He may have a government job . . .
On 10/02/2008 surfinclimb wrote:
>On 8/04/2005 nmonteith wrote:
>>Just a thought - posts like those contained in this thread is what will
>>get Chockstone banned from workplaces. If we try and keep it moderatly
>>clean (and climbing related) then all us office workers can keep surfing
>>these pages without the fear of it being banned from over-zelous IT managers.
>This might sound a little crazy but if youre being paid to work by someone
>shouldnt you be working and
>not goofing off on Chockstone?
Na you're right - that sounds like crazy talk.. stop talking crazy.. ;)
Do they pay you to work do they, I thought they paid me to sit here and look pretty??
I suck at both!!
It is all about how you justify your time on chockstone.
e.g. I'm doing a sociological study on the formation of internet based relationships.
I'm researching what climbers want so I can design the next big thing in climbing equipment.
I'm checking the image loading capabilities of our new I.T system so as to determine if we need to enhance said abilities in order to be able to read client emails and service their needs more efficiently.
I'm sampling the gender ratios in exteme outdoor activities.
I'm trying to determine the accountability usergroups impose upon landowners to help determine liability premiums. etc, etc, etc.....
I'm researching the 'extreme sport fraternity' so I can sell cars more effectively to them.
A young boy and a pedophile are walking through the woods on a dark night.
They are both spooked by the noises. And the boy says "I'm scared!"
They man replies "You're scared? I have to walk back through here alone!"
This was on the email today. Thought it was pretty funny....
A teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs to her class. She came to the part of the story where the first pig was trying to gather the building materials for his home. She read, " and so the pig went up to the man with a wheelbarrow and said: 'Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house? ""
The teacher then asked the class: "And what do you think the man said?"
One little boy raised his hand and said very matter-of-factly "I reckon the man would have said: "Well, f*ck me! A talking pig! ""
A great dane and a dachshund find themselves standing in a snowdrift.
"Brrr," says the Greatdane. "My paws are freezing."
"Don't whine to me," replies the dachshund. "I've got my own problems."
Smartest Man in the World
A doctor, a lawyer, a little boy and a priest were out for a Sunday afternoon flight on a small private plane. Suddenly, the plane developed engine trouble.
In spite of the best efforts of the pilot, the plane started to go down. Finally, the pilot grabbed a parachute, yelled to the passengers that they had better jump, and bailed out.
Unfortunately, there were only three parachutes remaining.
The doctor grabbed one and said "I'm a doctor, I save lives, so I must live," and jumped out.
The lawyer then said, "I'm a lawyer and lawyers are the smartest people in the world. I deserve to live."
He also grabbed a parachute and jumped.
The priest looked at the little boy and said, "My son, I've lived a long and full life. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. Take the last parachute and live in peace."
The little boy handed the parachute back to the priest and said, "Not to worry, Father. The 'smartest man in the world' just took off with my back pack."
Alright is Friday and I am bored waiting for the day to end!!
fter all of the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were three finalists for the CIA assasin position ó two men and one woman.
For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances. Inside this room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. You have to kill her."
The first man said. "You canít be serious. I could never shoot my wife."
The agent replies, "Then youíre not the right man for this job."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room.
All was quiet for about five minutes. Then the agent came out with tears in his eyes. "I tried, but I canít kill my wife."
The agent replies "You donít have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the womanís turn. Only she was told to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room.
Shots were heard, one shot after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls.
After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and said, "You guys didnít tell me the gun was loaded with blanks. So I had to beat him to death with the chair."
If we're onto the lawyer jokes:
What's the difference between a lawyer and an eel?
On'e a scum sucking bottom dweller and the other is a fish.
I don't normally forward charity e-mails, but this is a particularly good cause.
Mute Tourettes Syndrome has long been in the shadow of its more famous sister, 'Tourettes
Syndrome', and although much rarer, is more tragic.
While a child suffering Tourettes has difficulty containing anger and frustration, a child with Mute
Tourettes is unable to express their
feelings through speech.
There is, however, an answer.
A great deal has been achieved by the Mute Tourettes Foundation using art therapy techniques.
However, their work can only continue with your help. Just $1.00 will keep a child supplied with
crayons for a whole day.
Please view the attached project shot to see some of the great work you can help with.
>Seems to have got past the motherraters as well.
**motherrater found it**
[Image was a group of young kids sitting around a class room table. One was holding up a large page with a 'bad taste' swear word on it].
