[sandgirl]

Diary of a Federal Employee

The following journal entry has been "borrowed" from a federal employee, whose name and occupation have been withheld for his or her protection.
Dear Diary,
Today was the same as any other day. I got to work 5 hours early in order to find parking in the Menial Federal Employee Parking Lot. It's mandatory that all employees park in the lot, although there are only 10 spots for 400 employees, but there is ample street parking. Then there is the Supervisor Lot, which has 50 spots for 2 supervisors.
Our cars will be immediately towed if we park in the Supervisor Lot. Actually, one of the two supervisors does nothing but make sure that nobody else parks in the Supervisor Lot. He's currently making a six figure salary. At the door, I had to show my building card to the security guard. He started telling me about his wife's problems. I told him I need to get to work, and he reminded me of the clause in my contract that stated that I have to listen to every story he wants to tell me.
Six hours later, I went upstairs to my office, and was docked for being late. I tried to explain to my supervisor about the security guard, and he had me fill out a Lame Excuse for being Late form. I filled it out, and he told me I had to mail it to him, even though he's in the office next door. I put the form in an envelope and was about to put it in my outbox for the mailboy to pick up, when I remembered that the mailboy would not be in today since he had to attend the Federal Mailboy's Workshop, so I went outside to mail it myself.
As I re-entered the building, the security guard stopped me and demanded to see my card, which I had accidentally left upstairs. Even though he had known me for years, he made me fill out a Lame Excuse for Thinking You Belong in this Building form, which made me agree that if I try to steal anything, I have to donate all my organs to the government.
As I handed him the form, I noticed a person wearing a ski mask, who was holding a crowbar, enter the building and freely go upstairs. I asked the security guard why he didn't stop the person, and he told me he's on a break. I went back upstairs, only to find my supervisor waiting for me, who was angry that I haven't done any work today. I tried to tell him why, but he made me fill out a Lame Excuse for Not Doing Any Work Today form.
After I threw out the form, I got to work. I was going to get to a stack of paperwork, when I noticed the many flashing lights on my phone, I answered one of the calls, and found out that person had been on hold since the Carter Administration. He asked me something about a form, and he what ethnicity to check, because of his multi-ethnic background, which was not covered on the form. I told him that if the form doesn't mention his exact situation, then his situation does not exist.
The next call came from someone who misplaced one of their forms, and needed another one. I then told her to call the Office of People Who Mail Forms to Losers Who Lose Them, and she told me that it closed because of budgetary constraints six years ago. I told her I was not the one who closed it, so she has no business complaining to me about it. I was about to answer another call, but my supervisor announced that today was Mailperson's Appreciation Day, and it was mandatory that we all attend a three hour reception honoring mailpeople.
We all went to the designated coffee room, where we each had to pay $35 for stale danish, and to listen to a mail-person who had been flown in (first class, I might add) from Argentina, who discussed the mail delivery in medieval Turkish society. I made the mistake of pointing out that in the Middle Ages, Turkey was known as the Byzantine Empire, and I was fined $50 for harrassing the guest speaker.
I answered two more calls, before being interrupted by my supervisor, who told me it was mandatory for me to go to a seminar on agricultural accounting, when I pointed out that I was not an accountant, nor did my job even remotely involve any kind of accounting. He told me that he does not care about a minor technicality.
After returning from the seminar, I was about to answer another call, when my supervisor announced that it was quitting time, and like every day, I had to fill out a So, You Think You're Going Home form that made me promise not to try to break in later that night and steal anything, and had me verify that I had not been deported today. As I left, I picked up my paycheck, and used that money to buy a pack of gum.

[Suncoast Guy]

There is a new virus going around, called "work." If you receive any sort of "work" at all, whether via email, Internet or simply handed to you by a colleague ... DO NOT OPEN IT.

This has been circulating around our building for months and those who have been tempted to open "work" or even look at "work" have found that their social life is deleted and their brain ceases to function properly.

If you do encounter "work" via email or are faced with any "work" at all, then to purge the virus, send an email to your boss with the words "I've had enough...

I'm off to the pub." The "work" should automatically be forgotten by your brain. If you receive "work" in paper-document form, simply lift the document and drag the "work" to your garbage can. Put on your hat and coat and skip to the nearest bar with two friends and order three pints of beer (or rum punch). After repeating this action 14 times, you will find that "work" will no longer be of any relevance to you and that "Scooby Doo" was the greatest cartoon ever.

