<?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-3275502516368790314</id><updated>2012-01-25T14:46:32.679-08:00</updated><category term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Jokes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>339</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6890536523963929928</id><published>2012-01-25T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T14:46:32.711-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Wife comes home late</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Wife comes home late at night and quietly opens the door to her Bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;From under the blanket she sees four legs instead of two.&lt;br /&gt;She reaches for a Baseball Bat and starts hitting the blanket as hard as she can. Once she's done, she goes to the kitchen to have a drink.&lt;br /&gt;As she enters, she sees her husband there, reading a magazine.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi Darling", he says, "Your parents have come to visit us, so l let them stay in our bedroom. Hope you said Hello to them.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6890536523963929928?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6890536523963929928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6890536523963929928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2012/01/wife-comes-home-late.html' title='Wife comes home late'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3401873129637811410</id><published>2011-12-16T00:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T00:14:08.161-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Did the Priest lie?</title><content type='html'>A distinguished young woman on a flight from Ireland asked the Priest beside her:&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Father, may I ask a favor?" &lt;br /&gt;Priest: "Of course. What may I do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Well, I bought an expensive woman's electronic hair dryer for my mother's birthday that is unopened and well over the Customs limits, and I'm afraid they'll confiscate it. Is there any way you could carry it through Customs for me.......... Under your robe perhaps?"&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "I would love to help you, dear, but I must warn you: I will not lie." &lt;br /&gt;Woman: "With your honest face, Father, no one will question you." When they got to Customs, she let the priest go ahead of her.&lt;br /&gt;Custom Officer: "Father, do you have anything to declare?"&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "From the top of my head down to my waist, I have nothing to declare. " &lt;br /&gt;The official thought this answer strange. &lt;br /&gt;Custom Officer:: "And what do you have to declare from your waist to the floor?"&lt;br /&gt;Priest: "I have a marvelous instrument designed to be used on a woman, but which is, to date, unused."&lt;br /&gt;Custom Officer:: (Roaring with laughter, said) "Go ahead, Father." Next! &lt;br /&gt;Now............................................. truly, did the priest lie?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3401873129637811410?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3401873129637811410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3401873129637811410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/did-priest-lie.html' title='Did the Priest lie?'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6756168100663944659</id><published>2011-12-10T03:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T03:21:22.923-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>ID</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;President Obama walks into the Bank of America to cash a cheque. As he approaches the cashier he says "Good morning Ma'am, could you please cash this cheque for me"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cashier: "It would be my pleasUre sir. Could you please show me your ID"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Obama: "Truthfully, I did not bring my ID with me as I didn't think there was any need to. I am President Barrack Obama, the president of the United States of America !!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cashier: "Yes sir, I know who you are, but with all the regulations, monitoring, of the banks because of imposters and forgers, etc I must insist on seeing ID"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Obama: "Just ask anyone here at the bank who I am and they will tell you. Everybody knows who I am"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cashier: "I am sorry Mr. President but these are the bank rules and I must follow them."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Obama: "I am urging you please to cash this cheque"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cashier: "Look Mr. President this is what we can do: One day Tiger Woods came into the bank without ID. To prove he was Tiger WOods he pulled out his putting iron and made a beautiful shot across the bank into a cup. With that shot we knew him to be Tiger Woods and cashed his cheque. Another time, Andre Agassi came in without ID. He pulled out his tennis racquet and made a fabulous shot whereas the tennis ball landed in my cup. With that spectacular shot we cashed his cheque. So, Mr. President, what can you do to prove that it is you, and only you, as the President of the United States ?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Obama stood there thinking, and thinking and finally says: "Honestly, there is nothing that comes to my mind. I can't think of a single thing I can do."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cashier: "How do you want your money? Will that be large or small bills, Mr. President?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6756168100663944659?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6756168100663944659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6756168100663944659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/id.html' title='ID'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8289465396931724434</id><published>2011-12-06T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T14:50:04.582-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>EXCELLENT QUESTION FROM A SON TO A FATHER</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A young Arab asks his father, "What is that weird hat you are wearing?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The father said, "Why, it's a 'chichi' because in the desert it protects our heads from the sun."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"And what is this type of clothing that you are wearing?" asked the young man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It's a 'djbellah' because in the desert it is very hot and it protects the body." said the father.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The son asked, "And what about those ugly shoes on your feet?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;His father replied, "These are 'babouches", which keep us from burning our feet in the desert."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"So tell me then," added the boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Yes, my son?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Why are you living in Lakemba, Australia, and still wearing all this sh........?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8289465396931724434?