<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:24:35.413-05:00</updated><category term='women'/><category term='jokes'/><category term='animals'/><category term='children'/><category term='songs'/><category term='bible'/><category term='veterinarian'/><category term='boys'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='Math'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='honeymoon'/><category term='angels'/><category term='Politicians'/><category term='community reinvestment act'/><category term='scams'/><category term='Seniors'/><category term='army'/><category term='catholic'/><category term='wisdom'/><category term='trains'/><category term='celebrities'/><category term='Atlanta'/><category term='beatings'/><category term='youth'/><category term='jo'/><category term='religion'/><category term='men'/><category term='Obama'/><category term='gators'/><category term='morticians'/><category term='Bars'/><category term='football'/><category term='guns'/><category term='driving'/><category term='medicine'/><category term='kids'/><title type='text'>Make Me Grimace</title><subtitle type='html'>Need a laugh? Taking yourself too seriously lately? Come here for a sit. Relax your jaw...and prepare to grimace.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>240</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7518413332737645721</id><published>2009-09-03T10:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T10:19:57.465-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bars'/><title type='text'>The talking clock</title><summary type='text'>After closing time at the bar, a drunk was proudly showing off his new apartment to a couple of his buddies.  He led the way to his bedroom where there was a big brass gong and mallet.'What's with that big brass gong?' one of the  guests asked.      'It's not a gong. It's a talking clock,' the drunk replied.   'A talking clock? You're not serious?' asked his astonished friend.  'Yup,' replied the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7518413332737645721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7518413332737645721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/09/talking-clock.html' title='The talking clock'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7955579760405468043</id><published>2009-08-30T20:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:25:30.211-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><title type='text'>A Powerful Message from Stevie  Wonder</title><summary type='text'>A Powerful Message from Stevie  WonderOn Michael Jackson’s Death…  ......... .. … … ..   …..... .  .. …    .   .     . ..   .  .. . ..  ….   .. .. . …    ......  ... .. ... ... ... ... .... ....... ... ... ... .... ..... .. ....     .  .  … .. .   . .  ...... . .... ...  .... .... .......... .... .... .... ..... ..... ..... .. . . ....  ....... ..     .  ..   .      ..   . ..          .</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7955579760405468043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7955579760405468043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/powerful-message-from-stevie-wonder.html' title='A Powerful Message from Stevie  Wonder'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6468513973048035666</id><published>2009-08-30T20:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:21:14.637-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><title type='text'>Tailgater</title><summary type='text'>A man was being tailgated by a stressed-out woman on a busy boulevard. Suddenly, the light turned yellow just in front of him. He did the right thing, stopping at the crosswalk, even though he could have beaten the red light by accelerating through the intersection.The tailgating woman was furious and honked her horn, screaming in frustration, as she missed her chance to get through the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6468513973048035666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6468513973048035666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/tailgater.html' title='Tailgater'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4194273910482111587</id><published>2009-08-30T20:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:18:41.507-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Liver and Cheese</title><summary type='text'>There's a Chihuahua and a Pit Bull sitting at the bar.In walks a hottie of a Poodle, strutting her stuff.The bartender bets both of them that they could notpick up on her, with a line using the words "liver"and "cheese".The Pit Bull goes first and walks proudly over to herand says "I got some liver back at my place."  She turnsher nose up, and looks the other way. He then says "Ibet when you cut </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4194273910482111587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4194273910482111587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/liver-and-cheese.html' title='Liver and Cheese'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6063555139773512055</id><published>2009-08-30T20:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:17:59.168-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Married in Heavan</title><summary type='text'>On their way to get married, a young Catholic coupleare involved in a fatal car accident. The couple findthemselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates waitingfor St. Peter to process them into Heaven. While waiting,they begin to wonder: Could they possibly get marriedin Heaven?When St. Peter showed up, they asked him. St. Petersays, "I don't know. This is the first time anyone hasasked. Let me go </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6063555139773512055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6063555139773512055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/married-in-heavan.html' title='Married in Heavan'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5488015768351057609</id><published>2009-08-30T20:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:16:33.677-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seniors'/><title type='text'>The Senior Center</title><summary type='text'>It was entertainment night at the Senior Center.Claude the hypnotist exclaimed: 'I'm here to put youall into a trance - I intend to hypnotize each and everymember of the audience.'The excitement was almost electric as Claude withdrewa beautiful antique pocket watch from his coat. Thepolished metal gleamed in the light.Claude the hypnotist said: 'I want you each to keep youreyes on this antique </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5488015768351057609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5488015768351057609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/senior-center.html' title='The Senior Center'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-421874893906931582</id><published>2009-08-30T20:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:15:13.389-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politicians'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>The Pope Meets Nancy</title><summary type='text'>The Pope and Nancy Pelosi are on the same stage in front of a huge crowd. The Madame Speaker and His Holiness, however, have seen it all before. To make it a little more interesting, Madame Speaker says to the Pope, "Did You know that with just one little wave of my hand I can make every Democrat in the crowd go wild?" He doubts it, so she shows him. Sure enough, the wave elicits rapture and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/421874893906931582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/421874893906931582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/pope-meets-nancy.html' title='The Pope Meets Nancy'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5616410514100653289</id><published>2009-08-30T20:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:14:09.734-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='football'/><title type='text'>The New Orleans Saints New Quarterback</title><summary type='text'>The coach had put together the perfect team for the New Orleans Saints.  The only thing that was missing was a good quarterback. He had scouted all  the colleges and even the Canadian and European Leagues, but he couldn't  find a ringer who could ensure a Super Bowl win.     Then one night while watching CNN he saw a war-zone scene in Afghanistan .  In one corner of the background, he spotted a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5616410514100653289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5616410514100653289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-orleans-saints-new-quarterback.html' title='The New Orleans Saints New Quarterback'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2144460824706510671</id><published>2009-08-30T20:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:11:10.956-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='veterinarian'/><title type='text'>The Proud Mother</title><summary type='text'>One Sunday, in counting the money in the weekly offering, the pastor of the Granville Presbyterian church found a pink envelope containing $1,000.  It happened again the next week. The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw a little old lady put the distinctive pink envelope in the plate.  This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2144460824706510671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2144460824706510671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/proud-mother.html' title='The Proud Mother'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6424613184713218480</id><published>2009-08-30T20:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:07:26.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dying Cajun</title><summary type='text'>An elderly cajun man lay dying in his bed.  While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite beignets wafting up the stairs.  He gathered his  remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6424613184713218480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6424613184713218480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/dying-cajun.html' title='Dying Cajun'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6466650493871179949</id><published>2009-08-30T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:03:12.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama'/><title type='text'>A Democrat's Predictions</title><summary type='text'>Much as it pains me to say this, I have to admit it ... my Democrat friends were right. They told me if I voted for McCain the nation's hope would deteriorate, and sure enough, there has been a 20 point drop in the Consumer Confidence Index since the election, reaching a lower point than any time during the Bush administration.              