(1) CANADIAN JOKES
Canadian, eh!
CANADIAN JOKE # 1
After the North American Beer Festival, all the brewery presidents decided to go out for a beer. The guy from Corona sits down and says, 'Hey Senor, I would like the world's best beer, a Corona .' The bartender dusts off a bottle from the shelf and gives it to him.
CANADIAN JOKE # 1
After the North American Beer Festival, all the brewery presidents decided to go out for a beer. The guy from Corona sits down and says, 'Hey Senor, I would like the world's best beer, a Corona .' The bartender dusts off a bottle from the shelf and gives it to him.
The guy from Budweiser says, 'I'd like the best beer in the
world, give me 'The King Of Beers', a Budweiser.' The bartender gives him one.
The guy from Coors says, 'I'd like the only beer made with
Rocky Mountain
spring water, give me a Coors.' He gets it.
spring water, give me a Coors.' He gets it.
The guy from Molson Canadian sits down and says, 'Give me a
Coke.'
The bartender is a little taken aback, but gives him what he
ordered.
The other brewery presidents look over at him and ask, ‘Why
aren't you drinking a Molson's?'
The Molson Canadian president replies, 'Well, I figured if
you guys aren't drinking beer, neither would I.'
CANADIAN JOKE #2
A Canadian is walking down the street with a case of beer
under his arm.
His friend Doug stops him and asks, 'Hey Bob! Whacha get the
case of beer for?'
'I got it for my wife, eh.' answers Bob.
'Oh!' exclaims Doug, 'Good trade.'
'I got it for my wife, eh.' answers Bob.
'Oh!' exclaims Doug, 'Good trade.'
CANADIAN JOKE #3
An Ontarian wanted to become a Newfie. He went to the neurosurgeon and
asked, 'Is there anything you can do to me that would make me into a Newfie?'
An Ontarian wanted to become a Newfie. He went to the neurosurgeon and
asked, 'Is there anything you can do to me that would make me into a Newfie?'
'Sure it's easy,' replied the neurosurgeon. 'All I have to
do is cut out 1/3
of your brain, and you'll be a Newfie.'
He was very pleased, and immediately underwent the operation. However, the neurosurgeon's knife slipped, and instead of cutting 1/3 of the patient's brain, the surgeon accidentally cut out 2/3 of the patient's brain.
of your brain, and you'll be a Newfie.'
He was very pleased, and immediately underwent the operation. However, the neurosurgeon's knife slipped, and instead of cutting 1/3 of the patient's brain, the surgeon accidentally cut out 2/3 of the patient's brain.
He was terribly remorseful, and waited impatiently beside
the patient's bed
as the patient recovered from the anesthetic. As soon as the patient was
conscious, the neurosurgeon said to him, 'I'm terribly sorry, but there was a
ghastly accident. Instead of cutting out 1/3 of your brain, I accidentally cut
out 2/3 of your brain.'
as the patient recovered from the anesthetic. As soon as the patient was
conscious, the neurosurgeon said to him, 'I'm terribly sorry, but there was a
ghastly accident. Instead of cutting out 1/3 of your brain, I accidentally cut
out 2/3 of your brain.'
The patient replied, 'Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit,
monsieur?'
CANADIAN JOKE #4
Did you hear about the war between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia ?
The Newfies were lobbing hand grenades; the Nova Scotians were pulling the pins and throwing them back.
CANADIAN JOKE #5
In Canada, we have two seasons... six months of winter and six months of poor snowmobiling.
In Canada, we have two seasons... six months of winter and six months of poor snowmobiling.
CANADIAN JOKE #6
One day an Englishman, an American, and a Canadian walked into a pub
together. They proceeded to each buy a pint of Labatt Blue. Just as they were about to enjoy their beverages, three flies landed in their pints.
The Englishman pushed his beer away from him in disgust. The American fished the offending fly out of his beer and continued drinking it as if nothing happened.
