and hang up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Attempt to insert card into machine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Open car door to allow easier access to machine due to its excessive distance from the car.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insert card.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Re-insert card the right way.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dig through handbag to find diary with your PIN written on the inside back page.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enter PIN.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Press cancel and re-enter correct PIN.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enter amount of cash required.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Check makeup in rear view mirror.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Retrieve cash and receipt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Empty handbag again to locate wallet and place cash inside.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Write debit amount in check register and place receipt in back of checkbook.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Re-check makeup.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drive forward 2 feet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reverse back to cash machine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Retrieve card.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Re-empty hand bag, locate card holder, and place card into the slot provided.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give dirty look to irate male driver waiting behind you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Restart stalled engine and pull off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Redial person on cell phone.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drive for 2 to 3 miles.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Release Parking Brake.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1444737330334394297?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1444737330334394297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1444737330334394297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/atm-instructions.html' title='ATM Instructions'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8606853372126322235</id><published>2009-01-21T15:59:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:59:40.643+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Curiosity Gets The Priest</title><content type='html'>A priest, in urgent need to use the bathroom, walks into a local bar. The bar is jumping with loud music and lively conversation, but every few minutes the lights abruptly go off. Every time the lights go off, the bar crowd bursts into loud whoops and applause, but when they see the priest enter the bar, the place becomes absolutely quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest walks over to the bartender and asks, "Can you please tell me where your bathroom is?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure, but I have to tell you, father, there's a statue of a naked woman in it and she?s wearing only a fig leaf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No problem, I'll just avert my eyes, then," Said the priest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender then shows the priest to the far side of the bar where the bathroom is located. After a short while, the priest comes out of the bathroom and the bar crowd pauses only long enough to give him a rousing cheer. Perplexed he goes over to the bartender and asks, I'm puzzled. Why did they cheer for me as I came out of the bathroom just now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, father, it's because your curiosity has made you human and likeable, just like us," said the bartender. "May I pour you a drink?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No thanks you, but, I'm still puzzled," said the priest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You see, father," chuckles the bartender, "every time somebody moves the fig leaf on the naked woman statue, the bar lights go off. Now, what do you say to that drink?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8606853372126322235?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8606853372126322235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8606853372126322235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/curiosity-gets-priest.html' title='Curiosity Gets The Priest'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6209788460313540652</id><published>2009-01-19T12:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-19T12:08:09.925+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bubba and Junior</title><content type='html'>Two good ol' boys, Bubba and Junior get promoted from Privates to Sergeants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after, they're out for a walk and Bubba says, "Hey, Junior - there's the NCO (Non-Commissioned officer) Club. Let's stop in and have us a drank."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But we're privates," protests Junior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, we're sergeants now," says Bubba, pulling him inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, Junior, I'm gonna sit down and have me a drank."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But, we're privates," says Junior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You blind, boy!" says Bubba, pointing at his stripes. "We's Sergeants now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they order their drinks and pretty soon a hooker comes up to Bubba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're cute," she says, "and I'd like to take you someplace and make you feel good -- but I've got a bad case of gonorrhea."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba pulls his friend to the side and whispers, "Junior, go look in the dictionary and see what that gonorrhea means. If it's good, give me the okay sign."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Junior goes to look it up, comes back, and gives Bubba the big okay sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks later Bubba is laid up in the infirmary with a terrible case of gonorrhea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Junior," he says, "What you give me the okay for?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well Bubba, in the dictionary, it says gonorrhea only affects the privates."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he pointed to his stripes and says, "But we's Sergeants now!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6209788460313540652?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6209788460313540652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6209788460313540652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/bubba-and-junior.html' title='Bubba and Junior'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4189104132220500906</id><published>2009-01-15T12:06:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:41:37.365+05:30</updated><title type='text'>You're Always By My Side</title><content type='html'>A man was walking across the road when he met with an accident. The impact was on his head which caused him to be in a coma for 2 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he opened his eyes, his wife was by his side. He told her (in tears), "When I was struggling with my studies in the University, I failed again and again. Sometimes I even have to re-take my papers. You were there by my side, encouraging me to go on trying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She squeezed his hands as he continued, "When I went for major interviews and failed to clinch any of the jobs, you were there, cutting out the job ads for me to apply..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He added, " ...then I started working in this little firm and finally got a big contract. I blew it because of a small mistake. But you are still there for me." His wife was in tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man said, "I finally got a job after being laid off for quite some time. But I never seem to be promoted and my hard work was not recognised. I remained in the same position from the day I joined the company till now. You are still beside me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife's tears trickled down as she listened to him, "And now I met with an accident and when I woke up, you are here with me. There's something I really like to say to you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She flung herself on the bed and hug her husband, sobbing with deep emotion. Finally her husband said, "I think you bring me bad luck."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4189104132220500906?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4189104132220500906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4189104132220500906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2009/01/youre-always-by-my-side.html' title='You&apos;re Always By My Side'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5384475982546917432</id><published>2008-11-26T12:42:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-26T17:22:14.858+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cinderella Would Be Shocked</title><content type='html'>Sure, there are some pretty stupid criminals out there. Yet this excerpt from a Washington Post article proves that not all criminals are dumb – in fact, some are so clever that the Post labeled this article, "The Best Comeback Line Ever"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In summary, the police arrested Patrick Lawrence, a 22-year-old white male, resident of Dacula, GA, in a pumpkin patch at 11:38 p.m. on Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lawrence will be charged with lewd and lascivious behavior, public indecency, and public intoxication at the Gwinnett County courthouse on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The suspect explained that as he was passing a pumpkin patch he decided to stop. "You know, a pumpkin is soft and squishy inside, and there was no one around here for miles. At least I thought there wasn't," he stated in a phone interview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lawrence went on to say that he pulled over to the side of the road, Picked out a pumpkin that he felt was appropriate to his purposes, cut a hole in it, and proceeded to satisfy his need. "I guess I was just really into it, you know?" he commented with evident embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the process, Lawrence apparently failed to notice a Gwinnett County police car approaching and was unaware of his audience until Officer Brenda Taylor approached him. "It was an unusual situation, that's for sure," said Officer Taylor. "I walked up to (Lawrence) and he's... just working away at this pumpkin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taylor went on to describe what happened when she approached Lawrence. "I just went up and said, 'Excuse me sir, but do you realize that you are screwing a pumpkin?' He froze and was clearly very surprised that I was there, and then looked me straight in the face and said, 'A pumpkin? Darn... is it midnight already?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5384475982546917432?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5384475982546917432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5384475982546917432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/cinderella-would-be-shocked.html' title='Cinderella Would Be Shocked'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4272911026234733607</id><published>2008-11-26T12:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-26T12:26:50.417+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Oppurtunity knocks the door only once!</title><content type='html'>A man with a gun goes into a bank and demands their money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he is given the money, he turns to a customer and asks, "Did you see me rob this bank?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "Yes sir, I did." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The robber then shot him in the temple , killing him instantly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then turned to a couple standing next to him and asked the man, "Did you see me rob this bank?" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "No sir, I didn"t, but my wife did!" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Moral:&lt;/span&gt; When Opportunity knocks, Make use of it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4272911026234733607?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4272911026234733607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4272911026234733607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/oppurtunity-knocks-door-only-once.html' title='Oppurtunity knocks the door only once!