They told me if I voted for McCain the US would become </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6466650493871179949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6466650493871179949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/democrats-predictions.html' title='A Democrat&apos;s Predictions'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1460982194641443361</id><published>2009-08-30T19:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T19:59:56.984-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama'/><title type='text'>Lemon Picker</title><summary type='text'>A woman applying for a job in a Florida lemon groveseemed to be far too qualified for the job.The foreman frowned and said,"I have to ask you this:Have you had any actual experience in picking lemons?""Well, as a matter of fact, I have!" she replied."I've been divorced three times,owned 2 Plymouths,and I voted for Obama."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1460982194641443361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1460982194641443361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/08/lemon-picker.html' title='Lemon Picker'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8532537527515050542</id><published>2009-06-14T20:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T20:59:32.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gentleman</title><summary type='text'>A man was sunbathing naked at the beach.  For the sakeof civility, and to keep it from getting sunburned, he had ahat over his private parts.    A woman walks past and says, snickering, "If you were agentleman you'd lift your hat."  He raised an eyebrow and replied, "If you weren't sougly it would lift itself."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8532537527515050542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8532537527515050542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/06/gentleman.html' title='Gentleman'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6319383763119591391</id><published>2009-04-13T09:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:11:30.532-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rocket Science</title><summary type='text'>Scientists at NASA have developed a gun built specificallyto launch dead chickens at the windshields of airliners,military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling atmaximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequentincidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test thestrength of the windshields. British engineers heard about the gun and were eagerto test it on the windshields of their new </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6319383763119591391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6319383763119591391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/04/rocket-science.html' title='Rocket Science'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4714283040149607043</id><published>2009-04-13T09:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T22:16:54.374-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fairy Tale</title><summary type='text'>One day, long, long ago, there lived a woman who did not whine, nag, or bitch.But it was a long time ago, and it was just that one day.                The End</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4714283040149607043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4714283040149607043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/04/fairy-tale.html' title='Fairy Tale'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3076007919762528846</id><published>2009-04-07T10:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T10:25:36.861-04:00</updated><title type='text'>handy-woman</title><summary type='text'>A blond teenager, wanting to earn some extra money for the summer, decided to hire herself out as a "handy-woman" and started canvassing a nearby well-to-do neighborhood.She went to the front door of the first house, and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do."Well, I guess I could use somebody to paint my porch," he said, "How much will you charge me?"Delighted, the girl quickly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3076007919762528846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3076007919762528846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/04/handy-woman.html' title='handy-woman'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5142546853244686590</id><published>2009-03-10T21:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:54:01.095-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Going fishing</title><summary type='text'>Four married guys go fishing. After an hour, the following conversation tookplace.First guy: "You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out fishingthis weekend. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every room in thehouse next weekend."Second guy: "That's nothing, I had to promise my wife that I will build hera new deck for the pool."Third guy: "Man, you both have it easy! I had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5142546853244686590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5142546853244686590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/03/going-fishing.html' title='Going fishing'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1071742872224744257</id><published>2009-03-10T21:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:52:02.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peter and the Elephant</title><summary type='text'>In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University                                     On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.  The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.                   He got down on one knee, inspected the elephant's foot, and found a large </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1071742872224744257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1071742872224744257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/03/peter-and-elephant.html' title='Peter and the Elephant'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8351087657133793546</id><published>2009-03-10T21:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:48:30.609-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Undertaker</title><summary type='text'> Roy, an undertaker in Pennsylvania came home with a black eye.    "What happened to you?" asked his wife."    I had a terrible day," replies Roy ."I had to go to a hotel and pick up a man who had died in his sleep.    When I got there, the manager said they couldn't get him into aBody bag because he had this huge erection.    Anyway, I find the room and, sure enough, there's this big naked guy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8351087657133793546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8351087657133793546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/03/undertaker.html' title='The Undertaker'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5613705873060234597</id><published>2009-03-01T20:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T20:04:36.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How would you pronounce this child's name?</title><summary type='text'>      OKAY. How would you pronounce this child's name:  "Le-a" ??? Leah??  NO Lee - A??   NOPE Lay - a??   NO  Lei??   Guess Again. This child attends a school in Livingston Parish, LA.   Her mother is irate because everyone is getting her name wrong.   It's pronounced "Ledasha", When the Mother was asked  about the pronunciation of  the name, she said, "the dash don't be silent."         SO, if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5613705873060234597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5613705873060234597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-would-you-pronounce-this-childs.html' title='How would you pronounce this child&apos;s name?'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5772089500373164297</id><published>2009-03-01T20:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T20:03:09.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Church Funnies</title><summary type='text'>One Sunday morning, a mother went in to wake her son and tell him it was time to get ready for church, to which he replied, 'I'm not going.'   'Why not?' she asked.   I'll give you two good reasons,' he said. '(1), they don't like me, and (2), I don't like them.'   His mother replied, 'I'll give YOU two good reasons why YOU SHOULD go to church.   (1) You're 59 years old, and (2) you're the pastor</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5772089500373164297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5772089500373164297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/03/church-funnies.html' title='Church Funnies'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4683931726954632243</id><published>2009-02-15T19:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T19:56:43.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone Fishing</title><summary type='text'>Saturday    morning I got up early, dressed quietly, made my lunch, grabbed the dog,    slipped quietly into the garage to hook the boat up to the truck, and    proceeded to back out into a torrential down pour.          The wind was blowing 50 mph. I pulled back into the garage, turned    on the radio and discovered that the weather would be bad throughout the day.          I went back into the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4683931726954632243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4683931726954632243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/02/gone-fishing.html' title='Gone Fishing'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6078480983750968437</id><published>2009-02-15T19:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T19:54:35.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Babtist Shampoo</title><summary type='text'>While shopping in a grocery store, two Baptistchurch ladies happened  to pass by the beer, wine, and liquor section.One asked the other if  she would like a beer.  The second good Baptist sister answered that,indeed, it would be very  nice to have one, but that she would feeluncomfortable about  purchasing it.  The first sister replied that she would handlethat without a problem.  She picked up a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6078480983750968437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6078480983750968437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/02/babtist-shampoo.html' title='Babtist Shampoo'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2718262358282384431</id><published>2009-02-15T19:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T19:53:40.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Choosing A Wife</title><summary type='text'>A man wanted to get married. He was having trouble choosing among three likely candidates. He gives each woman a present of $5,000 and watches to see what they do with the money.The first does a total makeover. She goes to a fancy beauty salon, gets her hair done, new makeup; buys several new outfits and dresses up very nicely for the man. She tells him that she has done this to be more </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2718262358282384431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2718262358282384431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2009/02/choosing-wife.html' title='Choosing A Wife'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5530280520987831661</id><published>2008-12-06T11:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T11:16:56.