The Canadian picked the fly out of his drink and started shaking it over the
pint, yelling, 'SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT, YOU BASTARD!!!'
Rumor has it that the Canadian was of Scottish descent.
One day an Englishman, an American, and a Canadian walked into a pub
together. They proceeded to each buy a pint of Labatt Blue. Just as they were about to enjoy their beverages, three flies landed in their pints.
The Englishman pushed his beer away from him in disgust. The American fished the offending fly out of his beer and continued drinking it as if nothing happened.
The Canadian picked the fly out of his drink and started shaking it over the
pint, yelling, 'SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT, YOU BASTARD!!!'
Rumor has it that the Canadian was of Scottish descent.
CANADIAN JOKE #7
A Quebecer, staying in a hotel in Edmonton phoned room service for some pepper. 'Black pepper, or white pepper?' asked the concierge. 'Toilette pepper!' yelled the Quebecer.
Send these on to all of your Canadian friends to give them all a good
laugh ... EH?!
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(2) THE HUMOUR OF GETTING OLD.
I take the position that getting old is quite an enigma. But, I am also of the
opinion that there is a whole lot of humour in ageing.
There are days when the sun shines warmly through your promising day giving you a lift and then suddenly, the next day, it seems as though you are sitting on the sun itself. Everything about your day goes woefully wrong. You get up in the morning barely and find that the small of your back has been battered by the ‘back fairy’ who probably used your back as a trampoline all night.
When you finally get to your feet which you are not sure are there, each painful step seems to remind you that your brain does not appreciate the steps you are taking. You finally make it to the rest-room only to discover that the zipper is stuck and you have to go urgently. You are left with one of two choices; either mess up your pants or tear open the zipper. When done with this no brainer, you discover that the toilet roll is not generous anymore.
There are only two pieces left. You struggle your way to the storage area in a sitting position using what is left of the paper as security and return to the toilet with a brand new toilet roll and with a sense of awkward achievement. You then creep into the slippery tub to have a shower, soap yourself ambitiously and suddenly discover that the water stops flowing.
There is soap in your eyes so it becomes perilous to
step out of the tub. When you are about to utter some choice words about the
ghastly efficiency of the municipality, the water suddenly starts pumping out
with more enthusiasm than before except that this time you have ice-cold
water which gives you goose bumps all over your body.
However, you are now wide awake and make your way to the bedroom. The bed needs to be made up and somehow the constant flipping of the bed sheet to cover the bed before attempting to tuck it in the corners refuses to spread evenly on the bed. This means that one has to negotiate all the corners to spread the stubborn sheet in place. While in the process you bang your knee against one of the corners of the bed and you feel as though your knee has broken into a million small pieces. You bend over to cushion the pain and pull a muscle in the groin area. A few four letter words that mean nothing to the bed or the knee provides some relief.
You make your way to the computer only to discover that you have forgotten the password that will enable you to get into your computer. You try a few hundred possible words but they do not work. You leave the computer for another time; walk down the stairs and when you are half way down you remember the password and keep repeating it over and over again while you work your way up the stairs to the computer. It works. Of course, I am soon made aware that the whole world has forgotten me in my old age and don’t expect that anybody would be sending me those naughty emails that I used to receive way back in history that would at least put a smile on my face. Now I have to be content with receiving persuasive emails to buy Viagra or enlarge certain vital organs which, somehow still manages to put a smile on my face anyway.
The telephone rings but then I have to make my way downstairs. It is the only phone that works. I laboriously work my way down the steps and just before picking up the phone, it stops ringing. I have no call waiting to phone back since it is a cost saving effort on my part and I hope that it was a crank call anyway. Somehow crank calls seem to be more than welcome since they inform me that I am still in contact with the outside world no matter how deviant it might be. I particularly like those ‘survey calls’ since it gives me an opportunity of giving the interviewer all the wrong answers.
