****OFFICIAL FRIDAY SILLINESS (SPRING FORWARD) THREAD****

This weekend Daylight Saving Time begins, at 2am on Sunday, March 11th. Ah, time...great, we lose an hour this weekend, and that means one less hour to play, drink, sleep, and just be. Let's kill some time here then....

Daylight saving time (DST), also known as summer time in British English, is the convention of advancing clocks so that evenings have more daylight and mornings have less. Typically clocks are adjusted forward one hour in late winter or early spring and are adjusted backward in autumn. Details vary by location and change occasionally.

Governments often promote DST as an energy conservation measure because it substitutes summer afternoon sunlight for electrical lighting. However, in some cases DST can increase energy costs.

Daylight Saving Time - for the U.S. and its territories - is NOT observed in Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and by most of Arizona (with the exception of the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona).

"An extra yawn one morning in the springtime, an extra snooze one night in the autumn is all that we ask in return for dazzling gifts. We borrow an hour one night in April; we pay it back with golden interest five months later."

Anger Management

________________________________

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take
it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on
someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to
make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello."
I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn
Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right if***ing
number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that
anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to
call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two
digits.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an *** hole!" and
hung up. I wrote his number down with the word '*** hole next to it, and
put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills
or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an *** hole!"
It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic '***hole'
calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this
is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're
familiar with our Caller ID Program?"

He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back
and said, "That's because you're an ***hole and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had
patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting
for that spot, but the idiot ignored me I noticed a "For Sale" sign in
his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first ***hole (I had his
number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the BMW *** hole,
too.

I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

He said, "Yes, it is."

I asked, "Can you tell me where I can see it?"

He said, "Yes, I live at 34 Oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax. It's a yellow
rambler, and the car's parked right out in front."

I asked, "What's your name?"

He said, "My name is Don Hansen,"

I asked, "When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

He said, "I'm home every evening after five."

I said, "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

He said, "Yes?"

I said, "Don, you're an *** hole!"

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I
had a problem, I had two ***holes to call.

Then I came up with an idea. I called *** hole #1.

He said, "Hello."

I said, "You're an *** hole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
He asked, "Are you still there?"

I said, "Yeah,"

He screamed, "Stop calling me,"

I said, "Make me,"

He asked, "Who are you?"

I said, "My name is Don Hansen."

He said, "Yeah? Where do you live?"

I said, "*** hole, I live at 34 Oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow
rambler, I have a black Beamer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start
saying your prayers."

I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, *** hole," and hung up.

Then I called ***hole #2.

He said, "Hello?"

I said, "Hello, *** hole,"

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."

I said, "You'll what?"
He exclaimed, "I'll kick your ***,"

I answered, "Well, ***hole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right
now." Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I
lived at 34 Oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over
there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oak tree
Blvd. in Fairfax.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just
in time to watch two ***holes beating the crap out of each other in
front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a
news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

Anger management really does work

"Of course I won't laugh," the doctor said. "I'm a professional. In over twenty years I've never laughed at a patient."

"Okay then," Dave said, and proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest 'whoo-ha' the doctor had ever seen. It couldn't have been bigger than the size of a AAA battery.

Unable to control himself, the doctor started giggling, then fell laughing to the floor. Ten minutes later he was able to struggle to his feet and regain his composure.

"I'm so sorry," said the doctor. "I really am. I don't know what came over me. On my honor as a doctor and a gentleman, I promise it won't happen again. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"It's swollen,"

Q: What do you call a Frenchman advancing on Baghdad?
A: A salesman.

Q: Where can you find 60,100,000 French jokes?
A: In France.

Q: Why do zee French have zee onion and zee Arabs has zee oil?
A: Because zee French had zee first pick.

Q: How do you brainwash a Frenchman?
A: Fill up his boots with water.

A cannibal went into the butcher shop to buy some brains for dinner. She saw that American and British brains were $4.95 per lb and French brains were $450.00 per lb. She gasped and asked the butcher if the price of the French brains were a misprint.
“No ma’m,” answered the butcher. “That is the correct price.” “Well, why are the French brains so expensive?” exclaimed the cannibal. “Do you know how many French it takes to get a pound of brains?” replied the butcher.

Q: How many generations does it take to learn ingratitude?
A: Trois

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