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Safe Sex</title><summary type='text'> A woman went to her doctor  for advice. She told him that her  husband had developed a  penchant for anal sex, and she was   not sure that it was such  a good idea.'Do you enjoy it?' the doctor asked.'Actually, yes,  I do.''Does it hurt you?' he asked.'No. I rather like  it.''Well, then,' the doctor continued, 'there's no reason that  you shouldn't practice anal  sex, if that's what you like, so</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5530280520987831661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5530280520987831661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/12/safe-sex.html' title='Safe Sex'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7772493492234580737</id><published>2008-12-06T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T11:16:00.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY GOD MADE MOMS</title><summary type='text'>Answers given by 2nd  grade school children to the following  questions:Why did God make  mothers       1. She's the only one who  knows where the scotch tape is.      2. Mostly to  clean the house.      3. To help us out of there  when we were getting  born.                  How did God make  mothers      1. He used dirt, just like for the  rest of us.      2. Magic plus super powers and a  lot </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7772493492234580737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7772493492234580737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/12/why-god-made-moms.html' title='WHY GOD MADE MOMS'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3064412256673281852</id><published>2008-12-06T11:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T11:14:38.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BAPTIST DINNER FOR EIGHT</title><summary type='text'>A group of country friends from the Cottonwood Baptist Church wanted to gettogether on a regular basis to socialize, and play games. The lady of the housewas to prepare the meal.When it came time for Al and Janet to be the hosts, Janet wanted to outdo allthe others. Janet decided to have mushroom-smothered steak, but, mushrooms areexpensive. She then told her husband, 'No mushrooms. They are too </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3064412256673281852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3064412256673281852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/12/baptist-dinner-for-eight.html' title='BAPTIST DINNER FOR EIGHT'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1394962266428993136</id><published>2008-12-04T10:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T10:33:01.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to a fart</title><summary type='text'>A  fart, it is a pleasant  thing, It  gives the belly ease, It  warms the bed in winter, And  suffocates the fleas. A  fart can be quiet, A  fart can be loud, Some  leave a powerful, Poisonous  cloud A  fart can be short, Or  a fart can be long, Some  farts have been known To  sound like a  song...... A  fart can create A  most curious medley, A  fart can be harmless, Or  silent , and  deadly. A</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1394962266428993136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1394962266428993136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/12/ode-to-fart.html' title='Ode to a fart'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6381599430499859534</id><published>2008-12-04T10:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T10:32:25.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ostrich</title><summary type='text'>A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him.   The waitress asks them for their orders.   The man says, "A hamburger, fries and a coke," and turns to   the ostrich, "What's yours?"   "I'll have the same," says the ostrich.      A short time later the waitress returns with the order.  "That will   be $9.40 please."  The man reaches into his pocket and   pulls out the exact </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6381599430499859534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6381599430499859534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/12/ostrich.html' title='The Ostrich'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2106517063678077569</id><published>2008-11-18T10:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:39:05.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE LITTLE RED HEN (TODAY'S VERSION)</title><summary type='text'>The little red hen called all of her Democrat neighbors together and said, 'If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?'       'Not I,' said the cow.       'Not I,' said the duck.       'Not I,' said the pig.       'Not I,' said the goose.       'Then I will do it by myself,' said the little red hen, and so she did.   The wheat grew very tall and ripened into </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2106517063678077569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2106517063678077569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-red-hen-todays-version.html' title='THE LITTLE RED HEN (TODAY&apos;S VERSION)'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5950632682509831846</id><published>2008-11-18T10:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:37:29.145-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally</title><summary type='text'>She married and had 13 children. Her husband died.She married again and had 7 more children. Again, her husband died.She remarried a third time and this time had 5 more children.She finally died after having 25 children.Standing before her coffin, the preacher prayed for her. He thanked the Lord for this very loving woman and mother and said, 'Lord, they're finally together.'One mourner leaned </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5950632682509831846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5950632682509831846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/finally.html' title='Finally'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2359059114557954215</id><published>2008-11-18T10:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:35:36.085-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Government  Truisms</title><summary type='text'>Suppose you were an idiot.  And suppose you were a member of Congress. But then I repeat myself. - Mark Twain..................................................................................................................                I contend that for a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle.    - Winston </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2359059114557954215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2359059114557954215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/government-truisms.html' title='Government  Truisms'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2326931443654294949</id><published>2008-11-18T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:33:55.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Animals that were formerly self-sufficient are now showing signs of Democratic Party influence... They have apparently stopped foraging  and have learned to simply sit and wait for the government to provide for their care and sustenance.   The photo below captures a disturbing trend that is beginning to affect wildlife in the US.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2326931443654294949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2326931443654294949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/animals-that-were-formerly-self.html' title=''/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/SSLgVsAorVI/AAAAAAAAAFE/RCSMK_j6yxw/s72-c/ATT00001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1520694717914005349</id><published>2008-11-18T10:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:31:32.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Notice to All Employees</title><summary type='text'>As of November 5, 2008, IF President Obama is officially elected into office, our company will instill a few new policies which are in keeping with his new, inspiring issues of change and fairness:1. All salespeople will be pooling their sales commissions into a common pool that will be divided equally between all of you.  This will serve to give those of you who are underachieving a “fair shake.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1520694717914005349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1520694717914005349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/notice-to-all-employees.html' title='Notice to All Employees'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2806507852027413782</id><published>2008-11-18T10:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:30:39.518-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comeback!</title><summary type='text'>Father Quinn rose from his bed early one morning.  It was a fine spring day in his new Texas mission parish.  He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was a jackass lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. He promptly called the local police station.  The conversation went like this:'Good morning. This is Sergeant Jones. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2806507852027413782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2806507852027413782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/comeback.html' title='Comeback!'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2947778377955429977</id><published>2008-11-18T10:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:28:06.132-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Caring Lawyer</title><summary type='text'>One afternoon, a wealthy lawyer was riding in the backof his limousine when he saw two men eating grass bythe road side. He ordered his driver to stop and hegot out to investigate."Why are you eating grass?", he asked one man."We don't have any money for food.", The poor man replied."Oh, come along with me then.""But sir, I have a wife with two children!""Bring them along! And you, come with us </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2947778377955429977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2947778377955429977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/caring-lawyer.html' title='The Caring Lawyer'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1817687408056399611</id><published>2008-11-18T10:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:24:56.462-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fellow Business Executives:</title><summary type='text'>As the CFO of this business that employees 140 people, I have resigned myself to the fact that Barrack Obama is our next President, and that our taxes and government fees will increase in a BIG way.  