Too many hormones

A woman went to her doctor for a follow-up visit after the doctor had prescribed testosterone and human growth hormone for her. She was a little worried about some of the side effects she was experiencing.

“Doctor, the hormones you’ve been giving me have really helped, but I’m afraid that you’re giving me too much. I’ve started growing hair in places that I’ve never grown hair before.”

The doctor reassured her that “A little hair growth is a perfectly normal side effect of testosterone.” He went on to ask “Just where has this hair appeared?”

“On my balls…” she replied.

Yes, you are pregnant …

A woman went to the doctor’s office. She was seen by one of the new doctors, but after about four minutes in the examination room, she burst out, screaming as she ran down the hall. An older doctor stopped and asked her what the problem was, and she explained. He had her sit down and relax in another room.

The older doctor marched back to the first and demanded, “What’s the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you prescribed prenatal vitamins and told her she was PREGNANT?”

The new doctor smiled smugly as he continued to write on his clipboard.

“Cured her hiccups though, didn’t it?”

How God created the computer

In the beginning, God created the bit. And the bit was a zero; nothing.

On the first day, He toggled the 0 to 1, and the Universe was. (In those days, bootstrap loaders were simple, and “active low” signals didn’t yet exist.)

On the second day, God’s boss wanted a demo, and tried to read the bit. This being volatile memory, the bit reverted to a 0. And the universe wasn’t. God learned the importance of backups and memory refresh, and spent the rest of the day ( and his first all-nighter ) reconstructing the universe.

On the third day, the bit cried “Oh, Lord! If you exist, give me a sign!” And God created rev 2.0 of the bit, even better than the original prototype. Those in Universe Marketing immediately realized the the “new and improved” wouldn’t do justice to such a grand and glorious creation. And so it was dubbed the Most Significant Bit, or the Sign bit. Many bits followed, but only one was so honored.

On the fourth day, God created a simple ALU with ‘add’ and ‘logical shift’ instructions. And the original bit discovered that by performing a single shift instruction, it could become the Most Significant Bit. And God realized the importance of computer security.

On the fifth day, God created the first mid-life kicker, rev 2.0 of the ALU, with wonderful features, and said “Screw that add and shift stuff. Go forth and multiply.” And God saw that it was good.

On the sixth day, God got a bit overconfident, and invented pipelines, register hazards, optimizing compilers, crosstalk, restartable instructions, microinterrupts, business satellite internet, race conditions, and propagation delays. Historians have used this to convincingly argue that the sixth day must have been a Monday.

On the seventh day, an engineering change introduced Window Vista into the Universe, and it hasn’t worked right since.

Who saves ?

Jesus and Satan have an argument as to who is the better programmer. This goes on for a few hours until they agree to hold a contest with God as the judge.

They set themselves before their computers and begin. They type furiously for several lines of code streaming up the screen. Seconds before the end of the competition, a bolt of lightning strikes, taking out the electricity, killed the satellite network access and blew all the fuses.

Moments later, the power is restored, and God announces that the contest is over. He asks Satan to show what he had come up with. Satan is visibly upset, and cries, “I have nothing! I lost it all when the power went out.”

“Very well, then.” said God, “Let us see it Jesus fared any better.”

Jesus entered a command, and the screen came to life in vivid display, the voices of an angelic choir poured forth from the speakers.

Satan was astonished and stuttered, “But how? I lost everything, yet Jesus’ program is intact! How did he do it?”

God chuckled and replied, “Jesus saves.”

Excuses for missing a day of work

  • If it is all the same to you I won’t be coming in to work. The voices told me to clean all the guns today.
  • When I got up this morning I took two Ex-Lax in addition to my Prozac. I can’t get off the john, but I feel good about it.
  • I set half the clocks in my house ahead an hour and the other half back an hour Saturday and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum loop, reliving Sunday (right up until the explosion). I was able to exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly e * log(pi) clocks in the house while simultaneously rapping my dog on the snout with a rolled up Times. Accordingly, I will be in late, or early.
  • I can’t come in to work today because I’ll be stalking the boss from my last place of employment, who fired me for not showing up for work. OK?
  • I have a rare case of 48-hour projectile leprosy, but I know we have that deadline to meet…
  • I am stuck in the blood pressure machine down at the Food Giant.
  • Yes, I seem to have contracted some attention-deficit disorder and, hey, how about them Skins, huh? So, I won’t be able to, yes, could I help you? No, no, I’ll be sticking with Sprint, but thank you for calling.
  • Constipation has made me a walking time bomb.
  • I just found out that I was switched at birth. Legally, I shouldn’t come to work knowing my employee records may now contain false information.
  • The psychiatrist said it was an excellent session. He even gave me this jaw restraint so I won’t bite things when I am startled.
  • The dog ate my car keys. We’re going to hitchhike to the vet.
  • I prefer to remain an enigma.
  • My mother-in-law has come back as one of the Undead and we must track her to her coffin to drive a stake through her heart and give her eternal peace. One day should do it.
  • I am converting my calendar from Julian to Gregorian.
  • I can’t come to work today because the EPA has determined that my house is completely surrounded by wetlands and I have to arrange for helicopter transportation.
  • I am extremely sensitive to a rise in the interest rates.
  • I refuse to travel to my job in the District until there is a commuter tax. I insist on paying my fair share.