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8289465396931724434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8289465396931724434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/excellent-question-from-son-to-father.html' title='EXCELLENT QUESTION FROM A SON TO A FATHER'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8849483220224271784</id><published>2011-12-06T13:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T13:20:36.175-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Business Is - Business (Jewish style)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day at kindergarten a Teacher said to the class of 5-year-olds,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"I'll give $10 to the child who can tell me who was the most famous man who ever lived." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A little Irish boy put his hand up and said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It was St. Patrick."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Teacher said, "Sorry Sean, that's not correct."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then a little Scottish boy put his hand up and said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It was St. Andrew."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Teacher replied, "I'm sorry, Hamish, that's not right either."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Finally, a little Jewish boy raised his hand and said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It was Jesus Christ."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The teacher said, "That's absolutely right, Marvin. Come up here and I'll give you the $10."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As the Teacher was giving Marvin his money, she said, "You know, Marvin, since you're Jewish, I was very surprised you said 'Jesus Christ'."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Marvin replied, "Yeah. In my heart, I knew it was Moses, but business is business".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8849483220224271784?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8849483220224271784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8849483220224271784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/12/business-is-business-jewish-style.html' title='Business Is - Business (Jewish style)'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7368419381435294278</id><published>2011-11-09T22:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T22:03:22.760-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Pregnant prostitute</title><content type='html'>Doctor asks a pregnant prostitute..&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know who the father is?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For goodness sakes, if you ate a tin of beans&lt;br /&gt;would you know which one made you fart?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7368419381435294278?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7368419381435294278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7368419381435294278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/11/pregnant-prostitute.html' title='Pregnant prostitute'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3719841157241443354</id><published>2011-10-19T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T04:06:25.078-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>An angrey husband</title><content type='html'>Angry husband is not satisfied with his wife &amp;amp; sends an sms (text) to his Mother in law. Your product is not matching my requirements. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Mother in law replies: - Warranty expired, manufacturer not responsible after seal is broken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3719841157241443354?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3719841157241443354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3719841157241443354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/10/angrey-husband.html' title='An angrey husband'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3510127112266902335</id><published>2011-10-14T00:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T00:08:24.565-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Best speeding excuse ever!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kRLnuvjtUmk/Tpff3h6_guI/AAAAAAAAM4o/V7QAozHx8I0/s1600/Preview1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="137" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kRLnuvjtUmk/Tpff3h6_guI/AAAAAAAAM4o/V7QAozHx8I0/s200/Preview1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When asked by a young patrol officer "Do You know you were speeding?" &lt;br /&gt;This 83-year-old woman gave the young officer an ear to ear smile and stated: &lt;br /&gt;"Yes , but .... I had to get there before I forgot where I was going."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3510127112266902335?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3510127112266902335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3510127112266902335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/10/best-speeding-excuse-ever.html' title='Best speeding excuse ever!'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kRLnuvjtUmk/Tpff3h6_guI/AAAAAAAAM4o/V7QAozHx8I0/s72-c/Preview1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4685127091421217175</id><published>2011-09-29T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T15:54:03.685-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Lunches</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;For the 1st time in their 3 year marriage, a wife asked her husband if he would mind making the next day's lunches for them both. Obligingly he agrees.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The next morning, the young wife asks her loving husband, 'Did you make our lunches, honey?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He replied, 'Yeah babe, they're on the second shelf of the fridge. Mine's on the left, yours is on the right.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Have a look at the photo…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;LOVE IT!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4685127091421217175?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4685127091421217175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4685127091421217175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/lunches.html' title='Lunches'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7566504818084897850</id><published>2011-09-27T16:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T16:33:36.568-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Lebanese in NY</title><content type='html'>A Lebanese man walked into a bank in New York City one day and asked for the loan officer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told the loan officer that he was going to Lebanon on business for two weeks and needed to borrow $5,000. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The bank officer told him that the bank would need some form of security for the loan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Lebanese man handed over the keys to a new Ferrari parked on the street in front of the bank. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He produced the title and everything checked out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The loan officer agreed to accept the car as collateral for the loan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The bank's president and its officers all enjoyed a good laugh at the Lebanese for using a $250,000 Ferrari as collateral against a $5,000 loan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;An employee of the bank then drove the Ferrari into the bank's underground garage and parked it there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Two weeks later, the Lebanese returned, repaid the $5,000 and the interest, which came to $15.41. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The loan officer said, 'Sir, we are very happy to have had your business, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;and this transaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a little puzzled. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a multi millionaire. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What puzzles us is, why would you bother to borrow '$5,000' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Lebanese replied: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Where else in New York City can I park my Ferrari for two weeks for only $15.41 and expect it to be there when I return''&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7566504818084897850?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7566504818084897850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7566504818084897850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/lebanese-in-ny.html' title='Lebanese in NY'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1638086549057431818</id><published>2011-09-20T17:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T17:43:43.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>pay increase</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*The Filipina maid asked for a pay increase*.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The wife was very upset about this and decided to talk to her about the raise. She asked:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Now Maria, why do you want a pay increase?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'Well, Mam, there are THREE REASONS why I want an increase. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The first is that I iron better than you.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: 'Who said you iron better than me?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'Your husband say so.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: 'Oh.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'The second reason is that I am a better cook than you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: 'Nonsense, who said you are a better cook than me?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'Your husband did.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: 'Oh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'The third reason is that I am better than you in bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: (really furious now) 'Ah! Did my husband say that as well?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maria: 'No Mam... Your driver says.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: 'Ok Ok, So how much do you want?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1638086549057431818?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1638086549057431818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1638086549057431818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/pay-increase.html' title='pay increase'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-481314325328988103</id><published>2011-09-13T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T16:19:00.544-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>A boss</title><content type='html'>The boss was complaining in our staff meeting the other day that he wasn't getting any respect.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, he brought a small sign that Read:&lt;br /&gt;"I'm the Boss!"&lt;br /&gt;He then taped it to his office door.&lt;br /&gt;Later that day when he returned from lunch, he found that someone had taped a note to the sign that said:&lt;br /&gt;"Your wife called, she wants her sign back !"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-481314325328988103?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/481314325328988103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/481314325328988103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/boss.html' title='A boss'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1495699798613799733</id><published>2011-09-11T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T16:15:00.315-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Yellow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I had been doing Tech Support for Hewlett-Packard' s DeskJet division for about a month when I had a customer call with a problem I just couldn't solve. She could not print yellow. All the other colors would print fine, which truly baffled me because the only true colors are cyan, magenta, and yellow. For instance, green is a combination of cyan and yellow, but green printed fine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Every color of the rainbow printed fine except for yellow. I had the customer change ink cartridges. I had the customer delete and reinstall the drivers. Nothing worked. I asked my co-workers for help; they offered no new ideas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After over two hours of troubleshooting, I was about to tell the customer to send the printer in to us for repair when she asked quietly, "Should I try printing on a piece of white paper instead of this "yellow" construction paper?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1495699798613799733?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1495699798613799733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1495699798613799733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/yellow.html' title='Yellow'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8701615630719561711</id><published>2011-09-09T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T16:12:00.358-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Under the wagon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A farm boy accidentally overturned his wagonload of corn. The farmer who lived nearby heard the noise and yelled over to the boy, "Hey Willis, forget your troubles. Come in and visit with us. I'll help you get the wagon up later."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"That's mighty nice of you," Willis answered, "but I don't think Pa would like me to."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Aw come on boy," the farmer insisted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Well okay," the boy finally agreed, and added, "but Pa won't like it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After a hearty dinner, Willis thanked his host. "I feel a lot better now, but I know Pa is going to be real upset."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Don't be foolish!" the neighbor said with a smile. "By the way, where is he?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Under the wagon."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8701615630719561711?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8701615630719561711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8701615630719561711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/under-wagon.html' title='Under the wagon'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2571092953859632495</id><published>2011-09-07T16:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T16:10:59.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Anyone,who thinks he's stupid,stand up"said the teacher to his students.After a long silence the most intelligent student in the class stood up,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Do you think you"re stupid?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The student repllied,"No, sir,but i coulden't bear the thought of you standing there all on your own".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2571092953859632495?