To compensate for these increases, I figure that the clients will have to see an increase in our fees to them of about 8% but since we cannot increase our fees right now due to the dismal state of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1817687408056399611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1817687408056399611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/fellow-business-executives.html' title='Fellow Business Executives:'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-318811511444186130</id><published>2008-11-18T10:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:24:01.994-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grampa</title><summary type='text'>A woman is in a grocery store and happens upon a grandpa and his poorly behaving 3 year-old grandson.  Atevery turn. Its obvious gramps has his hands full with thekid screaming for candy in the candy aisle, cookies in thecookie aisle; same for fruit, cereal and soda. Meanwhile gramps is working his way around saying in a controlled voice, "Easy Albert, we won't be long, easy boy"       Another </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/318811511444186130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/318811511444186130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/grampa.html' title='Grampa'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6871837729090255844</id><published>2008-11-18T10:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:22:56.492-05:00</updated><title type='text'>RYE BREAD</title><summary type='text'>Two old guys, one 80 and one 87, were sitting on their usual park bench one morning.The 87 year old had just finished his morning jog and wasn't even short of breath.The 80 year old was amazed at his friend's stamina and asked him what he did to have so much energy.The 87 year old said "Well, I eat rye bread every day. It keeps your energy level high and you'll have great stamina with the ladies.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6871837729090255844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6871837729090255844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/rye-bread.html' title='RYE BREAD'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4669936271898902669</id><published>2008-11-18T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:22:25.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Hard Feelings...</title><summary type='text'>From Republicans to DemocratsThe election day is over,The talking is done.My party lost, your party won.So let us be friends,Let arguments pass.I'll hug my elephant,You kiss your ass.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4669936271898902669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4669936271898902669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-hard-feelings.html' title='No Hard Feelings...'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8035171771064367401</id><published>2008-10-25T11:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T11:08:43.929-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Modern Little Red Hen</title><summary type='text'>The little red hen called all of her Democrat neighbors together and said, 'If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?'       'Not I,' said the cow.   'Not I,' said the duck.   'Not I,' said the pig.'Not I,' said the goose.   'Then I will do it by myself,' said the little red hen, and so she did.   The wheat grew very tall and ripened into golden grain.     '</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8035171771064367401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8035171771064367401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/10/modern-little-red-hen.html' title='Modern Little Red Hen'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5440613042129081754</id><published>2008-10-09T16:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T16:08:03.259-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Howard Stern interviews Obama voters</title><summary type='text'>Freaking hysterical.http://www.bpmdeejays.com/upload/hs_sal_in_Harlem_100108.mp3Typical Democrat voters</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5440613042129081754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5440613042129081754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/10/howard-stern-interviews-obama-voters.html' title='Howard Stern interviews Obama voters'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2205638918227040295</id><published>2008-09-26T16:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T16:49:27.100-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community reinvestment act'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politicians'/><title type='text'>Not a funny matter.... our economy and how we got here.</title><summary type='text'>While this blog is typically dedicated to humor, we'll post this about the worst joke in the past 10 years. The Community Reinvestment Act.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2205638918227040295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2205638918227040295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/09/not-funny-matter-our-economy-and-how-we.html' title='Not a funny matter.... our economy and how we got here.'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5338416901388825977</id><published>2008-08-21T22:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T22:53:14.627-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Blues</title><summary type='text'>There was an elderly couple who were both widowed.           They had been going out with each other for a long time, and urged on by their friends, they decided it was finally time to get married.           Before the wedding, they went out to dinner and had a long conversation regarding how their marriage might work.           They discussed finances, living arrangements, and so on.           </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5338416901388825977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5338416901388825977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/08/wedding-blues.html' title='Wedding Blues'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7703760847679927621</id><published>2008-08-20T13:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T13:32:21.724-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BBQ ain't  a verb!</title><summary type='text'>While this is funny, its actually some pretty darn good pickin'. Its also a pretty good description of the Southern states.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7703760847679927621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7703760847679927621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/08/bbq-aint-verb.html' title='BBQ ain&apos;t  a verb!'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7199759598952119762</id><published>2008-08-07T09:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T09:46:23.031-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:</title><summary type='text'>Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting weak?Why do banks charge a fee on 'insufficient funds' when they know there is not enough?Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?Why doesn't glue stick to the bottle?Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?Why doesn't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7199759598952119762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7199759598952119762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/08/important-questions.html' title='IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3039264294126996449</id><published>2008-08-07T09:45:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T09:45:44.465-04:00</updated><title type='text'>AMAZINGLY SIMPLE HOME REMEDIES</title><summary type='text'>1. If you are choking on an ice cube,  don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto. The  blockage will be almost   instantly removed.2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting  yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you  chop away.3. Avoid arguments with your partner about lifting the toilet  seat by simply using the sink4. For high blood </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3039264294126996449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3039264294126996449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/08/amazingly-simple-home-remedies.html' title='AMAZINGLY SIMPLE HOME REMEDIES'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7213499894964443238</id><published>2008-07-17T08:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T08:46:58.318-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I decided to retire when I did...</title><summary type='text'>1. My first job was working in an Orange Juice Factory, but I got canned.  I couldn''t concentrate.    2. Then I worked in the woods as a Lumberjack, but I just couldn''t hack it, so they gave me the axe.    3. After that, I tried to be a Tailor, but I just wasn''t suited for it; —mainly because it was a sew-sew job.    4. Next, I tried working in a Muffler Factory, but that was too exhausting.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7213499894964443238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7213499894964443238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/07/why-i-decided-to-retire-when-i-did.html' title='Why I decided to retire when I did...'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5843756606635634591</id><published>2008-07-08T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T10:53:10.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Boys, Old Men, Peas &amp; Marbles</title><summary type='text'>I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean,hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh greenpeas.I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, Icouldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5843756606635634591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5843756606635634591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/07/little-boys-old-men-peas-marbles.html' title='Little Boys, Old Men, Peas &amp; Marbles'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2599528748583436638</id><published>2008-07-06T20:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T20:09:13.055-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuti Homini</title><summary type='text'> The  Pope was finishing his sermon.  He ended it with the Latin phrase,  'Tuti Homini' - Blessed be  Mankind.         A women's rights    group approached the Pope the next day.  They had noticed that the    pope blessed all Mankind but not Womankind.     The    next day, after His sermon, the Pope concluded by saying, 'Tuti Homini, et    Tuti Femini' - Blessed be Mankind and Womankind.     The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2599528748583436638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2599528748583436638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/07/tuti-homini.html' title='Tuti Homini'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4868002252259184046</id><published>2008-06-22T18:15:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T18:15:44.359-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mugger</title><summary type='text'>Late one night in the Washington D.C. a mugger wearing a ski mask jumped into the path of a well-dressed man and stuck a gun in his ribs."Give me your money," he demanded.Indignant, the affluent man replied, "You can't do this - I'm a US Congressman!""In that case," replied the robber, "give me MY money!"