<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117</id><updated>2008-05-16T17:58:41.539+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Jokes Daily - Joke Diary</title><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/index.htm'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default'/><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>826</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-1321958402425266562</id><published>2008-05-15T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T17:58:41.572+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Death</title><summary type='text'>Attila the Hun:

One of the most notorious villains in history, Attila's army had conquered all of Asia by 450 AD--from Mongolia to the edge of the Russian Empire--by destroying villages and pillaging the countryside.

How he died: He got a nosebleed on his wedding night

In 453 AD, Attila married a young girl named Ildico. Despite his reputation for ferocity on the battlefield, he tended to eat </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/weird-death.html' title='Weird Death'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=1321958402425266562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1321958402425266562'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1321958402425266562'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-4485745740897556535</id><published>2008-05-14T23:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T17:45:29.331+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenthood: Changes with Each Baby</title><summary type='text'>Yes, parenthood changes everything. But parenthood also changes with each baby. Here, some of the ways having a second and third child differs from having your first:

Your Clothes
-1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
-2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
-3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/parenthood-changes-with-each-baby.html' title='Parenthood: Changes with Each Baby'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=4485745740897556535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/4485745740897556535'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/4485745740897556535'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-4764444010890436728</id><published>2008-05-13T23:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T10:01:14.845+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not Sterile</title><summary type='text'>A doctor had just delivered twins...a boy and a girl. The head nurse brought them out for their father to see. He could hardly believe his good fortune. As he started to touch them the nurse took a step backwards and said, "You can't touch those babies. You aren't sterile!" With out missing a beat, he said proudly "You're telling ME I'm not sterile!"</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/im-not-sterile.html' title='I&apos;m not Sterile'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=4764444010890436728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/4764444010890436728'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/4764444010890436728'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-263525944439302154</id><published>2008-05-12T23:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T09:33:40.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pharmacy</title><summary type='text'>A man went into a pharmacy and asked to talk to a male pharmacist. 
The woman he was talking to said that she was the pharmacist and that she and her sister owned the store, so there were no males employed there. She then asked if there was something she could help the gentleman with. The man said "this is embarrassing for me, but I have a permanent erection which causes me a lot of problems and </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/pharmacy.html' title='Pharmacy'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=263525944439302154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/263525944439302154'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/263525944439302154'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-8293254408460528173</id><published>2008-05-11T21:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T09:31:03.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dejected Communist Party Candidate</title><summary type='text'>A dejected Communist Party candidate trudges home after the polls close. "So, Mark, how many votes did you get?" asks his wife. "Two," he responds. She slaps him hard across the face. "What was that for?"

"You have a mistress, now do you!!?"</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/dejected-communist-party-candidate.html' title='Dejected Communist Party Candidate'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=8293254408460528173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/8293254408460528173'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/8293254408460528173'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-1641223017494647642</id><published>2008-05-10T23:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T11:44:01.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wing Commander</title><summary type='text'>My father always loved fast cars. Taking advantage of the empty roads one morning, he accelerated down a wide-open stretch. Unfortunately, a young police officer was waiting at the other end, and Dad was flagged down. He greeted the officer with a cheery "Good morning."

"And a good morning to you, Wing Commander," replied the officer. "Having trouble taking off?"</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/wing-commander.html' title='Wing Commander'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=1641223017494647642' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1641223017494647642'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1641223017494647642'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-67782257275824882</id><published>2008-05-09T23:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T11:39:38.557+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Together Again</title><summary type='text'>Maria is a devout Catholic:  She gets married and has 17 children. Soon after the last child is born her husband dies. A few weeks later she remarries and over the following years has another 22 children with her second husband. After the last child is born her second husband also dies. Within a month Maria is engaged to be married a third time. Unfortunately, she becomes very ill and dies.

At </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/together-again.html' title='Together Again'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=67782257275824882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/67782257275824882'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/67782257275824882'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-1276178110874755455</id><published>2008-05-08T21:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T21:52:52.538+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holland and American Flags</title><summary type='text'>A visitor from Holland was chatting with his American friend and was jokingly explaining about the red, white and blue in the Netherlands flag.

"Our flag symbolizes our taxes," he said. "We get red when we talk about them, white when we get our tax bill, and blue after we pay them."

"That's the same with us," the American said, "only we see stars, too."</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/holland-and-american-flags.html' title='Holland and American Flags'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=1276178110874755455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1276178110874755455'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1276178110874755455'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-3768649548793803691</id><published>2008-05-07T21:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T21:28:32.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blond at Court</title><summary type='text'>A blonde was summoned to court to appear as a witness in a lawsuit. The prosecutor opened his questioning with, "Where were you the night of August 24th?"

"Objection!" said the defense attorney. "Irrelevant!"

"Oh, that's okay," said the blonde from the witness stand. "I don't mind answering the question."