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2571092953859632495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2571092953859632495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/09/stupid.html' title='Stupid'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8069289493912624018</id><published>2011-07-05T01:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T01:04:56.581-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Husband and Wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Husband: Do you know the meaning of WIFE? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It means, Without Information, Fighting Everytime! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: No darling, it means - With Idiot For Ever . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;** &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: I wish I was a newspaper, So I'd be in your hands all day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Husband: I too wish that you were a newspaper, So I could have a new one every day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;** &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Doctor: Your husband needs rest and peace. Here are some sleeping Pills. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: When must I give them to him? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Doctor: They are for you, so he can have his rest and peace. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;** &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wife: I had to marry you to find out how stupid you are.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Husband: You should have known it the minute I asked you to marry me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8069289493912624018?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8069289493912624018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8069289493912624018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/07/husband-and-wife.html' title='Husband and Wife'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2471535797987353846</id><published>2011-06-30T04:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T04:42:23.364-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Yes Lebanon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;An American decided to write a book about famous churches around the World. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;he bought a plane ticket and took a trip to China. On his first day he was inside a church taking photographs when He Noticed a golden telephone mounted on the wall with a sign that read "$10,000 per call".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The American, being intrigued, asked a priest who was strolling by what The telephone was used for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The priest replied that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 you could talk to God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The American thanked the priest and went along his way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Next stop was in Japan. There, at a very large cathedral, he saw the Same golden telephone with the same sign under it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He wondered if this was the same kind of telephone he saw in China and He asked a nearby Nun what its purpose was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 He Could talk to God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"O.K., thank you," said the American. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He then travelled to Spain, Italy, Russia, Germany and France. In every church he saw the same golden telephone with the same "$10,000 Per call" sign under it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The American, upon leaving Vermont decided to travel to up to Lebanon to See if Lebanese had the same phone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He arrived in Lebanon, Then he arrived Beirut the first church he entered, He saw there Was the same golden telephone, but this time the sign under it "One Dollar per call." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The American was surprised so he asked the priest about the sign..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Father, I've traveled all over World and I've seen this same GoldenTelephone in many churches. All of them told that it is a direct line to Heaven, But in Beirut the price was "One Dollar per call." Why is it so cheap here........?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The priest smiled and answered, "You're in Beirut now, the GOD's OWN COUNTRY, Son - it's a Local Call". This is the only heaven on Earth!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2471535797987353846?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2471535797987353846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2471535797987353846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/yes-lebanon.html' title='Yes Lebanon'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5596817185040213796</id><published>2011-06-28T23:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T23:49:00.208-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Big word</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A teacher asks her class to name things that end with 'tor' that eat things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The first little boy says, "Alligator."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Very good, that's a big word."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The second little girl says, "Predator."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Yes, that's another big word. Well done."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then little Johnny puts up his hand and says, "Vibrator."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After nearly falling off her chair, the teacher says, "That is a big word too, but I don't think we can count it because it doesn't eat anything."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Well my mom has one and she says it eats batteries like there's no tomorrow." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5596817185040213796?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5596817185040213796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5596817185040213796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/big-word.html' title='Big word'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6850034778541543862</id><published>2011-06-26T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T23:47:00.219-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Balloons</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Johnny is taking a shower with his mother and says,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Mom, what those things on your chest?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Unsure how to reply, she tells Johnny to ask his dad at breakfast tomorrow, quite certain the matter would be forgotten.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Johnny didn't forget. The following morning he asked&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;his father the same question.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;His father, always quick with the answers, says, "Why Johnny, those are balloons. When your mommy dies, we can blow them up and she'll float to heaven."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Johnny thinks that's neat and asks no more questions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A few weeks later, Johnny's dad comes home from work a few hours early. Johnny runs out of the house crying hysterically,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy's dying!" His father says, "Calm down son! Why do you think Mommy's dying?