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4868002252259184046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4868002252259184046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/mugger.html' title='Mugger'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7979236799529272376</id><published>2008-06-21T21:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T21:47:20.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'>50 Years of Marriage</title><summary type='text'>Well there was this couple who had been married for50 years. They were sitting at the breakfast tablethat morning when the old gentleman said to his wife,"Just think, honey, we've been married for 50 years.""Yeah", she replied, "Just think, fifty years ago wewere sitting here at this breakfast table together.""I know", the old man said, "We were probably sittinghere naked as jaybirds fifty years </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7979236799529272376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7979236799529272376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/50-years-of-marriage.html' title='50 Years of Marriage'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2039469171188413368</id><published>2008-06-11T08:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T08:23:58.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Abby</title><summary type='text'>I am a 60-year-old woman who is married to a man who acts like he hates me.In public, he pretends he loves me and talks about how wonderful I am. Butin private, he shakes his finger in my face and calls me the "B" word. Heconstantly tells me how ugly I am without make-up. I've tried everything,including a face-lift, botox treatments, and a chin tuck. I even went on adiet and lost 20 pounds.He </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2039469171188413368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2039469171188413368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/dear-abby.html' title='Dear Abby'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7757833841762376437</id><published>2008-06-09T10:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:43:05.478-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Timer</title><summary type='text'>Two guys, one old timer and one young, are pushing their carts around Home Depot Building Supply when they collide.  The old timer says to the young guy, 'Sorry about that. I'm looking for my wife, and I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. The young guy says, 'That's OK. It's a coincidence. I'm looking for my wife, too. I can't find her and I'm getting a little desperate.'The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7757833841762376437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7757833841762376437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/old-timer.html' title='Old Timer'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-36859322795134526</id><published>2008-06-09T10:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:41:30.692-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shipwrecked</title><summary type='text'>A man was washed up on a beach after a terrible shipwreck. Only a sheep and a sheepdog were washed up with him. After looking around, he realized that they were stranded on a deserted island. After being there awhile, he got into the habit of taking his two animal companions to the beach every evening to watch the sunset. One particular evening, the sky was a fiery red with beautiful cirrus </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/36859322795134526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/36859322795134526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/shipwrecked.html' title='Shipwrecked'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2220754900753101284</id><published>2008-06-09T10:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:41:00.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stranded</title><summary type='text'>One day an Irishman who had been stranded on adeserted island for over 10 years, saw a speck onthe horizon. He thought to himself, "It's certainlynot a ship." And, as the speck got closer andcloser, he began to rule out the possibilities of asmall boat or even a raft.Suddenly there emerged from the surf a wet-suitedblack clad figure. Putting aside the scuba gear,there stood a drop-dead gorgeous </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2220754900753101284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2220754900753101284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/stranded.html' title='Stranded'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-293736323346471273</id><published>2008-06-09T10:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:40:12.481-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Politics Explained</title><summary type='text'>FEUDALISM: You have two cows. Your lord takes some of the milk.PURE SOCIALISM: You have two cows. The government takes them and putsthemin a barn with everyone else's cows. You have to take care of all ofthecows. The government gives you as much milk as you need.BUREAUCRATIC SOCIALISM: You have two cows. The government takes themand putthem in a barn with everyone else's cows. They are cared for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/293736323346471273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/293736323346471273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/politics-explained.html' title='Politics Explained'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1765947300248045012</id><published>2008-06-09T10:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:39:55.899-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TWO OLD MEN</title><summary type='text'>TWO OLD MEN DECIDE THEY ARE CLOSE TO THEIR LAST  DAYS AND DECIDE TO HAVE A LAST NIGHT ON THE TOWN.AFTER A FEW DRINKS, THEY END UP AT THE LOCAL BROTHELTHE MADAM TAKES ONE LOOK AT THE TWO OLD GEEZERS  AND WHISPERS TO HER MANAGER, 'GO UP TO THE FIRST  TWO BEDROOMS AND PUT AN INFLATED DOLL IN EACH BED.THESE TWO ARE SO OLD AND DRUNK, I'M NOT WASTING  TWO OF MY GIRLS ON THEM. THEY WON'T KNOW  THE </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1765947300248045012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1765947300248045012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/two-old-men.html' title='TWO OLD MEN'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-292398977607909107</id><published>2008-06-09T10:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:37:42.988-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day at the Counselor</title><summary type='text'>A husband and wife came for counseling after 20 years of marriage. When asked what the problem was, the wife went into a passionate, painful tirade listing every problem they had ever had in the 20 years they had been married.She went on and on and on: neglect, lack of intimacy, emptiness, loneliness, feeling unloved and unlovable, an entire laundry list of unmet needs she had endured over the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/292398977607909107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/292398977607909107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-at-counselor.html' title='A Day at the Counselor'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3545751002069399291</id><published>2008-06-09T10:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:34:44.678-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bear Warning</title><summary type='text'>In light of the rising frequency of human conflicts with bears in the field, the Department of Fish and Game is advising hikers, hunters, and fishermen to take extra precautions and be observant.They advise that outdoorsmen wear noisy little bells on their clothing, so as not to startle bears that aren't expecting them. They also advise outdoorsmen to carry pepper spray with them in case of an </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3545751002069399291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3545751002069399291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/bear-warning.html' title='Bear Warning'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2862177806315406166</id><published>2008-06-08T08:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T08:42:51.411-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Southern Baptist Bra</title><summary type='text'>A man walks into the lingerie department of Macy's in New York City. He tells the sales lady, 'I would like a Southern Baptist bra for my wife, size 34B.'      With a quizzical look the sales lady asks, 'What kind of bra?'      He repeats, 'A Southern Baptist bra. My wife said to tell you that she wanted a Southern Baptist bra, and that you would know what she wanted.'      'Oh, yes, now I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2862177806315406166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2862177806315406166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/southern-baptist-bra.html' title='The Southern Baptist Bra'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-986013133790622634</id><published>2008-06-08T08:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T08:39:34.029-04:00</updated><title type='text'>DEAR ABBY ADMITTED SHE WAS AT A LOSS TO ANSWER THE FOLLOWING!</title><summary type='text'>Dear Abby, A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is amiddle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid twenties.These two women go everywhere together and I've never seen a man go into orleave their apartment. Do you think they could be Lebanese?Dear Abby, What can I do about all the Sex, Nudity, Fowl Language and ViolenceOn My VCR?Dear Abby, I have a man I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/986013133790622634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/986013133790622634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/dear-abby-admitted-she-was-at-loss-to.html' title='DEAR ABBY ADMITTED SHE WAS AT A LOSS TO ANSWER THE FOLLOWING!'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8646631412908240101</id><published>2008-06-05T09:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T09:05:43.147-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Olympic Wrestling Matchup</title><summary type='text'>An Olympic wrestler from the United States is aboutto face the international champion, a huge Russian,in his weight class. As the match is about to begin,his coach warns him, "Don't let him get you into theDouble Pretzel Bend -- no one can get out of that holdonce it's applied!"  The wrestler agrees to do his bestand runs to the center of the mat to meet his opponent.Well, the match starts and as</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8646631412908240101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8646631412908240101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/06/olympic-wrestling-matchup.html' title='Olympic Wrestling Matchup'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2063509847803939235</id><published>2008-05-30T12:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T12:58:04.