"I object!" the defense said again.

"No, really," said the blonde. "I'll answer."

The </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/blond-at-court.html' title='Blond at Court'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=3768649548793803691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/3768649548793803691'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/3768649548793803691'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-391240272151642598</id><published>2008-05-06T23:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T21:27:20.396+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Young Doctor</title><summary type='text'>A young doctor had moved out to a small community to replace a doctor who was retiring. The older gent suggested the young one accompany him on his
rounds so the community could become used to a new doctor.

At the first house a woman complained, "I've been a little sick to my stomach." The older doctor said, "Well, you've probably been overdoing the fresh fruit. Why not cut back on the amount </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/young-doctor.html' title='Young Doctor'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=391240272151642598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/391240272151642598'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/391240272151642598'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-6982054632433830816</id><published>2008-05-05T23:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T11:06:48.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Build Me a Bridge</title><summary type='text'>A man walking along a California beach was deep in prayer. Suddenly the sky clouded above his head and, in a booming voice, the Lord said, "Because you have TRIED to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish."

The man said, "Build a bridge to Hawaii so I can drive over anytime I want."The Lord said, "Your request is very materialistic. Think of the enormous challenges for that </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/build-me-bridge.html' title='Build Me a Bridge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=6982054632433830816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/6982054632433830816'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/6982054632433830816'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-7912447167748646886</id><published>2008-05-04T23:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T11:04:45.808+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dress Temptation</title><summary type='text'>Struggling to make ends meet on a first-call salary, the pastor was livid when he confronted his wife with the receipt for a $250 dress she had bought."How could you do this?!"

"I was outside the store looking at the dress in the window, and then I found myself trying it on," she explained. "It was like Satan was whispering in my ear, 'You look fabulous in that dress. Buy it!'"

"Well," the </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/dress-temptation.html' title='Dress Temptation'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=7912447167748646886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/7912447167748646886'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/7912447167748646886'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-3151189172273534386</id><published>2008-05-03T23:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T18:45:24.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Most Embarrass Moment</title><summary type='text'>Once when I was out hiking in the woods with my family, I desperately needed to pee.

But there were no toilets handy, so I wandered off the track a little way to select a suitable spot. I soon found a handy little spot, at the edge of a steep bank with a conveniently located handrail.

So I pulled my shorts and panties down to my ankles and squatted down, extending my bottom over the edge of the</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/most-embarrass-moment.html' title='Most Embarrass Moment'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=3151189172273534386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/3151189172273534386'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/3151189172273534386'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-1690392164404839269</id><published>2008-05-02T23:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T12:23:20.693+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On a Lonely Island</title><summary type='text'>A guy is stranded on an island with only a Doberman and a pig for company. There's plenty of food and water, and the weather is beautiful, so he's doing alright - but after a few months he gets lonely...

The pig starts to look more and more attractive - soft, pink flesh, round buttocks, etc. But every time this poor guy makes an advance towards the pig, the Doberman snarls at him and once almost</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/on-lonely-island.html' title='On a Lonely Island'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=1690392164404839269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1690392164404839269'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1690392164404839269'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-915451220760424854</id><published>2008-05-01T22:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T22:40:44.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>NO reason to be jealous</title><summary type='text'>During basic training for the Army Nurse Corps, we were required to spend one week in the field roughing it. It rained the entire week. We arose daily in our swampy tent, took a cold-water beauty bath from our helmets, donned our pistol belts and ponchos, and trudged through the mud to set up field hospitals. Obviously, our personal appearance frequently left much to be desired.

The final blow </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/05/no-reason-to-be-jealous.html' title='NO reason to be jealous'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=915451220760424854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/915451220760424854'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/915451220760424854'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-7079784467828519989</id><published>2008-04-30T23:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T22:39:35.070+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Collection Department</title><summary type='text'>Ann had gotten a job in a collections department. She had to call all the delinquent customers, asking for payment, while still being courteous. After working there for a few months, she had become quite good at her job but realized that many of these customers were routinely delinquent. One man in particular had to be called every month and during this conversation with him, he interrupted her </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/collection-department.html' title='Collection Department'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=7079784467828519989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/7079784467828519989'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/7079784467828519989'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-8418067807651785142</id><published>2008-04-29T23:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T18:04:59.264+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama's Gift</title><summary type='text'>Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctors and lawyers and prospered. Some years later, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the gifts they were able to give their elderly mother who lived far away in another city.

The first said, "I had a big house built for Mama."

The second said, "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in the house."

</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/mamas-gift.html' title='Mama&apos;s Gift'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=8418067807651785142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/8418067807651785142'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/8418067807651785142'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-5103978814330759944</id><published>2008-04-28T20:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T20:26:34.879+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper Thin Wall</title><summary type='text'>As a young married couple, a husband and a wife lived in a cheap housing complex near the base where he was working. Their chief complaint was that the walls were paper-thin and that they had no privacy. This was painfully obvious when one morning the husband was upstairs and the wife was downstairs on the telephone. She was interrupted by the doorbell and went to greet her neighbor. 
  