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2343831134797268405</id><published>2008-11-19T18:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-20T15:12:26.043+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Melvin and the mildly flatulent</title><content type='html'>Once-upon-a-time, there was a worthless piece of land known as the Kingdom of Wartlestoff. In the native language, Wartlestoff meant small painful swelling under the armpit. The people called it Wartlestoff because they couldn't actually name it shithole which was their first suggestion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wartlestoff was known throughout the continent for two things: 1. A really low average age of the citizens that was due to an incredibly high suicide rate and the fact that most people over five years-old tried to leave the country 2. A really low birth rate that was due to the fact there wasn't anybody in Wartlestoff that anybody wanted to have sex with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wartlestoff had been the object of several brutal wars by its neighboring countries, with each side claiming Wartlestoff belonged to the other. During a particularly brutal war, someone got the idea that they could declare Wartlestoff an autonomous state and everybody could go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new formed country, even a lousy one like Wartlestoff, could be turned into a larger one by an ambitious, enterprising and charismatic leader. The leaders of the warring countries realized this and decided to choose the king themselves to make sure that this didn't happen. They set out to find the most feeble minded, indecisive, and uncharasmatic twit for the throne. The only constraint, they decided, was that the twit should be of noble birth. All the countries were littered with feeble minded, indecisive, and uncharasmatic nobility who had been unemployed during the great layoffs of the feeble minded, indecisive, and uncharasmatic aristocracy and Wartlestoff was no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a great search through the mounds of resumes, the Kings found the man that they were looking for. He was known as Lord Melvin the mildly flatulent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was slow, fat, rude, ugly and tended to get lost on the way to the bathroom. His estate had consisted of over thirty people at its height. These people, however, were all his family or servants in the castle. They had also formed a new barony and revolted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They invited a nearby Lord to annex them into his estate. The new lord returned the favor by plundering them, killing the women and children and raising taxes tenfold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was said of him that "No one would follow him to a coke machine, much less into battle." When he failed to arrive for the interview or even give an explanation of his absence, this was considered a demonstration of just what a good choice they had made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was dragged from his castle and forcibly crowned. Afterwards the occupying armies fled the country as fast as their horses would take them. Stragglers were left behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of Melvin's first acts was to put his face on every coin that was stamped in the realm. This helped the economy in two ways: 1. The sheer ugliness of the coins caused people in other realms to refuse them outright, as a result money no longer left the country due to trade imbalances 2. The sheer ugliness of the coins meant that folks inside the realm didn't really want the coins either, as a result much less money changed hands and inflation was curbed. It was said on the street that "You could once again buy a loaf of bread for less than 400 gold crowns!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironically, the reduction of the trade imbalance and the rate of inflation would have been greatly heralded by the economists if he hadn't put them all to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;King Melvin the mildly flatulent then decided to find a new wife since his ex still refused to come back. He decided to try a strategy that had worked so well in the past, he sent out tons of resumes. When the various eligible women visited the castle for the interview, they asked questions like "You don't expect me to have sex with you do you?" and "We wouldn't actually have to have sex if I got this job right?". Melvin was unfazed. When Lady Bovina failed to refuse immediately, Melvin decided to go after her with unceasing effort. He organized a festival and a series of games in her honor. The week before the festival, he had all the roads from her castle to the amphitheater lined with lawyers stapled to crosses. The games were a series of contests between economists armed with shields and swords and lions. The crowds went wild as economist after economist was chewed up by the lions. The economists were eaten so quickly that several market analysts, psychotherapists and poets had to be rounded up to keep the crowds amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the day, the crowd was at a fever pitch. They were screaming "Melvin! Melvin! Melvin!" at the top of their lungs. Melvin, whose ego was just barely able to fit in the amphitheater with all those people began to give a speech. He was possessed. He began to tell them that he would raise an army to give the people what they had wanted most for their entire lives, another decent country to live in, decent land to build hovels on and new and better neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his speech reached a crescendo, he asked the crowd to be silent. He bent down on his knees and asked Lady Bovina to marry him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was startled. "Would you promise to love me forever?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forever!" he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Would you turn over your treasury to me?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every last coin!" he responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Would we have to have sex?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do we have to talk about this here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked around at all the quiet faces who were staring directly at her and made the biggest mistake of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stirring speech, the ascension of the new queen, and the extermination of all the lawyers were exactly the sort of inspiring things that the country had been starving for for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;years, and would have been duly celebrated by the historians and political analysts if they hadn't all been exterminated during the later games of the festival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the festival was over, Melvin raised a large and inspired if untrained and unequipped army. He led his army on muleback to the closest country and proceeded to attack by sending all his troops over the boarder as fast as he could, while he waited behind to see what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Epilogue: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melvin's army was thrashed as they charged into the waiting canons of the enemy. He blamed the loss on foreign treachery, but many pundits felt the loss was due to the fact that all the officers had sacrificed to the lions during the festival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melvin himself was later killed when the mule that he was riding on collapsed of a broken back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Bovina was the guest of honor at one last festival where she placed on the field to combat the last remaining economists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kings who had placed Melvin at the throne of Wartlestoff were taken out and beaten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the people of Wartlestoff still wait for the day when the clouds will open and a voice proclaim from the Heavens to the people all across the land that they can finally leave. Posted by Chris at 6:50 PM 0 comments Reactions:   The Motorcyclist A man was working on his motorcycle on his patio and his wife was in the house in the kitchen. The man was racing the engine on the motorcycle and somehow, the motorcycle slipped into gear. The man, still holding the handlebars, was dragged through a glass patio door and along with the motorcycle, dumped onto the floor inside the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife, hearing the crash, ran into the dining room, and found her husband laying on the floor, cut and bleeding, the motorcycle laying next to him, and the patio door shattered. The wife ran to the phone and summoned an ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ambulance arrived and transported the husband to the hospital, the wife uprighted the motorcycle and pushed it outside. Seeing that gas had spilled on the floor, the wife used some paper towels to blot up the gasoline, and threw them in the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband was treated at the hospital and was released to come home. After arriving home, he looked at the shattered patio door and the damage done to his motorcycle. He became despondent, went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finishing the cigarette, he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl while still seated. The wife, who was in the kitchen, heard a loud explosion and her husband screaming. She ran into the bathroom and found her husband laying on the floor. His trousers had been blown away and he was suffering burns on the buttocks, the back of his legs and his groin. The wife again ran to the phone and called for an ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same ambulance crew was dispatched. While they were going down the stairs to the street, accompanied by the wife, one of the paramedics asked how the husband had burned himself. She told them and the paramedics started laughing so hard, one of them tipped the stretcher and dumped the husband out. He fell down the remaining steps and broke his arm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2343831134797268405?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2343831134797268405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2343831134797268405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/melvin-and-mildly-flatulent.html' title='Melvin and the mildly flatulent'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3558705494617102235</id><published>2008-11-19T18:49:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-19T18:49:29.390+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Motorcyclist</title><content type='html'>A man was working on his motorcycle on his patio and his wife was in the house in the kitchen. The man was racing the engine on the motorcycle and somehow, the motorcycle slipped into gear. The man, still holding the handlebars, was dragged through a glass patio door and along with the motorcycle, dumped onto the floor inside the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife, hearing the crash, ran into the dining room, and found her husband laying on the floor, cut and bleeding, the motorcycle laying next to him, and the patio door shattered. The wife ran to the phone and summoned an ambulance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ambulance arrived and transported the husband to the hospital, the wife uprighted the motorcycle and pushed it outside. Seeing that gas had spilled on the floor, the wife used some paper towels to blot up the gasoline, and threw them in the toilet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband was treated at the hospital and was released to come home. After arriving home, he looked at the shattered patio door and the damage done to his motorcycle. He became despondent, went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finishing the cigarette, he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl while still seated. The wife, who was in the kitchen, heard a loud explosion and her husband screaming. She ran into the bathroom and found her husband laying on the floor. His trousers had been blown away and he was suffering burns on the buttocks, the back of his legs and his groin. The wife again ran to the phone and called for an ambulance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same ambulance crew was dispatched. While they were going down the stairs to the street, accompanied by the wife, one of the paramedics asked how the husband had burned himself. She told them and the paramedics started laughing so hard, one of them tipped the stretcher and dumped the husband out. He fell down the remaining steps and broke his arm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3558705494617102235?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3558705494617102235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3558705494617102235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/motorcyclist.html' title='The Motorcyclist'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3664668410060792804</id><published>2008-11-19T18:39:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-19T18:39:45.725+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Son's bad dream</title><content type='html'>A man goes into his son's room to wish him goodnight. His son is having a nightmare - the man wakes him and asks his son if he is OK? The son replies he is scared because he dreamt that Auntie Susie had died. The father assures the son that Auntie Susie is fine and sends him to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Auntie Susie dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week later, the man again goes into his son's room to wish him goodnight. His son is having another nightmare - the man again wakes his son. The son this time says that he had dreamt that granddaddy had died. The father assures the son that granddaddy is fine and sends him to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, granddaddy dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week later, the man again goes into his son's room to wish him goodnight. His son is having another nightmare. The man again wakes his son. The son this time says that he had dreamt that daddy had died. The father assures the son that he is OK and sends the boy to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man goes to bed but cannot sleep because he is so terrified. The next day, the man is scared for his life. He is sure he is going to die. After dressing he drives very cautiously to work fearful of a collision. He doesn't eat lunch because he is scared of food poisoning. He avoids everyone for he is sure he will somehow be killed. He jumps at every noise, starts at every movement and hides under his desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon walking in his front door, he finds his wife. "Good God Dear" he proclaims, "I've just had the worst day of my entire life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She responds, "You think your day was bad, the milkman dropped dead on the doorstep this morning."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3664668410060792804?