Waiting in a long line

The checkout line at the hardware store was getting longer and longer as the clerk labored to get the new cash register to cooperate.

At one point she wailed “Oh no, NOW what do I do ? It just rang up sixty-four thousand, five hundered seventy four dollars in sales tax on a ten-dollar sale !”

Suprisingly, the customers in front of me didn’t seem too upset by the delay. I wondered if they had some live video streaming services, or maybe someone entertaining the crowd.

Some even chuckled sympathetically. It wasn’t until I got near the front of the line that I saw the neatly hand-lettered sign in front of the register: WE ARE CURRENTLY DOING BATTLE WITH OUR NEW COMPUTER FOR CONTROL OF THE STORE—WE APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE.

Alice in Digital World

“Where am I?” asked Alice, as she peered at the large 7-lettered sign with the standard blue letters. “You’re in Digitaland,” replied the security guard, “May I see your badge?”

“I don’t have a badge.”

“Did you lose it?”

“No.” answered Alice in a puzzled tone. “How could I lose something I never had?”

“If it’s not lost then you must show it to me.”

“I can’t. I don’t have one.”

“Then you’ll have to have a temporary.”

“A temporary what?” asked Alice, more confused then ever.

“A temporary Badge. What’s your badge number?” requested the guard.

“I don’t have one”

“Of course not, Ken Olsen has 1. Give me your badge number, and your cost center”

“I’m so confused. I can’t do this. I’ve already said 3 times why. Do I have to tell you 4?”

“Ahhh. 3XY, badge number 4. You must be very important to have such a low badge number. I should have immediately recognized how low by your state of extreme confusion. Here’s your temporary. Go right on in.”

Alice pasted the sticky paper to her dress and headed down the hall. Not 10 feet ahead she saw a rather distressed looking rabbit coming toward her. He was dressed in a pair of torn, faded jeans, and a dirty tee shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked.

“I’m late! I’m late!” exclaimed the rabbit as he peered at the pert chart dangling from his pocket protector.

“Late for what?” asked Alice.

“My date. I’m going to miss my date. I’ve got a deadline to meet and I’m not going to make it.”

“Well, if it’s already dead, it probably won’t mind. In fact it isn’t likely to be going too far in such a state. I’m sure that however long you take will be just fine.”

“You obviously don’t understand. Everything takes longer than it really does. It doesn’t matter what you are doing, only that you meet your date, and that’s always impossible.”

“Well if its impossible, why would anyone expect you to meet it?” Almost at once regretting that she had asked. Was this going to be as confusing as badges?

“Its really very simple. In order to move forward, you need a goal. Any goal will do. It just has to be impossible to do. To motivate the troops, you have to make goals very challenging. Its really only there to get a stake in the ground, you know. After that we march in step until we reach our objective. The date really doesn’t mean anything. You simple have to understand that we are going to do the right thing.”

“But if the goal is impossible, and really doesn’t mean anything why are you trying to go there. Wouldn’t it be simpler to first figure out what you are really going to do, then figure out how to get there?”

“You obviously don’t understand the process. And as I said before I’m late so there is obviously only one thing to do.”

“Hurry up and rush off?” Alice asked, hoping it would sound more like a suggestion than a question.

“No. No. No. A meeting. Let find the Mad Manager and a number of involved, interested, or warm bodies.”

“That will obviously take a lot of time. I don’t think you have any to waste.

“No it won’t. All we have to do is find a conference room. There are lots of them right over here.”

“But,” started Alice, “those rooms are all full of people. Don’t we need an empty conference room?”

“Silly thought. If we want to find the Mad Manager and some meeting attendees, why would we look in an empty conference room? Anyway, it’s impossible to ever find an empty conference room.”

The rabbit took Alice by the hand, and promptly lead her into the largest, fullest conference room. Alice immediately noticed that the wastebasket was quite full of foam cups, and overhead projector bulbs. These people had obviously been here for a long time.

At the head of the table sat a man with a rather funny suit wearing a large hat.

“Why” whispered Alice to the rabbit, “is that man wearing that funny hat? Who is he?”

“I’m the Mad Manager,” answered the man at the end of the table, obviously overhearing the question, ” And I’ll be happy to tell you why I’m wearing this hat, but that topic is not on the agenda.”

