Click here for YouTubes's Folger's Happy Morning Commercial
Posted on 07/21/2006 12:04:46 AM PDT by sully777
LOL
Aw, very cute. :)
Hotter than Hades here in Vegas.
Hung Chow calls into work and says, "Hey, I no come work today, I really sick. Got headache, stomach ache and legs hurt, I no come work."
The boss says, "You know something, Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this, I go to my wife and tell her I want sex.
That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that."
Two hours later Hung Chow calls again. "I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon......... You got nice house."
78 Ways to know if you drink too much coffee...
You answer the door before people knock.
Juan Valdez named his donkey after you.
The only kitchen appliances you own are made by Mr. Coffee.
You ski uphill.
You get a tax cut for all the coffee you bought.
You get a speeding ticket even when you're parked.
You speed walk in your sleep.
You have a bumper sticker that says: "Coffee drinkers are good in the sack."
You haven't blinked since the last lunar eclipse.
You just completed another sweater and you don't know how to knit.
You grind your coffee beans in your mouth.
The nurse needs a scientific calculator to take your pulse.
You sleep with your eyes open.
When you open your dish cabinet, and there is only mugs.
You have to watch videos in fast-forward.
The only time you're standing still is during an earthquake.
You can take a picture of yourself from ten feet away without using the timer.
You lick your coffeepot clean.
You spend every vacation visiting "Maxwell House."
You're the employee of the month at the local coffeehouse and you don't even work there.
You've worn out your third pair of tennis shoes this week.
Your eyes stay open when you sneeze.
Your coffee cake, must have coffee in it.
You chew on other people's fingernails.
Your T-shirt says, "Decaffeinated coffee is the devil's blend."
You're so jittery that people use your hands to blend their margaritas.
You can type sixty words per minute... with your feet.
The only gift you get for Valentines Day you get chocolate covered beans.
You can jump-start your car without cables.
All your kids are named "Joe".
Your only source of nutrition comes from "Sweet & Low."
You don't sweat, you percolate.
You buy 1/2 & 1/2 by the barrel.
You've worn out the handle on your favorite mug.
You go to AA meetings just for the free coffee.
You walk twenty miles on your treadmill before you realize it's not plugged in.
You forget to unwrap candy bars before eating them.
Charles Manson thinks you need to calm down.
Every shirt or blouse you own has a coffee stain on it.
You've built a miniature city out of little plastic stirrers.
People get dizzy just watching you.
You've worn the finish off your coffee table.
The Taster's Choice couple wants to adopt you.
Starbucks owns the mortgage on your house.
You're so wired, you pick up AM radio and people test their batteries in your ears.
Your life's goal is to amount to a hill of beans.
Instant coffee takes too long.
When someone says. "How are you?", you say, "Good to the last drop."
You want to be cremated just so you can spend the rest of eternity in a coffee can.
You want to come back as a coffee mug in your next life.
Your birthday is a national holiday in Brazil.
Your hand is permanently shaped to hold your mug.
You'd be willing to spend time in a Turkish prison.
You go to sleep just so you can wake up and smell the coffee.
You're offended when people use the word "brew" to mean beer.
You name your cats "Cream" and "Sugar."
You get drunk just so you can sober up.
You speak perfect Arabic without ever taking a lesson.
Your lips are permanently stuck in the sipping position.
You have a picture of your coffee mug on your coffee mug.
You can outlast the Energizer bunny.
You can jump to the moon.
You short out motion detectors.
You have a conniption over spilled milk.
You don't even wait for the water to boil anymore.
Your nervous twitch registers on the Richter scale.
You think being called a "drip" is a compliment.
You don't tan, you roast.
You don't get mad, you get steamed.
Your three favorite things in life are...coffee before, coffee during and coffee after.
Your lover uses soft lights, romantic music, and a glass of iced coffee to get you in the mood.
You can't even remember your second cup.
You help your dog chase its tail.
You soak your dentures in coffee overnight.
Your coffee mug is insured by Lloyds of London.
You introduce your spouse as your coffeemate.
You think CPR stands for "Coffee Provides Resuscitation."
Your first-aid kit contains two pints of coffee with an I.V. hookup.
Shouldn't the mic be other the other side??