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3664668410060792804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3664668410060792804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/sons-bad-dream.html' title='A Son&apos;s bad dream'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1478397019447503866</id><published>2008-11-19T11:20:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-19T11:23:34.374+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wrong Number!</title><content type='html'>A Husband makes a call to hospital to enquire about his pregnant wife. But accidentally the call went to a cricket stadium. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked "I am really worried! What is the condition?"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lost his sense after what he heard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what would be the reply?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is, "7 are already out! 3 More will be out hopefully by lunch! And The first one was a Duck!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1478397019447503866?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1478397019447503866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1478397019447503866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/wrong-number.html' title='Wrong Number!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8709841707686387275</id><published>2008-11-18T14:46:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-18T14:46:25.004+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Men are Men!</title><content type='html'>A man was sitting reading his papers when his wife hit him round the Head with a frying pan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What was that for?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife replied "That was for the piece of paper with the name Julie on it that I found in your pants pocket".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man then said "When I was at the races last week Julie was the name of the horse I bet on!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife apologized and went on with the housework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three days later the man is watching TV when his wife bashes him on the head with an even bigger frying pan, knocking him unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon re-gaining consciousness the man asked why she had hit again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife replied. "Your horse called up!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8709841707686387275?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8709841707686387275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8709841707686387275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/men-are-men.html' title='Men are Men!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7392182702439526026</id><published>2008-11-17T20:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-23T16:44:23.574+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes, don't be Honest!</title><content type='html'>"One day, while a woodcutter was cutting a branch of a tree above a river, his axe fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "Why are you crying?" The woodcutter replied that his axe has fallen into water, and he needed the axe to make his living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord went down into the water and reappeared with a golden axe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this your axe?" the Lord asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woodcutter replied, "No." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord again went down and came up with a silver axe. "Is this your axe?" the Lord asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the woodcutter replied, "No." The Lord went down again and came up with an iron axe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this your axe?" the Lord asked. The woodcutter replied, "Yes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord was pleased with the man's honesty and gave him all three axes to keep, and the woodcutter went home happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time later the woodcutter was walking with his wife along the riverbank, and his wife fell into the river. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked him, "Why are you crying?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Lord, my wife has fallen into the water!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord went down into the water and came up with Jennifer Lopez."Is this your wife?" the Lord asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," cried the woodcutter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woodcutter replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, if I had said 'no' to Jennifer Lopez, You would have come up with Catherine Zeta-Jones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then if I said 'no' to her, you would have come up with my wife. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, I am a poor man, and am not able to take care of all three wives, so THAT'S why I said yes to Jennifer Lopez." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of this story is: Whenever a man lies, it is for a good and honorable reason, and for the benefit of others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7392182702439526026?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7392182702439526026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7392182702439526026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/sometimes-dont-be-honest.html' title='Sometimes, don&apos;t be Honest!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2071928712470751772</id><published>2008-11-11T16:46:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-11T16:49:43.431+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why women are great?</title><content type='html'>A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife stayed home. He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Lord: I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays at home. I want her to know what I go through, so please allow her body to switch with mine for a day. Amen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the bank to make a deposit, went grocery shopping, then drove home to put away the groceries, paid the bills and balanced the chequebook. He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog. Then it was already 1PM. and he hurried to make the beds, do the laundry, vacuum, dust and sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument With them on the way home. Set out milk and cookies and got the kids organized to do their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing. At 4:30PM he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for salad, breaded the pork chops and snapped fresh beans for supper After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 9PM, he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love, which he managed to get through without complaint. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord, I don't know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My son, I feel you have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were. You'll just have to wait nine months, though. You got pregnant last night."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2071928712470751772?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2071928712470751772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2071928712470751772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/why-women-are-great.html' title='Why women are great?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6204516696103797302</id><published>2008-11-07T10:34:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-28T21:20:23.157+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a Friend</title><content type='html'>It’s been a while&lt;br /&gt;since my heart has been changing,&lt;br /&gt;since I’ve been dealing with it lonesome...&lt;br /&gt;every time you came back,&lt;br /&gt;I hated the guy that made you cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’d rather protect you,&lt;br /&gt;although I don’t know if it will make it better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I’ll hold you and love you&lt;br /&gt;Is what I thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby, come to me now&lt;br /&gt;And be my lady&lt;br /&gt;I’ve watched you for too long&lt;br /&gt;I stood there with no words,&lt;br /&gt;hiding my pitiful heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a friend, to remain as friends,&lt;br /&gt;I had to push the confessions down my throat&lt;br /&gt;But now I’ll confess to you,&lt;br /&gt;I love you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You hold my hand and tell me you only have me&lt;br /&gt;Keeping me as a friend,&lt;br /&gt;you say it’s a blessing&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you say let’s never change,&lt;br /&gt;I had to push my feelings down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might be best if I protect you,&lt;br /&gt;not knowing if it will be better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept hearing it but I kept cool&lt;br /&gt;I was too scared to lose you, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Come to me now&lt;br /&gt;And be my lady&lt;br /&gt;I’ve watched you for too long&lt;br /&gt;I stood there with no words,&lt;br /&gt;hiding my pitiful heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a friend, to remain as friends,&lt;br /&gt;I had to push the confessions down my throat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That confession I had to hold it in&lt;br /&gt;But now I’ll confess to you,&lt;br /&gt;I love you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6204516696103797302?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6204516696103797302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6204516696103797302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/must-tries-of-my-india-o.html' title='Confessions of a Friend'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5406670691739618889</id><published>2008-11-05T16:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-05T16:22:33.427+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why am I the one to die?</title><content type='html'>I went to a party Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I remembered what you said.&lt;br /&gt;You told me not to drink, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;So I drank soda instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really felt proud inside, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;The way you said I would.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't drink and drive, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;Even though the others said I should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I did the right thing, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I know you are always right.&lt;br /&gt;Now the party is finally ending, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;As everyone is driving out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got into my car, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I knew I'd get home in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;Because of the way you raised me,&lt;br /&gt;So responsible and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to drive away, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;But as I pulled out into the road,&lt;br /&gt;The other car didn't see me, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;And hit me like a load.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I lay there on the pavement, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I hear the policeman say,&lt;br /&gt;The other guy is drunk, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm the one who will pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lying here dying, Mom¦.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd get here soon.&lt;br /&gt;How could this happen to me, Mom?&lt;br /&gt;My life just burst like a balloon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is blood all around me, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;And most of it is mine.&lt;br /&gt;I hear the medic say, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I'll die in a short time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to tell you, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I swear I didn't drink.&lt;br /&gt;It was the others, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;The others didn't think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was probably at the same party as I.&lt;br /&gt;The only difference is, he drank&lt;br /&gt;And I will die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people drink, Mom?&lt;br /&gt;It can ruin your whole life.&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling sharp pains now.&lt;br /&gt;Pains just like a knife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy who hit me is walking, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;And I don't think it's fair.&lt;br /&gt;I'm lying here dying&lt;br /&gt;And all he can do is stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell my brother not to cry, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;Tell Daddy to be brave.&lt;br /&gt;And when I go to heaven, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;Put 'GOOD BOY' on my grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone should have told him, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;Not to drink and drive.&lt;br /&gt;If only they had told him, Mom,&lt;br /&gt;I would still be alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My breath is getting shorter, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;I'm becoming very scared.&lt;br /&gt;Please don't cry for me, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;When I needed you, you were always there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one last question, Mom.&lt;br /&gt;Before I say good bye.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't drink and drive,&lt;br /&gt;So why am I the one to die?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5406670691739618889?