"Give </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/paper-thin-wall.html' title='Paper Thin Wall'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=5103978814330759944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5103978814330759944'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5103978814330759944'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-6048924251457936251</id><published>2008-04-27T22:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T14:07:12.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An extraordinarily handsome man</title><summary type='text'>"An extraordinarily handsome man decided he had the responsibility to marry the perfect woman so they could produce beautiful children beyond comparison. With that as his mission he began searching for the perfect woman.
Shortly thereafter he met a farmer who had three stunning, gorgeous daughters that positively took his breath away. So he explained his mission to the farmer, asking for </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/extraordinarily-handsome-man.html' title='An extraordinarily handsome man'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=6048924251457936251' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/6048924251457936251'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/6048924251457936251'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-9095825710621049425</id><published>2008-04-26T23:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T14:03:22.472+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Morons</title><summary type='text'>Two morons are riding around looking for a place to have a picnic. One moron says, "Hey, lets have a picnic over there under that tree." The other moron says," No, no, lets have it in the middle of the road." They fought and came to a decision to have it in the middle of the road. Not long afterwards a car came speeding towards them, swerved off the road and ran into the tree. One moron says, “</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/two-morons.html' title='Two Morons'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=9095825710621049425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/9095825710621049425'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/9095825710621049425'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-1978007519697492923</id><published>2008-04-25T08:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T20:15:15.258+08:00</updated><title type='text'>HOW TO COVER YOUR OWN TRACKS</title><summary type='text'>A lawyer returns to his parked BMW to find the headlights broken and considerable damage. There's no sign of the offending vehicle but he's relieved to see that there's a note stuck under the windshield wiper.  
 
"Sorry. I just backed into your Beemer. The witnesses who saw the accident are nodding and smiling at me because they think I'm leaving my name, address and other particulars. But I'm </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/how-to-cover-your-own-tracks.html' title='HOW TO COVER YOUR OWN TRACKS'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=1978007519697492923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1978007519697492923'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/1978007519697492923'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-5392984658550477331</id><published>2008-04-24T22:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T22:00:36.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Without Sex</title><summary type='text'>There was a guy who had been having chronic trouble in trying to get an erection. After weeks of frustration, he finally breaks down and goes to the doctor. The doctor gives him a thorough examination and finally makes the diagnosis.

"Well, there's good news and there's bad news," she says. "The bad news is that the muscles around your penis are deteriorating, and there is no cure."

The guy, on</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/life-without-sex.html' title='Life Without Sex'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=5392984658550477331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5392984658550477331'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5392984658550477331'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-5247398272264778668</id><published>2008-04-23T23:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T09:30:14.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Location, Location</title><summary type='text'>I went to the store the other day.  I was only in there for about 5 minutes and when I came out there was a damn motorcycle cop writing a parking ticket.  So I went up to him and said, "Come on, buddy, how about giving a guy a break?"

He ignored me and continued writing the ticket, so I called him a pencil-necked nazi.  He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having bald tires!  </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/location-location.html' title='Location, Location'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=5247398272264778668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5247398272264778668'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5247398272264778668'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-5694408277729629046</id><published>2008-04-22T21:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T21:17:16.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fig Leaf</title><summary type='text'>A guy goes into a costume shop.  He says, "I'm going to a costume party, and I want to go as Adam."

The girl brings out a fig leaf. 

But he says, "Not big enough!" 

So she brings out a bigger one.

"Still not big enough!" 

So he brings out a HUGE fig leaf. 

"Still not big enough!" he proudly tells her.

So she says, "Listen, Ace, why don't you just throw it over your shoulder and go as a </summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/fig-leaf.html' title='Fig Leaf'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=5694408277729629046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5694408277729629046'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/5694408277729629046'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27689117.post-2970392487228585136</id><published>2008-04-21T23:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T21:15:47.514+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Jones, Your Barracks Door Is Open!</title><summary type='text'>Mr. Jones had recently gotten himself a new secretary, and he called her into his office to transcribe a letter for him. When she walked into the room she noticed his fly was open, but rather than mention it to him then and embarrass him, she waited until she was leaving. Then, as she walked by, she said, "Mr. Jones, your barracks door is open." He was a bit suprised and confused, but finally got</summary><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokediary.com/2008/04/mr-jones-your-barracks-door-is-open.html' title='Mr. Jones, Your Barracks Door Is Open!'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27689117&amp;postID=2970392487228585136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokediary.com/atom.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/2970392487228585136'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27689117/posts/default/2970392487228585136'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10522202731785531401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author></entry></feed>