“Why don’t we change the agenda?” asked a person in the corner.

“Is that a topic for another meeting?” replied the manager.

“Is what a topic for another meeting?” voiced a third. “The reason for the hat, or why we don’t change the agenda?”

“Why don’t we take this off line?” queried another.

“Does everyone agree that these are all topics we should address?” asked the mad manager.

“Possibly so. ” injected the person in the corner. “Could it be that we have a hidden agenda?”

“Oh no!” the Mad Manager began, the dismay obvious on his face, “someone has hidden the agenda again! Let me put on my process hat and we’ll see if we can work this issue.”

With that, he removed his rather amusing top hat, and place a big green fedora on his head.

“Now, with my process hat on, I’d like to address the issue of the hidden agenda. Since we can’t have a productive meeting without an agenda, it is up to all of us to find it.”

“But, ” a voice from the corner piped in, “who is going to drive this issue?”

“Do we have an action item here?” asked another attendee.

“Does anyone here want to work this?” asked the mad manager.

“Who originally brought this up?” asked another.

“I believe that the woman who came in with the rabbit proposed this. Shouldn’t she own it?”

“Well” the Manager stated, pointing to Alice. “I’d say that this is your issue.”

“What issue. I don’t have any issues. ” retorted Alice, nervously fingering her temporary badge. “I only posed a simple question.”

“I’m not sure we can accept that,” the manager declared. “We need a date.”

“But, ” Alice began, remembering what the rabbit told her about dates, “a date is impossible.”

From the back of the room another voice asked, “How about a date for a date?”

“The least we can ask is that you give us a date when you will be able to give us the date for the date.” stated the person in the corner.

“I’m not sure I can do that,” Alice opened, “since I don’t know what I’m supposed to give you a date for. I’m having a problem trying to figure out what you want me to do.”

“We don’t have any problems here, only opportunities!” Piped a chorus of voices.

“It’s really quite obvious,” the mad manager declared as he reached behind him for a striped blue and gray beret, “let me put on my Digital hat for a moment,” he continued doffing the fedora and flipping on his latest selection, “You must do the right thing.”

“Yes. yes. ” chimed the chorus of attendees, “Do the right thing.”

“Now, who is keeping the minutes?” the manager asked as he pitched the beret and placed the fedora back on his head. “We need to record this action item so we can come back to it later.”

“We obviously can’t deal with this issue until we can determine whose meeting this is?”

“Should we schedule some time to cover that topic?” asked one of the attendees.

“Who’s going to drive this?” asked another.

Just at the Mad Manager was pulling out a rather worn pith helmet, a voice in the back suggested “Let’s take a break and work some of this 1×1 off line”

Being closest to the door Alice was the first to leave. She quickly dashed down the hall, and ran up the first flight of stairs she encountered, relieved to be free of the madness.

When she opened the door the scene that confronted her made her wonder if returning to the meeting wasn’t a bad idea. Seated around a large oval table were what appeared to be playing cards, each dressed in a gray or navy blue three piece suit. Around each neck was a rather oddly shaped handle (or were they nooses?) made of silk, or polyester.

“Off with her head!” screamed the queen of hearts who was sitting at the head of the table. Alice noticed that her tie was silk, and each card seated near her was dressed in a suit and noose combination similar to the queen’s.

“Why would you want to remove my head?” Alice asked. By now she was feeling beyond confused.

“It’s not a modern, iconic, user friendly, menu driven, color, PC compatible user interface,” replied the queen, in a tone that would need to come up two notches to be vaguely considered condescending.

“It happens to suit me just fine,” retorted Alice.

“What are you an engineer or something?” asked the 7 of spades.

“No, I’m Alice. Who are you?”

“Marketing.” they replied in perfect fifty-two part harmony.

“And what is that?” asked Alice.

There was a brief interlude of silence as each of the cards fidgeted with their ties, checked their watches and scribbled notes on the pads of paper contained in a handsome genuine imitation leather folder embossed with the company logo. Then one by one, as dominoes would do, they turned to the person on the left until they all stared at the queen of hearts.

The queen cleared her throat, adjusted her tie a second time and stared directly at Alice. “We provide the strategic thinking necessary to grow the business and sometimes sell them on live satellite webcasts.”

“Oh,” said Alice, “you figure out what products to build!”

“Heavens, no!” exclaimed the Queen, “That’s too tactical. We feel its our job to develop the vision for the long term.”

“You develop things,” began Alice, “so you build the products?”

In unison each member of the table made a face reminiscent of the look a small child gets upon tasting spoiled dead roaches for the first time.

“Uggggh, that’s even more tactical,” jeered the chorus.

“No! No!” shouted the Queen. “You still do not understand. We take the pulse of the key market leaders demand curve.”