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5406670691739618889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5406670691739618889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/11/why-am-i-one-to-die.html' title='Why am I the one to die?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-305509759558291551</id><published>2008-10-31T20:17:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-31T20:17:49.536+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Successful Couple</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time a married couple celebrated their 25th marriage anniversary. They had become famous in the city for not having a single conflict in their period of 25 years. Local newspaper editors had gathered at the occasion to find out the secret of their well known "happy going marriage".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Editor: "Sir! It's amazingly unbelievable. How did you make this possible?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband recalling his old honeymoon days said: " We had been to Shimla for honeymoon after marriage. Having selected the horse riding finally, we both started the ride on different horses. My horse was pretty okay but the horse on which my wife was riding seemed to be a crazy one. On the way ahead, that horse jumped suddenly, making my wife topple over. Recovering her position from the ground, she patted the horse's back and said "This is your first time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She again climbed the horse and continued with the ride. After a while, it happened again. This time she again kept calm and said "This is your second time" and continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the horse dropped her third time, she silently took out the revolver from the purse and shot the horse dead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouted at my wife: "What did you do you psycho! You killed the poor animal! Are you crazy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave a silent look and said: "This is your first time!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband: "That's it! We are happy ever after!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-305509759558291551?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/305509759558291551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/305509759558291551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/successful-couple.html' title='The Successful Couple'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8324794326405443923</id><published>2008-10-30T13:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-30T13:20:17.929+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Ant and the Grasshopper</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;An Old Story:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come winter, the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Now the same in Indian Version:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Grasshopper thinks the Ant's a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come winter, the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NDTV, BBC, CNN, TV9 show up to provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mayawati states this as `injustice' done on Minorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for 'Bengal Bandh' inWest Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and Grasshoppers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the ' Prevention of Terrorism Against Grasshoppers Act' [POTAGA], with effect from the beginning of the winter. Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational Institutions and in Government Services. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes,it's home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arundhati Roy calls it 'A Triumph of Justice'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years later... The Ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi-billion dollar company in Silicon Valley, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100s of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result of loosing lot of hard working Ants and feeding the grasshoppers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India is still a developing country!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8324794326405443923?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8324794326405443923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8324794326405443923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/ant-and-grasshopper.html' title='The Ant and the Grasshopper'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8462702010679128725</id><published>2008-10-29T11:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-29T11:07:17.038+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Thief Detector</title><content type='html'>In U.S. they invented a machine that catches thieves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They took it out to different countries for a test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In U.S.A, in 30 minutes, it caught 20 thieves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In UK, in 30 minutes it caught 50 thieves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spain, in 30 minutes it caught 65 thieves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghana, in 30 minutes it caught 600 thieves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India, in 15 minutes the machine was stolen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comments?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8462702010679128725?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8462702010679128725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8462702010679128725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/thief-detector.html' title='Thief Detector'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2133522383812419192</id><published>2008-10-24T18:37:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-24T18:38:58.322+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Eight Lies of a Mother</title><content type='html'>1. The story began when I was a child; I was born as a son of a poor family. Even for eating, we often got lack of food. Whenever the time for eating, mother often gave me her portion of rice. While she was removing her rice into my bowl, she would say "Eat this rice, son. I'm not hungry". That was Mother's First Lie &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. When I was getting to grow up, the persevering mother gave her spare time for fishing in a river near our house, she hoped that from the fishes she got, she could gave me a little bit nutritious food for my growth. After fishing, she would cook the fishes to be a fresh fish soup, which raised my appetite. While I was eating the soup, mother would sit beside me and eat the rest meat of fish, which was still on the bone of the fish I ate. My heart was touched when I saw it. I then used my chopstick and gave the other fish to her. But she immediately refused it and said "Eat this fish, son. I don't really like fish." That was Mother's Second Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Then, when I was in Junior High School, to fund my study, mother went to an economic enterprise to bring some used-matches boxes that would be stuck in. It gave her some money for covering our needs. As the winter came, I woke up from my sleep and looked at my mother who was still awoke, supported by a little candlelight and within her perseverance she continued the work of sticking some used-matches box. I said, "Mother, go to sleep, it's late, tomorrow morning you still have to go for work. " Mother smiled and said "Go to sleep, dear. I'm not tired." That was Mother's Third Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. At the time of final term, mother asked for a leave from her work in order to accompany me. While the daytime was coming and the heat of the sun was starting to shine, the strong and persevering mother waited for me under the heat of the sun's shine for several hours. As the bell rang, which indicated that the final exam had finished, mother immediately welcomed me and poured me a glass of tea that she had prepared before in a cold bottle. The very thick tea was not as thick as my mother's love, which was much thicker. Seeing my mother covering with perspiration, I at once gave her my glass and asked her to drink too. Mother said "Drink, son. I'm not thirsty!". That was Mother's Fourth Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. After the death of my father because of illness, my poor mother had to play her role as a single parent. By held on her former job, she had to fund our needs alone. Our family's life was more complicated. No days without sufferance. Seeing our family's condition that was getting worse, there was a nice uncle who lived near my house came to help us, either in a big problem and a small problem. Our other neighbors who lived next to us saw that our family's life was so unfortunate, they often advised my mother to marry again. But mother, who was stubborn, didn't care to their advice, she said "I don't need love." That was Mother's Fifth Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. After I had finished my study and then got a job, it was the time for my old mother to retire. But she didn't want to; she was sincere to go to the marketplace every morning, just to sell some vegetable for fulfilling her needs. I, who worked in the other city, often sent her some money to help her in fulfilling her needs, but she was stubborn for not accepting the money. She even sent the money back to me. She said "I have enough money." That was Mother's Sixth Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. After graduated from Bachelor Degree, I then continued my study to Master Degree. I took the degree, which was funded by a company through a scholarship program, from a famous University in America . I finally worked in the company. Within a quite high salary, I intended to take my mother to enjoy her life in America . But my lovely mother didn't want to bother her son, she said to me "I'm not used to." That was Mother's Seventh Lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. After entering her old age, mother got a flank cancer and had to be hospitalized. I, who lived in miles away and across the ocean, directly went home to visit my dearest mother. She lied down in weakness on her bed after having an operation. Mother, who looked so old, was staring at me in deep yearn. She tried to spread her smile on her face; even it looked so stiff because of the disease she held out. It was clear enough to see how the disease broke my mother's body, thus she looked so weak and thin. I stared at my mother within tears flowing on my face. My heart was hurt, so hurt, seeing my mother on that condition. But mother, with her strength, said "Don't cry, my dear. I'm not in pain." That was Mother's Eight Lie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2133522383812419192?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2133522383812419192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2133522383812419192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/eight-lies-of-mother.html' title='Eight Lies of a Mother'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1404691721883459867</id><published>2008-10-21T15:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-21T15:57:50.445+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Triple Filter Test</title><content type='html'>In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything, I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Triple filter?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it the triple filter test." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The first filter is TRUTH. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All right," said Socrates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of GOODNESS. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, on the contrary..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of USEFULNESS. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, not really." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1404691721883459867?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1404691721883459867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1404691721883459867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/triple-filter-test.html' title='Triple Filter Test'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-498398484166937176</id><published>2008-10-13T12:01:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-13T12:01:44.674+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Faith</title><content type='html'>In a small town, a person decided to open up his bar business, which was right opposite to the Temple. The Temple &amp; its congregation started a campaign to block the bar from opening with petitions and prayed daily against his business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work progressed. However, when it was almost complete and was about to open a few days later, a strong lightning struck the bar and it was burnt to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The temple folks were rather smug in their outlook after that, the bar owner sued the Temple authorities on the grounds that the Temple through its congregation &amp; prayers was ultimately responsible for the demise of his bar shop, either through direct or indirect actions or means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In its reply to the court, the temple vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection that their prayers were reasons to the bar shop's demise. As the case made its way into court, the judge looked over the paperwork at the hearing and commented:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how I'm going to decide this case, but it appears from the paperwork, we have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer and we have an entire temple and its devotees that doesn't."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-498398484166937176?