I was talking to a friend’s little girl, and she said she wanted to be President some day. …
…
Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, … ‘If you were to be the President, what’s the first thing you would do?’ …
…
She replied, ‘I’d give food and houses to all the homeless people.’ …
…
‘Wow - what a worthy goal.’ I told her, ‘You don’t have to wait until you’re President to do that. …
You can come over to my house and mow the grass, pull weeds, and sweep my yard, and I’ll pay you $50. Then I’ll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward food or a new house.’ … …
She thought that over for a few seconds, ’cause she’s only 6.
And while her Mom glared at me, the little girl looked me straight in the eye and asked, ‘Why doesn’t the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?’
And I said, ‘Welcome to the Republican Party.’
Two friends are in the living room. The wife of one of them is in the kitchen. "Sweetheart, please, can you hand us the bottle of whisky?" he says. And then, again, "Sweetheart, and two glasses please?"
The other man stares at him and says,
"My gosh, how long have you been married?"
"Thirty years."
"Oh wow, and you still call her sweetheart?"
And the first whispers, "Well, I forgot what her name is!"
Two high school buddies decided once and for all to prove who was the faster swimmer. They picked a large stream near their old high school, and the first one to swim to the other side would be declared the winner. Harvey, a friend of Bill, the so-called underdog, had a plan.
"For some reason," Harvey explained to Bill's other rooters, "Bill loves jokes, and when he hears or reads good, funny jokes, it gets his adrenaline going, and nothing can stop him."
Harvey then grabs a joke book and hands it to Bill before the whistle blew to start the race. "And they're off!" the whistle blower shouted.
Halfway across, picking the winner was practically a no-brainer. "Bill's going to win!" yelled one.
"He's actually chuckling and giggling, reading that joke book while swimming to the slоре bordering the other side of the stream."
"What's he accomplishing by doing that?"
"He's laughing all the way to the bank!"
Once upon a time, a small boy named Basheer lived in a tiny Moroccan village. All his classmates hated him for his stupidity especially his teacher who was always yelling at him “you are driving me crazy Basheer”… ….
….
One day his mother went to check out how he was doing at school and the teacher told her honestly that her son is simply a disaster, getting very low marks and never had she seen such a dumb boy in her whole career…
The mother could not accept such a feed back and she took her son out from that school. she even shifted to another city …
25 years later, that teacher got a cardio disorder and all the doctors advised her to go for an open heart operation which only one surgeon could perform..
Left with no other choice she did it and the surgery was successful …when she opened her eyes, she saw a handsome doctor smiling to her, being under anesthesia effect, she wanted to thank him but could not talk, in turn, he was staring at her face which started turning blue, she was raising her hand trying to tell him some thing but in vain and eventually she died…
The doctor was shocked and was trying to understand what just happened, till he turned back and saw our friend Basheer working as a cleaner in that hospital who unplugged the ventilator to connect his vacuum cleaner……
(If you were thinking that Basheer became a doctor, its because you have been reading too many motivational forward messages.)
☆ One Star Hangover:
No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep last night was a mere disco nap, which has given you a whole lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way. …
….
☆ ☆ Two Star Hangover:
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the mental capacity of an office stapler. The coffee you are chugging is only exacerbating your rumbling gut. There is some definite havoc being wreaked upon your воwеls.
☆ ☆ ☆ Three Star Hangover:
Slight headache. Stomach feels сrаррy. You are definitely not productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your friends after the bouncer threw you out of the pub at 2:00 A. M…. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a fruit salad watching an old black and white Hollywood movie. You’ve had 4 cups of coffee, 2 liters of water, 3 Tropicana’s and a liter of diet coke, yet you haven’t peed once.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Four Star Hangover:
Life suскs. Your head is throbbing. You can’t speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of вооzе. You wore nice clothes, but that can’t hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars). Your eyes have sunken as if u have not slept for days.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Five Star Hangover:
AKA “Dante’s 4th Circle of Неll”. You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cube. Vоdка vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth in an attempt to get the remnants of the shiт fairy out. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. Death seems pretty good right now. You definitely don’t remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank and why there is a stranger still sleeping in your bed at your otherwise empty house.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Six Star Hangover:
Otherwise known as the “Infinite Nut smacker”. You wake up on your bathroom floor. For about 2 seconds you look at the ceiling, wondering if the cool refreshing feeling on your cheek is the bathroom tile or your vомiт from 5 hours ago. It is amazing how your roommate was as drunк as you, but somehow managed to get up before you. You try to lift your head. Not an option. Then you inadvertently turn your head too quickly and smell the funk of 13 packs of cigarettes in your hair. Suddenly you realize you were smoking, but not ultra lights… some jаскаss handed you Marlboro reds, and you smoked them like it was your second full time job. You look in the mirror only to see remnants of the stamp “Hard Rock” faintly atop your forehead… the stamp on the back of your hand that has magically appeared on your forehead by alcoholic osmosis. You have to be to work in t-minus 14 minutes and 32 seconds and the only thing you can think of wearing is your “hello kitty” pajamas and your slippers.
The answer is simple: you did.
See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fсuкing treated you.
At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fат, or too poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease. Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and dоuсhе bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?” Well, once again, you did. You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an аsshоlе than he ever wanted to be. Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of “nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that. So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do: 1.) Build a time machine. 2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your аss. 3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it. I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you. If you were five years younger. So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you’ve fcuked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to excise the bullsh1t and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn’t fсuкing want you, now. Sincerely, A Recovering Nice Guy.