Yeah. That's funny. Seems to have got past the motherraters as well. Can't resist a good lawyer joke myself. As Shakespeare said: First of all, kill all the lawyers. (Henry VI)
But I have an engineer joke.
This engineer dies and goes to heaven. St Peter says, "we normally take engineers but we're full. You'll have to go downstairs."
Anyway, a year later God rings Satan for his yearly check in.
"How's it going bro?"
"Yeah, good, god. Hell's not as bad as it used to be. We've got airconditioning, moving sidewalks and austar."
"How did you get all that?"
"Well, you sent an engineer down here by mistake. He fixed the place up."
"Well you'll have to send him back. You're not supposed to have engineers."
"No. We like him. We're keeping him."
"Send him back or I'll sue."
"Yeah. And where are you going to get a lawyer?"
OK, I can't resist this one.
Hugh Grantt - some unknown Aussie actor who'd had a season in Blue Water High
The Old Scott - a gnarly old Scottish hardman
Another actor - TBA otherwise it will spoil the whole story
Hugh Grantt had been on holidays by himself in the Scottish Highlands. He's bagged a few hills and red pointed a whole pile of routes at the local crags. The locals loved him because he told them he was a successful plumber from Hammersmith, shouted the bar every night, and was fearless when climbing.
After a great week, Hugh was in his very expensive sports car, with the top down, winding his way through the Scottish Highlands back country, when a wizened Old Scott in a kilt jumps out in front of him on the road and wields a mighty Scottish war axe. Hugh brings the car to a screeching halt.
"Git outa ya carrr, orrr I'm gonna brrrreak it!" yells the Old Scott.
Hugh, appreciative of superb European car design, jumps out of his car.
"Watta ya doin herrrre and wherrrre arrrre ya goin!" yelled the Old Scott.
Hugh flicked his head so that his foppish floppy front fringe moved to the side of his face. "I've been mountain climbing (he thought that sounded a bit more macho) in the Highlands and I'm headed to Glasgow" confessed Hugh.
"Oh, so yarrrr a climberrrr and yarrr heading to Glasgow arrrrre ya" said the Old Scott. The Old Scott had been a bit of a climber (and still was - he'd solo some of the Old School routes when walking by himself in the hills), and had the measure of this climber before him. Sports car, poofy haircut, modern gear - peeeaaah!
"Git yarrr old fella out and have a wank!" Yelled the Old Scott.
Now Hugh was a bit taken aback. He had publicly performed in all kinds of places previously (1995, near Sunset Boulevard?). But he wasn't getting the kind of stimulation he needed here on a lonely road in the Highlands. "What was that?" sputtered Hugh.
"I said, git yarrr old fella out and have a wank!" yelled the Old Scott, "orrrr I'll use me warrrr axe herrrre to smash up yarrr fancy crag carrrr!".
Hugh realised he had no choice, and he actually appreciated the kinkiness of the situation, which helped the performance. "EEaaaarrrrgggh" said Hugh. When he got his composure, he straightened up and asked "can I go now?", while cracking a cheeky grin.
"Nay!" yelled the Old Scott "Ah wan yarrr to do it again!".
"What?" cried Hugh, deflated. When he'd been with some of those lovely young things on Blue Water High, he'd had no trouble with a repeat performance, but on a bleak road in the middle of nowhere doing this?
"I said, do it agin orrrrr I'll smash ya fancy carrrr ta bits!" yelled the Old Scott, starting to look a bit psycho.
Hugh again dug deep and found some repressed motivation which got him heading in the right direction. "Eeerrraaaggghaaa" breathed Hugh when the job was done. He was actually starting to feel a bit humiliated at his conduct, but it was a means to an end. "Can I go now?", he pleaded with the Old Scott.
"Nay" said the Old Scott, the memory of Bannockburn erupting deeply inside, "I know yourrrrr type - keep ya old fella wherrrrrre it is an do that one morrrre time...".
Hugh, unable to find motivation, pleaded for clemency. Once again, the Old Scott threatened to reshape his beautiful European sports car, and Hugh dug deep and found some final inspiration.
"EEEeeeeaaaarghhhhh!" yelled Hugh, as he blew mostly air. "I'm done".
"Yarrr done arrrre ye?" asked the Old Scott. "Do it agin orrrr aaahl cut ye balls orf".
"Really, I couldn't, I just couldn't" pleaded Hugh.
The Old Scott looked deep into Hugh's eyes. He'd seen that look before on seconders who just couldn't make it up Metalcore (5.14c). He pitied him.
"I'll do anything, anything you want" pleaded Hugh, "just don't make me do that again".