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/498398484166937176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/498398484166937176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/10/faith.html' title='Faith'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4237434878262640295</id><published>2008-09-26T13:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-30T16:26:59.504+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Copy Error</title><content type='html'>A new monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to help the other monks in copying the old texts by hand. He notices, however, that they are copying from copies, not the original manuscripts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the new monk goes to the head monk to ask him about this, pointing out that if there were an error in the first copy, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The head monk says, "We have been copying from the copies for centuries,but you make a good point, my son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he goes down into the cellar with one of the copies to check it against the original. Hours go by and nobody sees him. So, one of the monks goes downstairs to look for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing sobbing coming from the back of the cellar, he finds the old monk leaning over one of the original books crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asks the old monk what's wrong, and in a choked voice came the reply, "The word is celebrate."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4237434878262640295?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4237434878262640295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4237434878262640295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/09/copy-error.html' title='Copy Error'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-3843809209173763597</id><published>2008-08-29T15:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:39:24.045+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Zoology Test</title><content type='html'>A college student needed a small two-hour course to fill his schedule and the only one available was wildlife Zoology. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he joined in and after one week of study, a test was held. The professor passed out a sheet of small paper where in each square was a carefully drawn picture of a bird's legs. No bodies, no feet, just legs. The test asked each student to identify the birds from their legs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our student sat and stared at the test getting angrier every minute. Finally he stomped up to the front of the classroom and threw the test on the teacher's desk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is the worst test I have ever written." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher looked up and said: "Young man, you have not filled in anything and you definitely have failed the test. Tell me, what's your name?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student pulled up his pant to the knee showing his legs and said, "You tell me..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-3843809209173763597?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3843809209173763597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/3843809209173763597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/08/zoology-test.html' title='A Zoology Test'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8490648604028674477</id><published>2008-04-24T18:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-24T18:24:44.708+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Some More Facts ;o)</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul type="square"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;People who ride on roller coaters have a higher chance of having a blood clot in the brain.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Black bears are not always black they can be brown, cinnamon, yellow and sometimes white.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;People with blue eyes see better in dark.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Each year 30,000 people are seriously injured by exercise equipment.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The placement of a donkey's eyes in its head enables it to see all four feet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The sun is 330330 times larger than the earth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The cow gives nearly 200000 glass of milk in her lifetime.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;There are more female than male millionaires in the U.S.A.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A male baboon can kill a leopard.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When a person dies, hearing is usually the first sense to go.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bill gates house was designed using Macintosh computer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nearly 22,000 cheques will be deducted from the wrong account over the next hour.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Almost all varieties of breakfast cereals are made from grass.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Some lions mates over 50 times a day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;American did not commonly use forks until after the civil war.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The most productive day of the week is Tuesday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the 1930's America track star Jesse Owens used to race against horses and dogs to earn a living.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;There's a great mushroom in Oregon that is 2,400 years old. Covers 3.4 square miles of land and is still growing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jimmy Carter is the first U.S.A. president to have born in hospital.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cleopatra married two of her brothers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Human birth control pill work on gorillas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The right lung takes in more air than the left.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It is illegal to own a red car in shanghai china.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A hard-boiled egg will spin. An uncooked or soft-boiled egg will not.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Astronauts cannot burp in space.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The snowiest city in the U.S.A. is blue canyon, California Lake Nicaragua in Nicaragua is the only fresh water lake in the world that has sharks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kite flying is a professional sport in Thailand.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The great warrior Genghis khan died in bed while having $ex.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;No matter how cold it gets gasoline will not freeze.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;SNAILS have 14175 teeth laid along 135 rows on their tongue.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A BUTTERFLY has 12,000 eyes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;DOLPHINS sleep with 1 eye open.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A BLUE WHALE can eat as much as 3 tones of food everyday, but at the same time can live without food for 6 months.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The EARTH has over 12,00,000 species of animals, 3,00,000 species of plants &amp; 1,00,000 other species.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The fierce DINOSAUR was TYRANNOSAURS which has sixty long &amp; sharp teeth, used to attack &amp; eat other dinosaurs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;DEMETRIO was a mammal like REPTILE with a snail on its back. This acted as a radiator to cool the body of the animal.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;CASSOWARY is one of the dangerous BIRD, that can kill a man or animal by tearing off with its dagger like claw.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The SWAN has over 25,000 feathers in its body.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;OSTRICH eats pebbles to help digestion by grinding up the ingested food.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;POLAR BEAR can look clumsy &amp; slow but during chase on ice, can reach 25 miles / hr of speed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;KIWIS are the only birds, which hunt by sense of smell.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;ELEPHANT teeth can weigh as much as 9 pounds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;OWL is the only bird, which can rotate its head to 270 degrees.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the last 4000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;On average, people fear spiders more than they do death.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The c!garette lighter was invented before the match.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Like fingerprints, everyone's tongue print is different.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tapeworms range in size from about 0.04 inch to more than 50 feet in length.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;German Shepherds bite humans more than any other breed of dog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A female mackerel lays about 500,000 eggs at one time. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8490648604028674477?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8490648604028674477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8490648604028674477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/04/some-more-facts-o.html' title='Some More Facts ;o)'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7060899212834140846</id><published>2008-04-24T14:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-24T14:01:25.728+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why Gujarathies are the best in business?</title><content type='html'>There was once a Gujarati called Navneet Bhai Patel, owning a shop, living in USA, and he was involved in a car accident. At the hospital, when he woke, he called for the nurse to find out what had happened to him. I'm very sorry, sir, but you were involved in a very bad car crash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Car crash! My Corolla!! Is my car all right?" he asked hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sir, your car was destroyed, but that is the least of your worries - you lost your left arm in the crash, and we were unable to save it," she said apologetically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I lost my arm? My Swiss Watch! My Swiss Watch!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sir, please calm down. That is the least of your worries. You are in a very critical condition, but all your family is here to see you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked for his family to be called in. As they gathered around the bed, he called for each of them by name.&lt;br /&gt;"Alpa, are you here?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am here dear, and I will never leave you", said Mrs. Patel.&lt;br /&gt;"Diness, are you here?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am here father, and I will never leave you."&lt;br /&gt;"Kalpess, are you here?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am here father, and I will never leave you."&lt;br /&gt;"Kamless, my son, are you here?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am here father, and I will never leave you."&lt;br /&gt;"Paress, my child, are you here too?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am here father, and I will never leave you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well" said Navneet Bhai thoughtfully, "Alpa, Diness, Kalpess, Paress and Kamless are here... and if all of you are here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN WHO THE HELL IS IN THE SHOP!!!!!????" he cried loudly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7060899212834140846?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7060899212834140846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7060899212834140846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/04/why-gujarathies-are-best-in-business.html' title='Why Gujarathies are the best in business?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6636735001882180550</id><published>2008-04-07T11:56:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-07T11:56:31.076+05:30</updated><title type='text'>George Bush &amp; Abdul Kalam</title><content type='html'>While visiting India, George Bush is invited to tea with Abdul Kalam. He Asks Kalam what his leadership philosophy is. He says that, it is to Surround him with intelligent people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush asks how he knows if they're intelligent. "I do so by asking them the right questions," says the Kalam. "Allow me to demonstrate. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush watches as Kalam phones Manmohan Singh and says, "Mr.. Prime Minister, please answer this question: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your mother has a child, and your father has a child, and this child is not your brother or sister. Who is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manmohan immediately responds, "It's me, Sir!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Correct. Thank you and good-bye, sir," says Kalam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hangs up and says, "Did you get that, Mr. Bush?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush nods: "Yes Mr. President. Thanks a lot.. I'll definitely be using that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush, upon returning to Washington, decides he'd better put Condoleezza Riceto the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush summons her to the White House and says, "Condoleezza, I wonder if you can answer a question for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why, of course, sir. What's on your mind?