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie</title><summary type='text'>One day a father gets out of work and on his way home he suddenly remembers that it's his daughter's birthday. He pulls over to a Toy Shop and asks the sales person, "How much for one of those Barbie's in the display window?"The salesperson answers, "Which one do you mean, Sir? We have: Work Out Barbie for $19.95, Shopping Barbie for $19.95, Beach Barbie for $19.95, Disco Barbie for $19.95, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2063509847803939235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2063509847803939235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/05/barbie.html' title='Barbie'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7972455804909164576</id><published>2008-05-15T09:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T09:25:07.532-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two little boys</title><summary type='text'>After a hardy rainstorm filled all the potholes in the streets and alleys, a young mother watched her two little boys playing in the puddle through her kitchen window. The older of the two, a five year old lad, grabbed his sibling by the back of his head and shoved his face into the water hole. As the boy recovered and stood laughing and dripping, the mother runs to the yard in a panic. " Why on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7972455804909164576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7972455804909164576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/05/two-little-boys.html' title='Two little boys'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5621534857448491661</id><published>2008-05-10T08:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T08:48:00.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Husband</title><summary type='text'>Rick was in trouble. He forgot hiswedding anniversary. His wife was really angry. Shetold him ' Tomorrow morning, I expect to find a giftin the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in less than 6seconds, AND IT BETTER BE THERE!!' The next morningRick got up early and left for work. When his wifewoke, she looked out the window and sure enough therewas a box gift-wrapped in  the middle of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5621534857448491661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5621534857448491661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/05/missing-husband.html' title='Missing Husband'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4164099499429320775</id><published>2008-03-28T08:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:20:17.542-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Outhouse</title><summary type='text'>Ma was in the kitchen fiddling aroundwhen she hollers out...."Pa! You need to go out and fix the outhouse!"Pa replies, "There ain't nuthin wrong with the outhouse."Ma yells back, "Yes there is, now git out there and fix it."So......Pa mosies out to the outhouse,looks around and yells back, "Ma! There ain't nuthinwrong with the outhouse! "Ma replies, "Stick yur head in the hole!"Pa yells back, "I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4164099499429320775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4164099499429320775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/outhouse.html' title='The Outhouse'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5903370582744277104</id><published>2008-03-28T08:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:18:28.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Words....New Meanings</title><summary type='text'>1. Coffee: (n.) the person upon whom one coughs.2. Flabbergasted: (adj.) appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.3. Abdicate: (v.) to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.4. Esplanade: (v.) to attempt an explanation while drunk.5. Willy-Nilly: (adj.) impotent.6. Negligent: (adj.) absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.7. Lymph: (v.) to walk with a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5903370582744277104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5903370582744277104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/old-wordsnew-meanings.html' title='Old Words....New Meanings'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5628534394346209163</id><published>2008-03-24T11:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T11:01:50.501-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Polite Way to Pee</title><summary type='text'>During one of her daily classes, a teacher trying to  teach good manners, asked her students the following question: "Michael, if  you were on a date having dinner with a nice young lady, how would you tell her  that you have to go to the bathroom? "Michael said, "Just a minute I have to go  pee."  The teacher responded by saying, "That would be rude and impolite. What  about you Sherman, how </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5628534394346209163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5628534394346209163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/polite-way-to-pee.html' title='The Polite Way to Pee'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5289094597205945722</id><published>2008-03-04T13:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T13:28:33.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LEAVING WORK EARLY</title><summary type='text'>Three girls all worked in the same office with the same female Boss.Each day, they noticed the boss left work early. One day, the girlsdecided that, when the boss left, they would leave right behind her.After all, she never called or came back to work, so how would she knowThey went home early?The brunette was thrilled to be home early. She did a little gardening,spent playtime with her son, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5289094597205945722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5289094597205945722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/leaving-work-early.html' title='LEAVING WORK EARLY'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8115770336253724551</id><published>2008-03-01T20:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T20:44:35.285-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Young Love</title><summary type='text'>Little Johnny had a next door neighbor, Little Susie.They had been telling everyone that they were goingto get married. One day Susie's Dad was mowing hisyard and saw Little Johnny playing next door.He called the boy over to the fence, and said, "Johnny,I hear that you're going to marry my daughter."Johnny said, "Yes, Sir. We're gonna get married."Susie's father asked, "How do you intend to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8115770336253724551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8115770336253724551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/young-love.html' title='Young Love'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-9064910503293949002</id><published>2008-03-01T20:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T20:43:28.411-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Perhaps the best scam ever</title><summary type='text'>    It is amazing what kind kind of brilliant scams people thing of.  Australian Police have been unable to recommend a prosecution for the following scam. A company takes out a newspaper advertisement claiming to be able to supply imported hard core pornographic videos. As their prices seem reasonable, people place orders and make payments via check. After several weeks, the company writes back </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/9064910503293949002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/9064910503293949002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/03/perhaps-best-scam-ever.html' title='Perhaps the best scam ever'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2107551410536018632</id><published>2008-02-27T08:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T08:54:01.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Man and the Rocking Chair</title><summary type='text'>A man came walking up to his grandparent's house whenhe noticed his grandfather sitting on the porch, ina rocking chair, with nothing on from the waist down."Grandpa, what are you doing?" he exclaimed. The oldman looked off in the distance without answering."Grandpa, what are you doing sitting out here with nothingon below the waist?" he asked again.The old man slowly looked at him and said, "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2107551410536018632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2107551410536018632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/old-man-and-rocking-chair.html' title='Old Man and the Rocking Chair'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-626090792519758542</id><published>2008-02-18T08:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T08:34:51.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven's New Acceptance Policy</title><summary type='text'>It was getting a little crowded in Heaven, so God decided to change theadmittance policy. The new law was that, in order to get into Heaven, you had tohave a really bad day on the day that you died. The policy would go into effectat noon the next day.So, the next day at 12:01 the first person came to the gates of Heaven. TheAngel at the gate, remembering the new policy, promptly asked the man, '</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/626090792519758542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/626090792519758542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/heavens-new-acceptance-policy.html' title='Heaven&apos;s New Acceptance Policy'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2214395377820120455</id><published>2008-02-13T07:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T07:48:06.474-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MORNING SEX</title><summary type='text'>She was in the kitchen p reparing to boil eggs for breakfast.He walked in; She turned and said,You've got to make love to me this very moment."His eyes lit up and he thought,"This is my lucky day."Not wanting to lose the moment, he embraced herAnd then gave it his all;Right there on the kitchen table.Afterwards she said,"Thanks,"And returned to the stove.More than a little pu zzled, he asked,"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2214395377820120455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2214395377820120455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/morning-sex.html' title='MORNING SEX'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5644212772776599557</id><published>2008-02-10T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T20:13:21.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE HORTH WHITHPERER</title><summary type='text'>A guy calls his buddy, the horse rancher, and says he's sending a friend over to look at a horse.    