Send this message to everyone in your address book. If you do NOT have anyone in your address book, then I'm afraid the "work" virus has already corrupted your life.

[Suncoast Guy]

Little Billy wanted $100 badly and prayed for two weeks but nothing happened.

Then he decided to write God a letter requesting the $100. When the postal authorities received the letter addressed to God, USA, they decided to send it to President Bush.

The President was so impressed, touched, and amused that he instructed his secretary to send Billy a $5.00 bill.

President Bush thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy.

Billy was delighted with the $5.00 and sat down to write a thank you note to God, which read:

Dear God,

Thank you very much for sending the money, however, I noticed that for some reason you had to send it through Washington D.C. and, as usual, those crooks deducted $95.00.

Thanks,

Billy

[Suncoast Guy]

Ladies and gentlemen, hobos and tramps,

Bug-eyed mosquitoes and bowlegged ants!

I'm about to tell you a story I've never heard before,

So pull up a chair and sit on the floor.

Admission is free, so pay at the door.

One fine day, in the middle of the night,

two, dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back, they faced each other,

drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

and saved the lives of the two dead boys.

If you don't believe my lies are true,

ask the blind man, he saw it too!

[sandgirl]

"~~The Images of Mother ~~ 4 YEARS OF AGE - My Mommy can do anything! 8 YEARS OF AGE - My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot! 12 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother doesn't really know quite everything. 14 YEARS OF AGE - Naturally, Mother doesn't know that, either. 16 YEARS OF AGE - Mother? She's hopelessly old-fashioned. 18 YEARS OF AGE - That old woman? She's way out of date! 25 YEARS OF AGE - Well, she might know a little bit about it! 35 YEARS OF AGE - Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion. 45 YEARS OF AGE - Wonder what Mom would have thought about it? 65 YEARS OF AGE - Wish I could talk it over with Mom. ".

[sandgirl]

A Catholic guy goes into the confessional box.
He notices on one side a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap.
On the other wall is a dazzling array of the finest Cuban cigars.
Then the priest comes in.
"Father, forgive me, for it's been a very long time since I've been to confession,
but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting these days."
The priest replies "Get out. You're on my side."

[Suncoast Guy]

An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy.

He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, "Pull, Nellie, pull!" Buddy didn't move.

Then the farmer hollered, "Pull, Buster, pull!" Buddy didn't respond.

Once more the farmer commanded, "Pull, Coco, pull!" Nothing.

Then the farmer nonchalantly said, "Pull, Buddy, pull!" And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch.

The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.

The farmer said, "Oh, Buddy is blind and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn't even try!"

[Rainbow Island]

A man is in bed with his wife when there is a rat-a-tat-tat on the door. He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it's half past three in the morning. "I'm not getting out of bed at this time," he thinks, and rolls over. Then, a louder knock follows.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" says his wife. So he drags himself out of bed and goes downstairs. He opens the door and there is a man standing at the door. It didn't take the homeowner long to realize the man was drunk.
"Hi there," slurs the stranger. "Can you give me a push??" "No, get lost. It's half past three. I was in bed," says the man and slams the door. He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says, "Dave, that wasn't very nice of you. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the baby sitter and you had to knock on that man's house to get us started again? What would have happened if he'd told us to get lost??"
"But the guy was drunk," says the husband.
"It doesn't matter," says the wife. "He needs our help and it would be the right thing to help him." So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed and goes downstairs. He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts, "Hey, do you still want a push??" And he hears a voice cry out, "Yeah, please."
So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts, "Where are you?" And the stranger replies, "I'm over here, on your swing."

[sandgirl]

The manager of a large office noticed a new man one day and told him to come into his office. "What's your name?" he asked the new guy. "John," the new guy replied.


The manager scowled, "Look... I don't know what kind of a namby-pamby place you worked before, but I don't call anyone by their first name. It breeds familiarity and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my employees by their last name only ... Smith, Jones, Baker ... That's all. I am to be referred to only as Mr. Robertson. Now that we got that straight, what is your last name?"


The new guy sighed, "Darling. My name is John Darling."


"Okay John, the next thing I want to tell you is . . . "

[sandgirl]

A great fruit cake recipie
You'll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whisky.Sample the whisky to check for quality.Take a large bowl. Check the whisky again. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again.Make sure the whisky is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a drewscriver.Sample the whisky to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whisky. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whisky again and go to bed.