How about 98 degrees and 98% humidity? With high chance of thundershowers this afternoon. That's what we have in Norfolk, air you can wear.
True true true.
I feel for ya...I think we're gonna hit 107 today, and around 110 over the weekend. Keep cool! ;)
What, I don't rate a Starbuck's ping?!
"Morning EX, we're still baking in the heat here in Oklahoma."
Luckily, tomorrow's high is supposed to be 88 in T-Town. Much better than 108 for today, Eh?
Dear Senator Sarbanes,
As a native Marylander and excellent customer of the
Internal Revenue Service, I am writing to ask for your
assistance. I have contacted the Immigration and
Naturalization Service in an effort to determine the
process for becoming an illegal alien and they referred me
to you.
My reasons for wishing to change my status from U.S.
Citizen to illegal alien stem from the bill which was
recently passed by the Senate and for which you voted. If
my understanding of this bill's provisions is accurate, as
an illegal alien who has been in the United States for
five years, what I need to do to become a citizen is to
pay a $2,000 fine and income taxes for three of the last
five years.
I know a good deal when I see one and I am anxious to get
the process started before everyone figures it out.
Simply put, those of us who have been here legally have
had to pay taxes every year so I'm excited about the
prospect of avoiding two years of taxes in return for
paying a $2,000 fine. Is there any way that I can apply to
be illegal retroactively? This would yield an excellent
result for me and my family because we paid heavy taxes in
2004 and 2005.
Another benefit in gaining illegal status would be that my
daughter would receive preferential treatment relative to
her law school applications.
If you would provide me with an outline of the process to
become illegal (retroactively if possible) and copies of
the necessary forms, I would be most appreciative. Thank
you for your assistance.
Your Loyal Constituent,
Pete McGlaughlin
Isn't 98% humidity called RAIN??
REUNION OF A 62 YEAR OLD LADY
I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would. I went on a starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight would just melt off in 24-hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim, high-school-girl body. The last forty years of careful cellulite collection would just be gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday.
Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag, carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed, and thought, "Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back..." bodies never have pockets where you need them. Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering dress and stepped gingerly into it I struggled, twisted, turned, and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees... before the zipper gave out. I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that dress with those silver sandals again and dance the night away. Okay, one setback was not going to spoil my mood for this affair. No way!
Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the corner, I turned to Plan B: the black crepe caftan. I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at Saks: the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo & conditioner, and the split-end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads. Then the makeup --the under eye "ain't no lines here" firming cream, the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle filler spackle; the all day "kiss me till my lips bleed, and see if this gloss will come off" lipstick, the bronzing face powder for that special glow. But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear. OK, time to get ready!
I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped, lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed and scoured my body to a tingling pink. I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with the anti-wrinkle, gravity fighting, "your face will look like a baby's posterior" face cream. I set my hair on hot rollers. I felt wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my underwear. With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body, I pulled out the black lace, tummy-tucking, cellulite-pushing, hamhock-rounding girdle, and the matching "lifting those bosoms like
they're filled with helium bra." I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted, shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar crawled and kicked. Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done. And it didn't look bad.
So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, "Rubber baby buggy bumper buns?" Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't move from my buns to my knees. But I was firm! Oh no...I had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch. From now on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past experiments was still fresh in my mind. I quickly sidestepped to the
bathroom.
An hour later, I had answered nature's call and repeated the struggle into the girdle. I was ready for the bra. I remembered what the saleslady said to do I could see her glossed lips mouthing, "Do not fasten the bra in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should be worn--straps over the shoulders. Then bend over and gently place both breasts inside the cups." Easy if you have four hands. But, with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first would slip out. I needed a strategy. I bounced up and down a few times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands. Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination. Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror, turning front, and then sideways. I smiled. Yes, Houston, we have lift up! My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest. And I couldn't see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Oh...why did I buy heels with buckles? Then I had to pee again.
I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped the reunion.
IF THIS DID NOT GIVE YOU A GOOD LAUGH - YOU'RE TOO YOUNG!
So true. I hear from Trav there's rain tomorrow. NO WICKED WEATHER!
Cruising on smack is very chic nowadays. A little China White, and everything's alright.
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