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush poses the question: "Uhh, your mother has a child, and your father has a child, and this child is not your brother or your sister. Who is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rice was puzzled and finally asks, "Can I think about it and get back to you?" Bush agrees, and Rice leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rice immediately calls a meeting of senior senators, and they puzzle over the question for several hours, but nobody can come up with an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, in desperation, Rice calls Colin Powell and explains the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Powell, your mother has a child, and your father has a child, and this child is not your brother or your sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Powell answers immediately, "It's me, of course."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much relieved Rice rushes back to the White House, finds George Bush, and exclaims, "I know the answer, sir! I know who it is! It's our Colin Powell !"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Bush replies in disgust, "Wrong, it's Manmohan Singh!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6636735001882180550?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6636735001882180550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6636735001882180550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/04/george-bush-abdul-kalam.html' title='George Bush &amp; Abdul Kalam'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-1394687124041711969</id><published>2008-03-28T12:47:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-30T10:33:57.609+05:30</updated><title type='text'>SHIT</title><content type='html'>A businessman got on an elevator in a building. When he entered the elevator, there was a blonde already inside and she greeted him by saying, "T-G-I-F" (letters only).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled at her and replied, "S-H-I-T" (letters only).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at him, puzzled, and said, "T-G-I-F" again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He acknowledged her remark again by answering, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blond was trying to be friendly, so she smiled her biggest smile and said as sweetly as possibly "T-G-I-F" another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man smiled back to her and once again replied with a quizzical expression, "S-H-I-T."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blond finally decided to explain things, and this time she said, "T-G-I-F, Thank God It's Friday, get it?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man answered, "Sorry, Honey, It's Thursday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-1394687124041711969?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1394687124041711969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/1394687124041711969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2008/03/sorry-honey-its-thursday.html' title='SHIT'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-5181262401380849737</id><published>2007-11-06T10:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-11-06T10:57:42.258+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Can Anyone Please Answer These Questions?</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If all the nations in the world are in debt(am not joking. even US has got debts), where did all the money go? (weird)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When dog food is new and improved tasting, who tests it? (to be give a thought)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;What is the speed of darkness? (absurd)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If the "black box" flight recorder is never damaged during a plane crash, why isn't the whole airplane made out of that stuff? (very good thinking)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Who copyrighted the copyright symbol? (who knows)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can you cry under water? (let me try)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why do people say, "you've been working like a dog" when dogs just sit around all day? (i think they meant something else)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why are the numbers on a calculator and a phone reversed? (God knows)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do fish ever get thirsty? (let me ask and tell)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can you get cornered in a round room? (by ones eyes)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why do birds not fall out of trees when they sleep? (tonight i will stay and watch)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;What came first, the fruit or the color orange? (seed)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from? (No comments)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;What should one call a male ladybird? (No comments)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If a person suffered from amnesia and then was cured would they remember that they forgot? (can somebody help )&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can you blow a balloon up under water? (yes u can)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why is it called a "building" when it is already built? (strange isnt it)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you were traveling at the speed of sound and you turned on your radio would you be ! able to hear it? (got to think scientifically)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you're traveling at the speed of light and you turn your headlights on, what happens? (i dont have a change to try)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why is it called a TV set when theres only one? (very nice)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If a person owns a piece of land do they own it all the way down to the core of the earth? (this is nice)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why do most cars have speedometers that go up to at least 130 when you legally can't go that fast on any road? (stupid, break the law)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-5181262401380849737?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5181262401380849737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/5181262401380849737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/11/can-anyone-please-answer-these.html' title='Can Anyone Please Answer These Questions?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8027375977052749603</id><published>2007-09-19T18:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:12:55.717+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Gift To Mom</title><content type='html'>Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctors and lawyers and prospered. Some years later, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the gifts they were able to give their elderly mother who lived far away in another city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first said, "I had a big house built for Mama."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second said, "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in the house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third said "I had my Mercedes dealer deliver an SL600 to her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fourth said, "You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read anymore because she can't see very well. I met this preacher who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took twenty preachers 12 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other brothers were impressed. After the holidays Mom sent out her thank you notes. "She wrote: "Milton, the house you built is so huge. I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home, I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Michael, you gave me an expensive theater with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead, I've lost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8027375977052749603?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8027375977052749603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8027375977052749603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/gift-to-mom.html' title='A Gift To Mom'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6767745913663310043</id><published>2007-09-19T10:27:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-19T10:28:20.697+05:30</updated><title type='text'>50 Facts to Know!</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The word "queue" is the only word in the English language that is still pronounced the same way when the last four letters are removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beetles taste like apples, wasps like pine nuts, and worms like fried bacon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Of all the words in the English language, the word 'set' has the most definitions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Almost" is the longest word in the English language with all the letters in alphabetical order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Rhythm" is the longest English word without a vowel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In 1386, a pig in France was executed by public hanging for the murder of a child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A cockroach can live several weeks with its head cut off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Human thigh bones are stronger than concrete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can't kill yourself by holding your breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is a city called Rome on every continent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's against the law to have a pet dog in Iceland!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Your heart beats over 100,000 times a day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Horatio Nelson, one of England's most illustrious admirals was throughout his life, never able to find a cure for his sea-sickness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The skeleton of Jeremy Bentham is present at all important meetings of the University of London&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Right handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Your ribs move about 5 million times a year, everytime you breathe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The elephant is the only mammal that can't jump!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One quarter of the bones in your body, are in your feet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Like fingerprints, everyone's tongue print is different!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The first known transfusion of blood was performed as early as 1667, when Jean-Baptiste, transfused two pints of blood from a sheep to a young man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fingernails grow nearly 4 times faster than toenails! Most dust particles in your house are made from dead skin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The present population of 5 billion plus people of the world is predicted to become 15 billion by 2080.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Women blink nearly twice as much as men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Adolf Hitler was a vegetarian, and had only ONE testicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Honey is the only food that does not spoil. Honey found in the tombs of Egyptian pharaohs has been tasted by archaeologists and found edible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Months that begin on a Sunday will always have a "Friday the 13th."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Coca-Cola would be green if colouring weren't added to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On average a hedgehog's heart beats 300 times a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More people are killed each year from bees than from snakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The average lead pencil will draw a line 35 miles long or write approximately 50,000 English words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More people are allergic to cow's milk than any other food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Camels have three eyelids to protect themselves from blowing sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The placement of a donkey's eyes in its' heads enables it to see all four feet at all times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The six official languages of the United Nations are: English, French, Arabic, Chinese, Russian and Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Earth is the only planet not named after a god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's against the law to burp, or sneeze in a church in Nebraska, USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You're born with 300 bones, but by the time you become an adult, you only have 206.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Some worms will eat themselves if they can't find any food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dolphins sleep with one eye open!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It is impossible to sneeze with your eyes open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The worlds oldest piece of chewing gum is 9000 years old!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Queen Elizabeth I regarded herself as a paragon of cleanliness. She declared that she bathed once every three months, whether she needed it or not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slugs have 4 noses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Owls are the only birds who can see the colour blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A man named Charles Osborne had the hiccups for 69 years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A giraffe can clean its ears with its 21-inch tongue!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The average person laughs 10 times a day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6767745913663310043?