Before I know it the door bell rings. Now that is a novel experience. Nobody visits me so early in the morning. I open the door and there stands two well dressed individuals from the Jehovah Witness attempting to save my soul. I do not invite them into the house because they could very well be imposters. I inform them with faked conviction that I am an atheist and that I have no intention of changing my religion or may wayward ways. They try to convince me that I am on the wrong path but I do not argue with them for fear that they might win the argument. I then do the next best thing which is to bid them goodbye and inform them that my next door neighbour who has always been unfriendly, needed a lot of spiritual help.
Finally, it is breakfast time. My porridge is burnt since I spent far too much of time with the J.W. My toast looks as though it is a piece of coal. I guess that it has to be done all over again, but this time I assure myself that I would not be distracted from the task before me.
water which gives you goose bumps all over your body.
However, you are now wide awake and make your way to the bedroom. The bed needs to be made up and somehow the constant flipping of the bed sheet to cover the bed before attempting to tuck it in the corners refuses to spread evenly on the bed. This means that one has to negotiate all the corners to spread the stubborn sheet in place. While in the process you bang your knee against one of the corners of the bed and you feel as though your knee has broken into a million small pieces. You bend over to cushion the pain and pull a muscle in the groin area. A few four letter words that mean nothing to the bed or the knee provides some relief.
You make your way to the computer only to discover that you have forgotten the password that will enable you to get into your computer. You try a few hundred possible words but they do not work. You leave the computer for another time; walk down the stairs and when you are half way down you remember the password and keep repeating it over and over again while you work your way up the stairs to the computer. It works. Of course, I am soon made aware that the whole world has forgotten me in my old age and don’t expect that anybody would be sending me those naughty emails that I used to receive way back in history that would at least put a smile on my face. Now I have to be content with receiving persuasive emails to buy Viagra or enlarge certain vital organs which, somehow still manages to put a smile on my face anyway.
The telephone rings but then I have to make my way downstairs. It is the only phone that works. I laboriously work my way down the steps and just before picking up the phone, it stops ringing. I have no call waiting to phone back since it is a cost saving effort on my part and I hope that it was a crank call anyway. Somehow crank calls seem to be more than welcome since they inform me that I am still in contact with the outside world no matter how deviant it might be. I particularly like those ‘survey calls’ since it gives me an opportunity of giving the interviewer all the wrong answers.
Before I know it the door bell rings. Now that is a novel experience. Nobody visits me so early in the morning. I open the door and there stands two well dressed individuals from the Jehovah Witness attempting to save my soul. I do not invite them into the house because they could very well be imposters. I inform them with faked conviction that I am an atheist and that I have no intention of changing my religion or may wayward ways. They try to convince me that I am on the wrong path but I do not argue with them for fear that they might win the argument. I then do the next best thing which is to bid them goodbye and inform them that my next door neighbour who has always been unfriendly, needed a lot of spiritual help.
Finally, it is breakfast time. My porridge is burnt since I spent far too much of time with the J.W. My toast looks as though it is a piece of coal. I guess that it has to be done all over again, but this time I assure myself that I would not be distracted from the task before me.
I pick up the newspaper but most of the stuff appeared on TV in the late news the night before. In any event the newspaper is useful for lining the bird’s cage and Kiki the sparrow is always the best critic of the news and illustrates this in concrete ways. Unfortunately I have to clean up his criticism every other day.
Have you ever wondered why when you drop anything into the garbage bin in the kitchen it invariably lands on the floor just next to the bin? Does it have anything to do with one’s poor aim as one gets older? Of the ten or so shots at the garbage bin nine of them invariably land outside. I sometimes think that this condition is spiritually motivated for it is the only time that I do any bending and have now come to view this as exercise. It certainly has nothing to do with my eye glasses or my state of health. Sometimes I am tempted to believe that it might be evil spirits that are trying to give me a hard time.
I finally sit down to relax after all the exertion only to discover that I have
sat on my glasses. I laugh my head off and wonder what is in store for me for the rest of the day.
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