June 4th, 2002

Ceci n'est pas une personne.

(no subject)

Don't talk to strangers:

So I left Montreal driving toward Quebec city, when I decided to stop at a rest station. When I entered the rest room the first stall was occupied, so I went into the second one. I was no sooner seated than I heard a voice from the next stall:

"Hi, how are you doing?"

Well, I am not the type to chat with strangers in highway comfort stations, and I really don't know quite what possessed me, but anyway, I answered, a little embarrassed:

"Not bad."

And the stranger said: "And, what are you up to?"

Talk about your dumb questions! I was really beginning to think this was too weird! So I said:

"Well, just like you I'm driving east."

Then, I heard the stranger, all upset, say, "Look, I'll call you back, there's some idiot in the next stall answering all the questions I am asking you."
Ceci n'est pas une personne.

(no subject)

I can't help these jokes. It's a heireditory illness. My Dad sends me these jokes.


After a long night of love making, the guy rolled over, and was looking around when he noticed a framed picture of a man on her dresser.

Naturally, the guy began to worry. "Is this your husband?" he inquired nervously. "No, silly," she replied, snuggling up to him.

"Your boyfriend then?" he asked.

"No, not at all," she said, nibbling away at his ear.

"Well, who is he then?" demanded the bewildered guy.

Calmly, the girl replied, "That's me before the surgery."