His buddy asks, "How will I recognize him?"  "That's easy; he's a midget with a speech impediment."  So, the midget shows up, and the guy asks him if he's looking for a male or female horse. "A female horth."  So he shows him a prized filly. "Nith lookin horth. Can I thee her eyeth"? So the guy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5644212772776599557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5644212772776599557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/horth-whithperer.html' title='THE HORTH WHITHPERER'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2494541176091625092</id><published>2008-02-10T12:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T12:19:02.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch for these consolidations in 2008</title><summary type='text'>1) Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush and W. R. Grace Co. Will merge and become:    Hale, Mary, Fuller, Grace.2) PolyGram Records, Warner Bros., and Zest Crackers join forces and become:    Poly, Warner, Cracker.3) 3M will merge with Goodyear and become:    MMMGood.4) Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining will merge and become:    ZipAudiDoDa .5) FedEx </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2494541176091625092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2494541176091625092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/watch-for-these-consolidations-in-2008.html' title='Watch for these consolidations in 2008'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3789511423451371780</id><published>2008-02-10T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T08:09:25.874-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Philly Cop vs. New York Lawyer</title><summary type='text'>A lawyer runs a stop sign and gets pulled over by a Philly cop. He thinks that he is smarter than the cop because he is a lawyer from New York and is certain that he has a better education then any cop from Philadelphia, Pa. He decides to prove this to himself and have some fun at the Philly cop's expense.The cop says," License and registration, please.""What for?" says the lawyer.The cop says, "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3789511423451371780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3789511423451371780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/philly-cop-vs-new-york-lawyer.html' title='Philly Cop vs. New York Lawyer'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5167301075472067017</id><published>2008-02-10T08:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T08:05:37.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleaning the toilet</title><summary type='text'>                 1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.  2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.  3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.  4. T he cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5167301075472067017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5167301075472067017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/02/cleaning-toilet.html' title='Cleaning the toilet'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3004084056557476512</id><published>2008-01-21T20:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T20:20:12.702-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the pain!</title><summary type='text'>A pastor asked if any one in the congregation would like to express Praise for answered prayers.A lady stood and walked to the podium. She said, "I have a praise.    Two months ago, my husband, Jim, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was smashed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn't know if they could help him."You could hear an audible gasp from the men in the congregation </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3004084056557476512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3004084056557476512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/oh-pain.html' title='Oh the pain!'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7587496047257135733</id><published>2008-01-20T07:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T07:48:39.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tour of the South</title><summary type='text'>  Of course Georgia has no problems!        Alabama:           A group of Alabama friends went deer hunting and paired off in twos for the day. That night, one of the hunters returned alone, staggering under the weight of an eight-point buck'Where's Henry?' the others asked.          'Henry had a stroke of some kind He's a couple of miles back up the trail,' the successful hunter replied.'</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7587496047257135733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7587496047257135733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/tour-of-south.html' title='Tour of the South'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2835271414559040041</id><published>2008-01-16T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T10:28:11.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Eulogy of Common Sense</title><summary type='text'>London Times Obituary of the late Mr. Common Sense Interesting and sadlyrather true. 'Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who hasbeen with us for many years.  No one knows for sure how old he was, sincehis birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.  He will beremembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as: Knowing when tocome in out of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2835271414559040041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2835271414559040041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/eulogy-of-common-sense.html' title='The Eulogy of Common Sense'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-4612701434364282248</id><published>2008-01-14T07:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T07:51:49.762-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tooth</title><summary type='text'>A man and his wife entered a dentist's office.The wife said, "I need a tooth pulled. I don't want any Nitrous or Novocain because I'm in a terrible hurry.I just want the tooth pulled as quickly as possible.""You're a brave woman," said the dentist."Now, show me which tooth it is."The wife turns to her husband and says:"Open your mouth and show the dentistwhich tooth it is, dear."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4612701434364282248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/4612701434364282248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/tooth.html' title='Tooth'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2006013368045576198</id><published>2008-01-14T07:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T07:51:01.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FIREARMS REFRESHER COURSE</title><summary type='text'>'Those who hammer their guns into plows will plow for thosewho do not.' ~ Thomas JeffersonAn armed man is a citizen. An unarmed man is a subject.A gun in the hand is better than a cop on the phone.Gun control is not about guns, it's about control.If guns cause crime, then pencils cause misspelled words.Free men do not ask permission to bear arms.If you don't know your rights, you don't have </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2006013368045576198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2006013368045576198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/firearms-refresher-course.html' title='FIREARMS REFRESHER COURSE'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-7199315694472650422</id><published>2008-01-14T07:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T07:48:47.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Southern Terrorist Advisory Atlanta</title><summary type='text'>The governors of Alabama, South Carolina, Arkansas, Georgia, andMississippi announced today that they have made a disturbingdiscovery in their states. Apparently, a small number of Al Qaedaterrorists have become romantically involved with local redneck girls.The result is not pretty and they now have the sad task of reportingthe creation of a new sector of the human race: Islamabubbas.So far, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7199315694472650422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/7199315694472650422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2008/01/southern-terrorist-advisory-atlanta.html' title='Southern Terrorist Advisory Atlanta'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8924992140884693909</id><published>2007-12-12T22:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T22:56:15.612-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Risque Riddles</title><summary type='text'>Q. What is the difference between a drug dealer and a hooker?A. A hooker can wash her crack and sell it again.Q. What's a mixed feeling?A. When you see your mother-in-law backing off a cliff in your new car.Q. What's the height of conceit?A. Having an orgasm and calling out your own name.Q. What's the definition of macho?A. Jogging home from your vasectomy.Q. What's the difference between a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8924992140884693909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8924992140884693909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/12/risque-riddles.html' title='Risque Riddles'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-3429102181864410517</id><published>2007-11-24T23:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T23:04:37.915-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gobble, Gobble, Gobble</title><summary type='text'>A game warden was driving down the road when he came upon a young boy carrying a wild turkey under his arm. He stopped and asked the boy,  "Where did you get that turkey?"  The boy replied, "What turkey?"  The game warden said, "That turkey you're carrying under your arm."  The boy look down and said, "Well, lookee here, a turkey done roosted under my arm!"  The game warden said, "Now look, you </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3429102181864410517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/3429102181864410517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/gobble-gobble-gobble.html' title='Gobble, Gobble, Gobble'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-689787387354225244</id><published>2007-11-13T08:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T08:06:46.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brokeback Huntin' Camp</title><summary type='text'>The guys were all at a deer camp. They had to bunk two to a room. Noone wanted to room with Daryl because he snored so badly.They decided it wasn't fair to make one of them stay with him the wholetime, so they voted to take turns.The first guy slept with Daryl and comes to breakfast the next morningwith his hair a mess and his eyes all bloodshot.They said,"Man, what happened to you?"He said, "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/689787387354225244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/689787387354225244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/brokeback-huntin-camp.html' title='Brokeback Huntin&apos; Camp'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5847054726987827979</id><published>2007-11-13T08:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T08:06:08.