There'S Nout wrong with Swine Flu..

Some more colourful names for the virus:

Hogthrax
Spamthrax
Tuporkulosis
Porklio
Hogmumps
Pigfluenza
Mad Sow Disease
Sowbola
Sowmonella
Spammonella
Bacon AIDS
Bacon Fever
Whooping Oink
Oinking Pneumonia
Buboinking Pork

and my favourite, Hamthrax.

And if the end of the world comes about, we might just experience:

The Aporkalypse
Hognarok

(Borrowed from: http://www.schlockmercenary.com )

On Life

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the pavement.

Is it just me, or are 80% of the faces in the "people you may know" feature on Facebook, people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not to be friends with?

There is a great need for a sarcasm font.

Sometimes I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger, and suddenly realize I had no idea what the fuck was going on when I first saw it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. There must be complete silence in the first few minutes to make sure everyone hears the opening lines, and then I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's definitely watching and laughing/frowning/mouth gaping at the right parts.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? I don’t think I will ever master it.

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

LOL has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. Too often I find crisps/biscuits/left over dinner appealing.

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete tool. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to a lawyer and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories.

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Big Trak Robotic Truck that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem.

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" ? Never getting washed.

I hate being the one with the remote, in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will theyjudge me if I keep it on?

I hate it when I just miss a call by the last ring: "Hello? Dammit!" But when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something that she hasn't already told me, but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for paedophiles...

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone, just so I know not to answer when they call.

Even under ideal conditions, people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey, but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

The other night I ordered takeaway. When I looked in the bag, I saw they had included four sets of plastic cutlery. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel like a fat b*stard before dinner.

Beaut Camp.

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. Eromanga is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far southwest of Queensland.


Dear Mum & Dad,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin' on the farm - tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lotsa hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo steaks or possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don't get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are buggered because we've been on a 'route march' - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody possum's bum and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - it's easy-peasy!! You don't even load your own cartridges, they comes in little boxes, and ya don't have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - it's not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.
Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers - he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.



Your loving daughter,

Sheila

Did you use a rubber? Check.

Judge to prostitute: "So when did you realize you were raped?"

Prostitute, wiping away tears: "When the cheque bounced."

Butt of the joke

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?

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.'

13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'

On Colonoscopies - "Butt I feel fine Doc!"

From Dave Barry's experiences.

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a colour diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.

Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.

In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavour.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep.

You mix two packets of powder together in a one-litre plastic jug, and then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a litre is about 32 gallons.)

Then you have to drink the whole jug.

This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humour, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative.

I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle.

There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt.

You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently.

You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another litre of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic.

I was very nervous.

Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage.

I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that?

Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said.

Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of hose hospital garments designed by sadist perverts - the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.

Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down.

Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep.

At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode.

You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anaesthetist.

I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere.

I was seriously nervous at this point.

Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anaesthetist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand.

There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

'Ha ha,' I said.

And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade.

If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea.

Really.

I slept through it.

One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt.

I felt excellent.

I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colours.

I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

I visited Cannes and made quite an impact...

Scottish Pearl-ance

A Glasgow woman goes to the dentist and settles down in the chair.
'Comfy?'asks the dentist.
'Govan,' she replies.


What did the Siamese twins from Glasgow call their autobiography?
Oor Wullie.


A guy walks into an antiques shop and says: 'How much for the set of antlers?'
'Two hundred quid,' says the bloke behind the counter.
'That's affa dear,' says the guy.


Did you hear about the fella who liked eating bricks and cement?
He's awa' noo.


After announcing he's getting married, a boy tells his pal he'll be wearing the kilt.
'And what's the tartan?' asks his mate.
'Oh, she'll be wearing a white dress.'


Ten cows in a field. Which one is closest to Iraq?
Coo eight.


Three wee jobbies sitting on the pavement. Which one's a Musketeer?
The dark tan yin.


A Scotsman in London is having trouble phoning his sister from a telephone box. So he calls the operator who asks in a plummy voice:
'Is there money in the box?'
'Naw, it's just me,' he replies.


While getting ready to go out, a wee wifie says to her husband:
'Do you think I'm getting a wee bit pigeon chested?'
'Aye, but that's why I love you like a doo.'


What was the name of the first Scottish cowboy?
Hawkeye The Noo.


What do you call a pigeon that goes to Aviemore for its holidays?
A skean dhu.


How many Spanish guys does it take to change a lightbulb?
Just Juan.


What's the difference between The Rolling Stones and an Aberdeen sheep farmer?
The Rolling Stones say: 'Hey you, get off of my cloud.' and an Aberdeen sheep farmer says: 'Hey McLeod, get off of ma ewe.'


What do you call an illegitimate Scottish insect?
A wee fly bastard.


Did you hear about the BBC Scotland series that features the queue for the toilets at Waverley Station?
It's called 'The Aw' Needin' Line'.


What about the Scotsman who lost his testicles in a motorcycle accident?
The surgeon re-attached them with Bostik.


While being interviewed for a job as a bus driver, a guy is asked:
'What would you do if you had a rowdy passenger?'
'I'd put him off at the next stop,' he says.
'Good. And what would you do if you couldn't get the fare?'
'I'd take the first two weeks in August,' he replies.


A Glasgow man - steaming and skint - is walking down Argyle Street when he spots a guy tinkering with the engine of his car.
'What's up Jimmy?' he asks.
'Piston broke,' he replies.
'Aye, same as masel...'