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6767745913663310043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6767745913663310043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/50-facts-to-know.html' title='50 Facts to Know!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6739328958889623598</id><published>2007-09-19T09:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-19T09:56:17.491+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Embarrassing Situation</title><content type='html'>A very shy young man goes into a bar and sees a beautiful woman sitting alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an hour he gathers enough courage to go and ask her,&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Er... Excuse Me, But Would You Mind If I Sat Here Beside You?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She responds in a loud voice :&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No, I Don't Want To Spend The Night With You!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in the bar turns to stare at them. The young man is surprised, shocked and embarrassed and goes back to his table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes the woman walks over to him smiles, apologizes, and says, &lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You see, I'm a graduate student in psychology and I'm studying how people respond to embarrassing situations.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man responds loudly with,&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What Do You Mean Five Thousand Bucks. For One Night? ! Thats Too Much !&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6739328958889623598?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6739328958889623598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6739328958889623598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/embarrassing-situation.html' title='Embarrassing Situation'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-8767579576228669029</id><published>2007-09-19T09:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-19T09:13:34.616+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sand and Stone</title><content type='html'>This story tells of two friends walking through the desert. During some point of the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now, you write on a stone. Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other friend replied, "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand, where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. When someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone, where no wind can ever erase it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn to write your hurts in sand, and to carve your benefits in stone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-8767579576228669029?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8767579576228669029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/8767579576228669029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/sand-and-stone.html' title='Sand and Stone'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-636877019349266420</id><published>2007-09-18T16:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-18T16:45:58.313+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Medical Problem</title><content type='html'>An old woman came into her doctor's office and confessed to an embarrassing problem. "I fart all the time, Doctor Johnson, but they're soundless, and they have no odor. In fact, since I've been here, I've farted no less than twenty times. What can I do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's a prescription, Mrs. Harris. Take these pills three times a day for seven days and come back and see me in a week."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week an upset Mrs. Harris marched into Dr. Johnson's office. "Doctor, I don't know what was in those pills, but the problem is worse! I'm farting just as much, but now they smell terrible! What do you have to say for yourself?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Calm down, Mrs. Harris," said the doctor soothingly. "Now that we've fixed your sinuses, we'll work on your hearing!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-636877019349266420?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/636877019349266420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/636877019349266420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/medical-problem.html' title='A Medical Problem'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6038065238986464523</id><published>2007-09-14T09:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-14T09:56:52.591+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How to Catch a Lion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Newton's Method: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let, the lion catch you. For every action there is equal and opposite reaction. Implies you caught lion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Einstein Method: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run in the direction opposite to that of the lion. Due to higher relative velocity, the lion will also run faster and will get tired soon. Now you can trap it easily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Software Engineer Method: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch a cat and claim that your testing has proven that its a Lion. If anyone comes back with issues tell that you will upgrade it to Lion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian Police Method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Catch any animal and interrogate it &amp; torture it to accept that its a lion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Rajnikanth Method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Keep warning the lion that u may come and attack anytime. The lion will live in fear and die soon in fear itself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Jayalalitha Method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Send Police commissioner Muthukaruppan around 2AM and kill it, while it's sleeping ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Manirathnam Method (Director): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make sure the lion does not get sun light and put the lion in a dark room with a single candle lighted. Keep murmuring something in its ears. The lion will be highly irritated and commit suicide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Karan Johar Method (Director):&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Send a lioness into the forest. Our lion and lioness fall in love with each other. Send another lioness in to the forest, followed by another lion. First lion loves the first lioness and the second lion loves the 2nd lioness. But 2nd lioness loves both lions. Now send another lioness(third) into the forest. You don't understand right... ok....read it after 15 yrs, then also u wont ! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Yash Chopra method (Director): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the lion to Australia or US.. and kill it in a good scenic location. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Govinda method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Continuously dance before the lion for 5 or 6 days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Menaka Gandhi method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Save the lion from a danger and feed him with some vegetables continuously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;George bush method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Link the lion with osama bin laden and shoot him!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ravi Shastri method:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ask the lion to bowl at u. U bat for 200 balls and score 1 run .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6038065238986464523?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6038065238986464523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6038065238986464523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/how-to-catch-lion.html' title='How to Catch a Lion?'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4519369562056809301</id><published>2007-09-07T12:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-07T12:44:06.429+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Love Fridays</title><content type='html'>Water your plants, clear off your desk, and get out of the office a little early today. It has been a long week and you need to take in some fresh air. Fluorescent lights do not provide you with ample Vitamin D. You need sun light for that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you able to walk out of the office and leave the week behind? Can you accept the fact that all of the same problems that hit you in the face today will be there on Monday? So why ruin your weekend thinking about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You need to let go of any remaining stress and pull out of the parking garage or ride the train "work-free." That means you do whatever it takes to get work out of you head. Clear your mind from the corporate pollution of the week and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday is my favorite day of the week. It is not because I do not like what I do, hate working or anything like that. It is the day when I get to turn the office lights off for the week and start to focus on real life - my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4519369562056809301?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4519369562056809301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4519369562056809301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-love-fridays.html' title='I Love Fridays'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7458705275743719318</id><published>2007-09-02T19:00:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-09T19:02:10.894+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Old Carpenter</title><content type='html'>This is a story of an elderly carpenter who had been working for a contractor for many many  years. He had built many beautiful houses but now as he was getting old, he wanted to retire and lead a leisurely life with his family. So, he goes to the contractor and tells him about his plan of retiring. The contractor feels sad at the prospect of losing a good worker but agrees to the plan because the carpenter had indeed become too fragile for the tough building work. But as a last request, he asks the old carpenter to construct just one last house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man agrees and starts working but his heart was not in his work any more. He had lost the motivation towards work. So, he resorted to shoddy workmanship and constructed the house half-heartedly. After the house was built, the contractor handed over the front door keys to the carpenter and said, This is your new house. My gift to you. The carpenter was shocked and upset. Had he known that he was building his own house, he would have done a better job! Now, he would have to live in the house, which is not worth staying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of yourself as the carpenter. You work hard every day but are you giving your best? We put our least to the work we don't like or do not have interest in. Later, we get shocked at the situation we have created for ourselves and try to figure out why we didn't do it differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your tasks and carry on your responsibilities with pleasure and not with pain. Life is a do-it-yourself project. Do your job enthusiastically and with devotion, a positive output and a pleasing life will certainly be on your way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7458705275743719318?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7458705275743719318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7458705275743719318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/09/old-carpenter.html' title='The Old Carpenter'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2874661772565725831</id><published>2007-08-30T14:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-30T14:18:10.184+05:30</updated><title type='text'>IT Developers in Projects</title><content type='html'>Five cannibals (Man eaters) get appointed as programmers in an IT company. During the welcoming ceremony the boss says: "You're all part of our team now. You can earn good money here, and you can go to the company canteen for something to eat. So don't trouble the other employees". The cannibals promise not to trouble the other employees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four weeks later the boss returns and says: "You're all working very hard, and I'm very satisfied with all of you. One of our developers has disappeared however. Do any of you know what happened to her?" The cannibals disown all knowledge of the missing developer. After the boss has left, the leader of the cannibals says to the others: "Which of you idiots ate the developer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the cannibals raises his hand hesitantly, to which the leader of the cannibals says: "You FOOL! For four weeks we've been eating team leaders, managers, and project managers and no-one has noticed anything, and now YOU ate one developer and it got noticed. So hereafter please don't eat a person who is working."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2874661772565725831?