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Feed a Cat A Pill</title><summary type='text'>1. Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of yourleft arm as if holding a baby. Position rightforefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouthand gently apply pressure to cheeks while holdingpill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pillinto mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behindsofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.3. Retrieve </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5847054726987827979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5847054726987827979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-to-feed-cat-pill.html' title='How to Feed a Cat A Pill'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1365941956083261442</id><published>2007-11-13T08:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T08:04:34.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Dwarves</title><summary type='text'>The Seven Dwarves walk up to a Nunnery and huddle outside the door to discuss something. Then Doc walks upto the door and knocks. The Mother Superior opens thedoor and Doc asks her if the are any 3 ft nuns in thisnunnery. The mother superior looks at him funny andsays, "There are no 3 ft nuns here."Doc thanks her and goes back to the group and they huddleagain making all sorts of whispering </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1365941956083261442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1365941956083261442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/seven-dwarves.html' title='Seven Dwarves'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-5775071373056048559</id><published>2007-11-13T07:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T07:59:59.425-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Einstein's Misquoted Theory</title><summary type='text'>March 19 was Einstein's birthday. He would have been 128. Few people remember that the Nobel Prize winner married his cousin, Elsa Lowenthal, after his first marriage dissolved in 1919. He stated that he was attracted to Elsa because she was well endowed. He postulated that if you are attracted to women with large breasts, the attraction is even stronger if there is a DNA connection.  This came </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5775071373056048559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/5775071373056048559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/einsteins-misquoted-theory.html' title='Einstein&apos;s Misquoted Theory'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6579104404542898697</id><published>2007-11-13T07:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T07:49:28.613-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beatings'/><title type='text'>Let the beatings begin</title><summary type='text'>Atlanta, Ga. (AP) -A nine-year old boy was at the center of a Douglas County courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with child custody law and regulation requiring that family unity be maintained to the  highest degree </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6579104404542898697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6579104404542898697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/11/let-beatings-begin.html' title='Let the beatings begin'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2282186141484648841</id><published>2007-10-12T08:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T08:43:30.924-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Honeymoon Night</title><summary type='text'>Fred and Mary got married but couldn't afford a honeymoon so they go back to Fred's Mom and Dad's for their first night together.  In the morning, Johnny, Fred's little brother, gets up and has his breakfast.  As he is going out of the door to go to school, he asks his mom if Fred and Mary are up yet.  She replies, "No".  Johnny asks, "Do you know what I think?"  His mom replies, "I don't want to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2282186141484648841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2282186141484648841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/10/honeymoon-night.html' title='Honeymoon Night'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-2941349356949490190</id><published>2007-09-24T19:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T19:55:32.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>YOUR HAIR SMELLS GOOD!</title><summary type='text'>Every day, a male co-worker walks up very close to a lady standing at the coffee machine, inhales a big breath of air and tells her that her hair smells nice.After a week of this, she can't stand it anymore, takes her complaint to a supervisor in Human Resources and states that she wants to file a sexual harassment grievance against him. The Human Resources supervisor is puzzled by this decision </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2941349356949490190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/2941349356949490190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/09/your-hair-smells-good.html' title='YOUR HAIR SMELLS GOOD!'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6664531264355463546</id><published>2007-09-14T11:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T11:05:25.262-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Costume Ball</title><summary type='text'>A man with a bald head and a wooden leg gets invitedto a fancy costume ball. He doesn't know what to wearto hide his head and his leg, so he writes to a costumecompany and explains the problem.A few days later he receives a parcel with a note."Dear Sir, please find enclosed a pirates outfit. Thespotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and withyour wooden leg you will be just right as a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6664531264355463546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6664531264355463546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/09/costume-ball.html' title='Costume Ball'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-6035488524601683340</id><published>2007-08-16T20:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:05:34.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Your Mama's Chili...</title><summary type='text'>A young cowboy walks into the town cafe. He sits at the counter and notices an old cowboy with his arms folded, staring blankly at a full bowl of chili.After fifteen minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the young cowboy bravely asked the old cowpoke, "If you ain't gonna eat that, mind if I do?"The older cowboy slowly turns his head toward the young wrangler and in his best cowboy manner </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6035488524601683340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/6035488524601683340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/08/not-your-mamas-chili.html' title='Not Your Mama&apos;s Chili...'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-1001271282638843963</id><published>2007-08-13T07:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T07:57:21.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chemical Analysis</title><summary type='text'>HAZARDOUS MATERIALS INFORMATION SYSTEM - MATERIAL SAFETYDATA SHEETWOMEN: A Chemical AnalysisELEMENT:       WomanSYMBOL:        WoDISCOVERER:    AdamATOMIC MASS:   Accepted as 118 lbs., but known to varyfrom 75 to 550 lbs.OCCURRENCE:    Copious quantities throughout the worldPHYSICAL PROPERTIES:1. Surface usually covered with a painted film.2. Boils at nothing, freezes without reason.3. Melts if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1001271282638843963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/1001271282638843963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/08/chemical-analysis.html' title='Chemical Analysis'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-8293793564539845276</id><published>2007-08-13T07:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T07:55:23.787-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Political Differences</title><summary type='text'>Sometimes it is difficult for a few of you to tell the difference between Republicans &amp;Democrats.  Here is simple illustration of the difference between the twoparties.....................Fred Thompson and Hillary Clinton were walking down the street when they came to ahomeless person.  The Republican, Fred Thompson, gave the homeless personhis business card and told him to come to his office for</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8293793564539845276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/8293793564539845276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/08/political-differences.html' title='Political Differences'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-473057490110177684</id><published>2007-08-13T07:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T08:01:29.389-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THE HILLBILLY VASECTOMY</title><summary type='text'>After their 11th child, a Kentucky couple decided that was enough, as they could not afford a larger bed.So the husband went to his physician and told him that he and his cousin didn't want to have any more children.The doctor told him that there was a procedure called a vasectomy that could fix the problem but that it was expensive. "A less costly alternative," said the doctor, "is to go home, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/473057490110177684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/473057490110177684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/08/hillbilly-vasectomy.html' title='THE HILLBILLY VASECTOMY'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33116594.post-773501661341829165</id><published>2007-08-13T07:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T07:54:05.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two-Story House</title><summary type='text'>A man appears before a judge one day, asking for a divorce.The judge quietly reviews some papers and then says,"Please tell me why you are seeking a divorce.""Because," the man says,"I live in a two-story house."The Judge replies, "What kind of a reason is that? Whatis the big deal about a two-story house?"The man answers, "Well Judge, one story is 'I have aheadache' and the other story is 'It's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/773501661341829165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33116594/posts/default/773501661341829165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makemegrimace.blogspot.com/2007/08/two-story-house.html' title='Two-Story House'/><author><name>Kenny Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08968656381337712680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LCJr5G1k1DQ/TU4FWfb4rBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/50OK3KBNvhM/s220/KennyAvatar.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