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Johnny replies, "Uncle Harry is blowing up Mommy's balloons and she's screaming 'Oh God, I'm coming!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6850034778541543862?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6850034778541543862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6850034778541543862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/balloons.html' title='Balloons'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2032826448450235720</id><published>2011-06-24T23:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T23:45:00.100-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Tickets</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Johnny's parents were out of town once and so they asked that young female teacher to stay for that time in their house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Before going to bed Johnny says to her "Oh, please,I'm so afraid to be by myself, please, sleep in my bed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She agrees, they go to bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the morning she wakes up to find a big hairy-chested man in her bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She exclaims: "Johnny? Where is Johnny?!!!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Johnny? Who is Johnny? Is that the little boy selling the tickets outside?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2032826448450235720?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2032826448450235720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2032826448450235720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/tickets.html' title='Tickets'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1455203379607705558</id><published>2011-06-22T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T23:44:01.104-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Dogs</title><content type='html'>Johnny and his father are observing a couple of dogs&amp;nbsp;macking love.&lt;br /&gt;"Dad, what're the dogs doing?" asks Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, the one below has relaxed and the one above has concentrated."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, I've understood."&lt;br /&gt;"What've you understood!?" asks the father sarcastically. &lt;br /&gt;"Never relax in your life, dad, or you'll get fu...d like a dog!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1455203379607705558?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1455203379607705558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1455203379607705558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/dogs.html' title='Dogs'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-388881133547574819</id><published>2011-06-20T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T23:42:01.274-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Noses</title><content type='html'>Litle Johnny and his li'l sister are peeping through a keyhole at their parents making love&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, look at them! And we are not allowed even to stick a finger in our nose!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-388881133547574819?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/388881133547574819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/388881133547574819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/noses.html' title='Noses'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2637901337883748687</id><published>2011-06-18T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T23:41:01.295-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Six</title><content type='html'>Johnny returns from school and says he got an F in arithmetics.&lt;br /&gt;"Why?" asks the father.&lt;br /&gt;"The teacher asked 'How much is 2x3?' I said '6'"&lt;br /&gt;"But that's right!" "Then she asked me 'How much is 3x2?" &lt;br /&gt;"What's the fu....ing difference?"&lt;br /&gt;"That's exactly what I said."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2637901337883748687?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2637901337883748687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2637901337883748687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/six.html' title='Six'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-908354884616864375</id><published>2011-06-16T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T23:39:00.256-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Roses</title><content type='html'>One day the teacher came to class with a rose placed in her cleavage.&lt;br /&gt;She asked, "Can anyone tell me what roses drink? How about you, Johnny?"&lt;br /&gt;"Milk!" answered Little Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;"No, I'm sorry. That's the wrong answer. Roses drink water," explained the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;"Wow!" Johnny exclaimed. "I didn't know the stem was that long!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-908354884616864375?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/908354884616864375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/908354884616864375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/roses.html' title='Roses'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8150159407502190986</id><published>2011-06-14T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T23:39:17.160-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>A Good lesson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The teacher at the beginning of the class says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"OK kids, we are going to talk about sexual education today. First we'll talk about how the human reproduction goes on..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Immediately, little Johnny raises his hand, and desperately tries to get the teacher's attention. But the teacher, knowing how little Johnny is about&amp;nbsp; these things, goes on...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"... First, a man a woman have to be in love... " But little Johny keeps his hand up, waving it up and down, and from one side to the other one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The teacher ignores him.."..They have to be very much in love because..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But now little Johnny even starts making noise with his feet, so the teacher decides to acknowledge him:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;" OK, little Johnny. What do you want to say."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Little Johnny then stands up, and says: "I just wanted to ask. Those of us who have already fu..d, can we leave?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8150159407502190986?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8150159407502190986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8150159407502190986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/good-lesson.html' title='A Good lesson'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5776152301665053429</id><published>2011-06-09T04:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T04:11:17.914-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>One for the ladies........</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his sweatshirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'What setting do I use on the washing machine?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'It depends,' I replied. 'What does it say on your shirt?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He yelled back, ' University of Oklahoma.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And they say blondes are dumb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5776152301665053429?