“I see now.” said Alice, “You sell the products.”

By now the chorus of cards chanting “Tac-ti-cal! Tac-ti-cal!” was becoming too much.

The queen was furious and repeated her original greeting. “Off with her head! Off With her head”

“WAIT!” demanded Alice. “I believe I understand. You are all responsible for driving the solution opportunities for the key client supply perceptions through strategic vision management!”

Alice wondered if she should add something about the claws catching, and frumious bandersnatches and thought that she’d best leave it at that before she became ill.

“Yes,” screamed the cards, “That’s exactly right!”

“And how, might I ask, do you accomplish these lofty and important goals?”

“By calling a BOD,” the queen responded.

“And what, pray tell, might that be?” inquired Alice as she looked for the quickest escape route, hoping that this jabber would keep her head attached long enough to get out.

“A Board of Directors”, began the queen, just as Alice noticed the door to the left of the table. “Its a type of high level meeting.”

“A meeting????!!!!” exclaimed Alice. “Not another meeting!” With that she bolted for the door, no longer fearing for her head. Her only hope was that she make it through before the agenda hit the overhead. In a dead run, she passed through the door just as the projector lamp flicked on. The sound of the fan was the last sound to fade as the door closed.

Breathlessly she looked up to see a large open area. Directly in front of her was an enclosed area lined on one side with triple chrome table. A stack of plastic trays was at the foyer.

As she wandered through an assortment of sandwiches, prepared foods, soft drinks and salad began their daily spiel. “Eat Me! Drink Me! Eat Me!”

“Oh no,” answered Alice, “I may know nothing about dates, and problems and meetings and agendas, and marketing and badges, but I do know food. I’m not gonna touch any of you. After the morning I’ve had I deserve a nice cheese steak (no lettuce)!”

With that, Alice opened the nearest exit door and left. A resounding high pitched whine sang its midday good-byes as Alice returned to the real world.

Garbage Man

A father is asked by his friend, “Has your son decided what he wants to be when he grows up?”

“Yes, he wants to be a garbage collector,” he replies.

To this his friend responds, “Strange ambition to have for a career.”

The boy’s father replied, “Well, he thinks that garbage collectors only work on Tuesdays and can build a car from all the Ferrari parts people chuck out!”

The Assassin

A few months ago, there was an opening with the CIA for an assassin. These highly classified positions are hard to fill, and there’s a lot of testing and background checks involved before you can even be considered for the position. After sending some applicants through the background checks, training and testing, they narrowed the possible choices down to 3 men, but only one position was available.

The day came for the final test to see which man would get the extremely secretive job. The CIA men administering the test took one of the men, dressed in hip hop clothes, to a large metal door and handed him a gun. “We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances,” they explained. “Inside this room, you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Take this gun and kill her.”

The man got a shocked look on his face and said “You can’t be serious! I could never shoot my own wife!” “Well”, says the CIA man, “you’re definitely not the right man for this job then.” So they bring the second man to the same door and hand him a gun. “We must know that you will follow instructions no matter what the circumstances,” they explained to the second man, “Inside you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Take this gun and kill her.”

The second man looked a bit shocked, but nevertheless took the gun and went in the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes, then the door opened. The man came out of the room with tears in his eyes. “I tried to shoot her, I just couldn’t pull the trigger and shoot my wife. I guess I’m not the right man for the job.” “No,” the CIA man replied, “You don’t have what it takes. Take your wife and go the hell home.”

Now they’re down to one man left to test. Again they lead him to the same door to the same room and hand him the same gun. “We must be sure that you will follow instructions no matter what the circumstances. This is your final test. Inside you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Take this gun and kill her.” The third man took the gun and opened the door. Before the door even closed all the way, the CIA man heard the gun start firing. One shot after another for 13 shots. Then all hell broke loose in the room. They heard screaming, crashing, and banging on the walls.

This went on for several minutes, then all went quiet. The door opened slowly, and there stood the third man. He wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “You guys didn’t tell me the gun was loaded with blanks! I had to beat the bitch to death with the freaking chair!”

Shopkeeper joke

After refurbishing one of his entertainment centers, a commercial property owner has three shops in a row, all for rent. The first prospective lessee shows up, and says he wants to let the shop on the left. The owner says, “Fine, what kind of shop do you have?” The guy says, “A men’s wear shop.”

The owner tells him he gets free signage, and asks what he wants on the sign. “Men’s wear,” says the man.

A second guy comes along and wants to let the right hand shop. When asked, he says he wants “Men’s wear” on his sign. The owner tells him that the left-hand shop will be the same. “No problem,” says the man.

Finally a third man comes along to let the middle shop. The owner is most concerned because this guy also has a men’s wear shop. Rather wearily the owner asks him what he wants on his sign. The guy replies, “Entrance.”