TheHNIC's blog: "Funny Stuff"

A woman got revenge on her cheating boyfriend by hijacking his MySpace page. Sam Deakin found out Matt East, 25, was having an affair with one woman and trying to date another 20. So she changed the welcome note on his page to say: "I'm a pathological liar. I cheat regularly." She then mimicked the Mastercard TV commercial, reports the Sun. She wrote: "Dinner in a posh restaurant...$100. Night in a top hotel...$200. Finding out your boyfriend is a lying scumbag and changing his MySpace page so everyone can see...PRICELESS." She changed his password so he couldn't hack in and alter what she had done. The site received more than 250,000 hits in five days with women slagging off Matt as a "total loser". Mum-of-two Sam, a website designer from Bournemouth, Dorset, said: "I wanted to show him up for who he is." Sam revealed he asked one girl: "You, me, handcuffs, whipped-cream. How about it?" The site has been closed by MySpace. Matt, of Bournemouth, said: "I admit I cheated. I'm just a man."

Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies: 1. "Take it easy, Doc You're boldly going where no man has gone before!" 2. "Find Amelia Earhart yet?" 3. "Can you hear me NOW?" 4. "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" 5. "You know, in Arkansas, we're now legally married." 6. "Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?" 7. "You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out.." 8. "Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!" 9. "If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!" 10. "Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity." 11. "You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?" 12. "God, now I know why I am not gay." And the best one of all... 13. "Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up here?"

A young boy went up to his father and asked him, "Dad, what is the difference between 'potentially' and 'realistically'?" The father thought for a moment, then answered, "Go ask your mother if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Then ask your sister if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars, and then, ask your brother if he'd sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Come back and tell me what you learn from that." So the boy went to his mother and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?" The mother replied, "Of course, I would! We could really use that money to fix up the house and send you kids to a great university!" The boy then went to his sister and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?" The girl replied, "Oh good heavens! I LOVE Brad Pitt and I would sleep with him in a heartbeat. Are you nuts?" The boy then went to his brother and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?" "Of course," the brother replied. "Do you know how much a million bucks would buy?" The boy pondered the answers for a few days and then went back to his dad. His father asked him, "Did you find out the difference between 'potentially' and 'realistically'?" The boy replied: "Yes. 'Potentially,' you and I are sitting on three million dollars, but 'realistically,' we're living with two hookers and a future congressman.

I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart. FOR EXAMPLE: One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed. Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me." I said, "WHAT??!! What was that?!" So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear... "You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man." She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?" Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep. The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, "Lets get a pair for each outfit." We went on to the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you... she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier." I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it." Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, "WHAT?" I then said, "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?" Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either....but at least that bitch knows I'm smarter than her.

A Marine gets out of the Corps after Nam and lives his life like the American dream. When the War on Iraq comes around 40 plus years later, he goes down to the local recruiting station, and tells the recruiter, "I want in, I wanna fight." But the recruiter says, "Sorry man, you're too old." "Fine," the guy says. "I'll go to the Pentagon. I have a friend there. He'll let me in!" So he goes to the Pentagon and tells his friend, "I want in, I wanna fight." But his friend says, "Sorry Buddy, you're too old." "Fine," the guy says. "I'll buy a boat and row to Iraq!" So he goes out and buys himself a rowboat and starts rowing to Iraq, chanting "Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!" over and over again. St. Peter sees all this and goes to God and says, "Lord, what do I do to stop this clown?" God tells St. Peter, "Why don't you take his brain? It's the root of all thought." So St. Peter takes the guy's brain. It doesn't faze him. "Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!" St. Peter then says, "Now what?!" God replies, "Why don't you take his heart? It's the seat of all emotion." So St. Peter takes it. Doesn't faze the guy. "Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!" St. Peter says, "Now what should I do?!" God smiles and says, "Take his gonads." So St. Peter lops off the guy's gonads. The guy immediately stops rowing, looks confused, turns his boat around in circles, and begins chanting, "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder..."

Dear Connie, I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our "cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, Connie." I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I'd tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then It hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do reminds me of you. Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant till later, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can't help thinking, "Why didn't Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? we've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy." Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is. So we're doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don't you think we could start over? Just wipe all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Otherwise, can you let me know where the fu***ing remote is.???? Love, Paul