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2874661772565725831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2874661772565725831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/08/it-developers-in-projects.html' title='IT Developers in Projects'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2977629091410622526</id><published>2007-08-23T09:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:06:38.201+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Rearrange Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="4" cellspacing="4" border="0" style="margin:0; padding:0;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Dormitory&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Dirty Room&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Presbyterian&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Best In Prayer&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Astronomer&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Moon Starer&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Desperation&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;A Rope Ends It&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;The Eyes&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;They See&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;George Bush&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;He Bugs Gore&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;The Morse Code&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Here Come Dots&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Slot Machines&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Cash Lost In Me&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Election Results&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Lies - Let's Recount&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;A Decimal Point&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Im A Dot In Place&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;The Earthquakes&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;That Queer Shake&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Eleven Plus Two&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Twelve Plus One&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right"&gt;Mother-in-law&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&amp;#187;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Woman Hitler&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2977629091410622526?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2977629091410622526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2977629091410622526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/08/rearrange-words.html' title='Rearrange Words'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7186569219422634865</id><published>2007-07-25T11:56:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:00:21.843+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Do Not Trust Women</title><content type='html'>A sexy woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub. She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately. She seductively signaled that he should bring his face closer to hers. As he did, she gently caressed his full beard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you the manager?" she asked, softly stroking his face with both hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Actually, no," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him," she said, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm afraid I can't," breathed the bartender. "Is there anything I can do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes. I need for you to give him a message," she continued, running her forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What should I tell him?" the bartender managed to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell him," she whispered, "there's no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies room!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7186569219422634865?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7186569219422634865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7186569219422634865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/07/do-not-trust-women.html' title='Do Not Trust Women'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-9170233422802360595</id><published>2007-07-18T10:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-07T12:56:01.979+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Impact of the Job Change</title><content type='html'>A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped few centimeters from a shop window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a second everything went quiet in the cab, and then the driver said: "Look mate, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passenger apologized and said, "I didn’t realize that a little tap would scare you so much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver replied, "Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver - I’ve been driving a van carrying dead Bodies for the last 25 years...!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-9170233422802360595?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/9170233422802360595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/9170233422802360595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2007/07/impact-of-job-change.html' title='Impact of the Job Change'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-6973097193400118452</id><published>2006-10-30T23:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-11T10:11:49.515+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Never Be Late</title><content type='html'>A Priest was being honoured at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation was chosen to make the presentation and to give a little speech at the dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, he was delayed, so the Priest decided to say his own few words while they waited:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here. I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place. The very first person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a television set and, when questioned by the police, was able to lie his way out of it. He had stolen money from his parents, embezzled from his employer, had an affair with his boss's wife, taken illegal drugs, and gave VD to his sister. I was appalled!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But as the days went on I learned that my people were not all like that and I had, indeed, come to a fine parish full of good and loving people!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as the Priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at being late. He immediately began to make the presentation and gave his talk:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never forget the first day our parish Priest arrived!" said the politician. "In fact, I had the honour of being the first person to go to him for confession!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-6973097193400118452?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6973097193400118452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/6973097193400118452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2006/10/never-be-late.html' title='Never Be Late'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-2972668599424177068</id><published>2006-09-06T12:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-26T12:25:36.554+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I hate Cats!</title><content type='html'>A man hated his wife's cat and he decided to get rid of it. He drove 20 blocks away from home and dropped the cat there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cat was already walking up the driveway when he approached his home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, he decided to drop the cat 40 blocks away but the same thing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept on increasing the number of blocks but the cat kept on coming home before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last he decided to drive a few miles away, turn right, then left, past the bridge, then right again and another right and so on until he reached what he thought was a perfect spot and dropped the cat there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours later, the man calls his wife at home and asked her, "Jen is the cat there?" "Yes, why do you ask?" answered the wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated, the man said, "Put that bloody cat on the phone, I'm lost and I need directions."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-2972668599424177068?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2972668599424177068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/2972668599424177068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-hate-cats.html' title='I hate Cats!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-4330916205373034040</id><published>2006-08-29T17:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-26T10:11:38.288+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sorry I Lied</title><content type='html'>Jenny was so happy about the house they had found. For once in her life that was on the right side of town. She unpacked her things with such great ease. As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze. How wonderful it was to have her own room. School would be starting, she would have friends over soon. There will be sleep-overs, and parties. She was so happy. It's just the way she wanted her life to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first day of school, everything went great. She made new friends and even got a date! She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be, because I just got a date with the star of the team!" To be known in this school you had to have a clout, and dating this guy would sure help her out. There was only one problem stopping her fate. Her parents had said she was too young to date. "Well I just won't tell them the entire truth. They won't know the difference. What's there to lose?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night. Her parents frowned but said, "All right." Excited, she got ready for the big event. But as she rushed around like she had no sense, she began to feel guilty about all the lies, but what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride? Well the pizza was good, and the party was great, and the moonlight ride would have to wait, for Jeff was half drunk by this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he kissed her and said that he was just fine. Then the room filled with smoked and Jeff took a puff. Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff. Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point, but only after he'd smoked another joint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride, not thinking that he was too drunk to drive. They finally made it to the point at last, and Jeff started trying to make a pass. A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all (and by a pass, I don't mean playing football.) "Perhaps my parents were right. Maybe I am too young. Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb?" With all of her might, she pushed Jeff away, "Please take me home, I don't want to stay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas. In a matter of seconds they were going too fast. As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger, Jenny knew that her life was in danger. She begged and pleaded for him to slow down, but he just got faster as they neared the town. "Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied. I really went out for a moonlight ride."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash. "Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!" She doesn't remember the force of impact. Just that everything all of a sudden went black. She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble, and heard, "Call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!" Voices she heard, a few words at best. But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right, and if the people in the other car was alive. She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad. "You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad." These voices echoed inside her head, as they gently told her that Jeff was dead. They said "Jenny, we've done all we can do. But it looks as if we'll lose you too." "But the people in the other car?" Jenny cried. "We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've done. I only wanted to have just one night of fun." "Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim, and wish I could return their families to them." "Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied, and that it's my fault so many have died. Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse just stood there. She never agreed. But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes. And a few moments later Jenny died. A man asked the nurse, "Why didn't you do your best to bid that girl her one last request?" She looked at the man with eyes so sad. "Because the people in the other car were her mom and dad."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-4330916205373034040?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4330916205373034040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/4330916205373034040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-sorry-i-lied.html' title='I&apos;m Sorry I Lied'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4650258971844788546.post-7479224864348555576</id><published>2005-08-26T09:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-25T10:42:29.943+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I, Think!</title><content type='html'>I can! And am thinking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well fellas!&lt;br /&gt;Yet another venture to think about things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd never claim the posts gonna come here will be mine! But I'll chime in with my things as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets, think things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Chris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4650258971844788546-7479224864348555576?l=things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7479224864348555576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4650258971844788546/posts/default/7479224864348555576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://things-vs-thinks.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-think.html' title='I, Think!'/><author><name>Chris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16186851272922412057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RsbDIZDKDq4/S43_s28_VFI/AAAAAAAACo0/DrP5CbDVYiE/S220/pic.php.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