"Anything?", asked the Old Scott, softening a bit.
"Anything!", groveled Hugh.
The Old Scott lowered his axe, and moved to the side of the road where the Gorse grew thickly. He made a beckoning move to someone unseen in the darkest thicket. Out onto the road stepped a beautiful Scottish girl with flowing red hair, dressed for a special occasion.
"I was wonderrrring if ya could take ma daughterrrr to Glasgow wit ya", asked the Old Scott...
>**motherrater found it**
>[Image was a group of young kids sitting around a class room table. One
>was holding up a large page with a 'bad taste' swear word on it].
Truly, truly pathetic that this was "moderated".
On 23/02/2008 stugang wrote:
>>**motherrater found it**
>>[Image was a group of young kids sitting around a class room table. One
>>was holding up a large page with a 'bad taste' swear word on it].
>Truly, truly pathetic that this was "moderated".
Dear Mr stugang,
Please have some respect and consideration for the ladies and more gentle readers, who frequent this fabulous internet site.
I read that post the other day and I was quite shocked and horrified.
I fully agree with the kind moderators who took action on it and I thank them for that.
(MrsM10. to you).
You really are an Evil Benny aren't you.
Why I predict that if you continue posting such evil posts it would not surprise me in the least if you find your user disabled, and then find yourself the victim of some other misguided troll who thinks that kind of condition funny. Derek my ip-lost love can vouch for that!
(MrsM10. to you).
Truly, thou must taketh the piss?
I reckon this topic should be pretty much un-moderated. I have no idea who removed that picture...
Some more on Tourette's Syndrome:
This bloke with Tourette's Syndrome walks into the most exclusive
restaurant in town.
'Where's the pissing, mother f*cking manager, you c*ck sucking
arsewipe?' he inquires of one of the waiters.
The waiter is taken-aback and replies, 'Excuse me sir but could
you please refrain from using that sort of language in here. I
will get the manager as soon as I can'.
The manager comes over and the bloke asks, 'Are you the f*cking
manager of this b*stard place?'
'Yes sir, I am,' replies the manager, 'but I would prefer it if
you would refrain from speaking such profanities in this, a
'F*ck off' replies the bloke 'and where's the f*cking piano?'
'Pardon?' says the manager.
'F*cking deaf as well, are we? You sniveling little piece of
shit, show me your c*nting piano.'
'Ah,' replies the manager, 'you've come about the pianist job'
and he shows the bloke to the piano. 'Can you play any blues?'
'Of course I f*cking can,' and the bloke proceeds to play the
most inspiring and beautiful sounding honky-tonk blues that the
manager has ever heard.
'That's superb. What's it called?'
'I Tried To Shag Yer Missus On The Sofa But The Springs Kept
Hurting My Dick,' replies the bloke.
The manager is a bit disturbed and asks if the bloke knows any
jazz. The bloke proceeds, playing the most melancholy jazz solo
the manager has ever heard.
'Magnificent,' cries the manager. 'What's it called?'
'I Wanted A Wank Over The Washing Machine But I Got My Balls
Caught In The Soap Drawer'.
The manager is a tad embarrassed and asks if he knows any
romantic ballads. The bloke then plays the most heartbreaking
melody the manager has ever heard, 'And what's this called?' asks
'As I F*ck You Under The Stars With The Moonlight Shining Off
Your Hairy Ring-Piece,' replies the bloke.
The manager is highly upset by the bloke's language but offers
him the job on condition that he doesn't introduce any of his
songs or talk to any of the customers.
This arrangement works well for a couple of months until one
night, sitting opposite him, is the most gorgeous blonde he has
ever laid his eyes on.
She's wearing an almost see through dress, her breasts are almost
falling out the top of her black lace bra, and the skimpy little
'G' string she's wearing is doing very little to conceal her
ample charms. She's sitting there with her legs slightly open,
sucking suggestively on asparagus shoots as the butter is
dripping down her chin.
The image is too much for the bloke and he scurries off to the
Gents to masturbate. He's tugging away furiously when he hears
the manager's voice.
'Where's that b*stard pianist?'
He just has time to relieve himself, and in a fluster he runs
back to the piano having not bothered to adjust himself properly,
sits down and starts playing some more tunes.
The blonde steps up and walks over to the piano, leans over and
whispers in his ear,
'Do you know your knob and bollocks are hanging out your trousers
and dripping spunk on your shoes?'
'Know it?' the bloke replies 'I f*cking wrote it.'