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5776152301665053429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5776152301665053429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-for-ladies.html' title='One for the ladies........'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5810306045902946588</id><published>2011-06-04T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T20:46:00.464-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Spaghetti</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;For 2 years a man was having an affair with an Italian woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One night, she confided in him that she was pregnant. Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, He paid her a large sum of money if she would go to Italy to secretly have the child. If she stayed in Italy to raise the child, he would also provide child support until the child turned 18.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born. To keep it discrete, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and write'Spaghetti'on the back. He would then arrange for the child support payments to begin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his confused wife.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Honey!,' she said, 'you received a very strange post card today.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Oh, just give it to me and I'll explain it later,' he said. The wife obeyed and watched as her husband read the card, turned white, and fainted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On the card was written: Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Three with meatballs, two without. Send extra sauce.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5810306045902946588?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5810306045902946588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5810306045902946588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/spaghetti.html' title='Spaghetti'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1708466094003016254</id><published>2011-06-02T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T15:18:00.037-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Mexican Lion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He was sick and tired of thugs breaking into his garage shop to steal tools, etc. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So he came up with this idea. He put the word out that he had a new Mexican Lion that would attack anyone that would break in or climb his fence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Would-be thieves saw the "Lion" from a distance and fled the scene.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8YkmiGi7GDs/TeVphjm47PI/AAAAAAAAKMI/ZUr2KfRro2M/s1600/image002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8YkmiGi7GDs/TeVphjm47PI/AAAAAAAAKMI/ZUr2KfRro2M/s400/image002.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The dog's probably trying to figure out why his head's so hot and his butt's so cold. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1708466094003016254?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1708466094003016254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1708466094003016254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/mexican-lion.html' title='Mexican Lion'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8YkmiGi7GDs/TeVphjm47PI/AAAAAAAAKMI/ZUr2KfRro2M/s72-c/image002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5161239227889334990</id><published>2011-06-02T14:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T14:36:55.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Romantic talk SMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She sent the following message: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My love &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If you're sleeping, send me your dreams &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If you're smiling, send me your smile &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If you're crying, send me your tears &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I love you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He Replied :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm in the toilet &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What do I send&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5161239227889334990?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5161239227889334990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5161239227889334990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/romantic-talk-sms.html' title='Romantic talk SMS'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-548699554868274356</id><published>2011-06-01T23:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T23:56:29.831-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Love the Irish Logic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p0eay3QJuuc/TeczwaxIIaI/AAAAAAAAKNg/HicHwhu7bgs/s1600/ATT00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p0eay3QJuuc/TeczwaxIIaI/AAAAAAAAKNg/HicHwhu7bgs/s400/ATT00001.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;You know there are so many TV channels, each starved of new programs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In a rural program for farmers, a female TV reporter seeking the main cause of Mad Cow disease, arranged for an interview with a farmer who may have some theories on the matter...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The interview was as follows: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The lady reporter: “I am here to collect information on the possible sources of Mad Cow Disease. Can you offer any reason for this disease?” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The farmer stared at the reporter and said… &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Do you know that a bull mounts a cow only once a year?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Reporter: (obviously embarrassed): “Well, sir, that's a new piece of information but what's the relation between this phenomenon and Mad Cow disease?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Farmer: “And, madam, do you know that we milk a cow twice a day?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Reporter: “Sir, this is really valuable information, but what about getting to the point?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Farmer: “I am getting to the point, madam. Just imagine, if I was playing with your tits twice a day.... and only making love to you once a year, wouldn't you get mad?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;THE TV INTERVIEW WAS NEVER AIRED... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-548699554868274356?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/548699554868274356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/548699554868274356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/06/love-irish-logic.html' title='Love the Irish Logic'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p0eay3QJuuc/TeczwaxIIaI/AAAAAAAAKNg/HicHwhu7bgs/s72-c/ATT00001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4803522264333554473</id><published>2011-05-31T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T15:02:31.583-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Cairns International Airport</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cairns Tower : "Saudi Air 511 -- You are cleared to land on runway 9R." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Saudi Air : "Thank you Cairns . Acknowledge cleared to land on infidel's runway 9R - Allah be Praised." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cairns Tower : " Iran Air 711 - You are cleared to land on runway 27L." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Iran Air : "Thank you Cairns. We are cleared to land on infidel's runway 27L. - Allah is Great." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pause.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Saudi Air : " CAIRNS TOWER - CAIRNS TOWER !" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cairns Tower : "Go ahead Saudi Air 511..." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Saudi Air : "YOU HAVE CLEARED BOTH OUR AIRCRAFT FOR &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;THE SAME RUNWAY GOING IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS. WE &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;ARE ON A COLLISION COURSE . ... .. .. .. INSTRUCTIONS, PLEASE!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cairns Tower : "Well bless your hearts, and praise Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Proceed to your destination and tell Allah we said "Hi".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4803522264333554473?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4803522264333554473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4803522264333554473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/cairns-international-airport.html' title='Cairns International Airport'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8415180004897812936</id><published>2011-05-30T22:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T22:26:59.299-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>HUMOUR</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A father was approached by his small son who told him proudly, "I know what the Bible means!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;His father smiled and replied, "What do you mean, you 'know' what the Bible means?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The son replied, "I do know!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Okay," said his father. "What does the Bible mean?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"That's easy, Daddy..." the young boy replied excitedly," It stands for &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*'Basic Information Before Leaving Earth*.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8415180004897812936?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8415180004897812936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8415180004897812936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/humour.html' title='HUMOUR'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-264036988008463963</id><published>2011-05-30T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T22:25:15.675-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>When Love Fades...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A guy was sitting on the sofa watching TV when he heard his wife's lovely voice from the kitchen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"What would you like for dinner my Love. . . Chicken, beef or lamb?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He said, "Thank you sweetheart, I'll have chicken."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She replied "You're having soup... I was talking to the dog."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-264036988008463963?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/264036988008463963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/264036988008463963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/when-love-fades.html' title='When Love Fades...'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6072372741853266373</id><published>2011-05-30T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T16:58:27.219-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>It Is Time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cV4-9q3oLhI/TeQvCVRa7dI/AAAAAAAAKKo/oWaU9C-ENvI/s1600/image004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cV4-9q3oLhI/TeQvCVRa7dI/AAAAAAAAKKo/oWaU9C-ENvI/s400/image004.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you know when it is time to "hang up the car keys"?&lt;br /&gt;I say when your dog has this look on his face!&lt;br /&gt;A picture is worth a thousand words&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6072372741853266373?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6072372741853266373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6072372741853266373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-is-time.html' title='It Is Time!'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cV4-9q3oLhI/TeQvCVRa7dI/AAAAAAAAKKo/oWaU9C-ENvI/s72-c/image004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4384641169774878156</id><published>2011-05-30T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T16:53:01.442-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Two thieves</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The old Priest lay dying in the hospital.For years he had faithfully served the people of Egypt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He motioned for his nurse to come near.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Yes, Father?" said the nurse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"I would really like to see Hosni Mubarak and Jamal Mubarak before I die," whispered the Priest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"I'll see what I can do, Father," replied the nurse. The nurse sent the request to the president`s office and waited for a response.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Soon the word arrived that Both of them , were delighted to visit the Priest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As they went to the hospital, Mubarak commented to Jamal "I don't know why the old Priest wants to see us, but it will certainly help our images and might even get us some favourable publicity for our new presidential election Deal."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Jamal agreed that it was a good thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;When they arrived at the Priest's room, the Priest took Mubarak hand in his right hand and Jamal hand in his left&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There was silence and a look of serenity on the old Priest's face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Finally Hosni Mubarak spoke. "Father, of all the people you could have chosen, why did you choose us to be with you as you near the end?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The old Priest slowly replied, "I have always tried to pattern my life after our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Amen," said Hosni.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Amen," said Jamal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The old Priest continued, "Jesus died between two thieves. I would like to do the same!"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4384641169774878156?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4384641169774878156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4384641169774878156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/05/two-thieves.html' title='Two thieves'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4686565557365941930</id><published>2011-01-28T12:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T12:57:43.042-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Wine tester</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A guy was looking for a job as wine tester&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They tested him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They gave him a glass of wine . He tried it and said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It’s red wine, a Muscat, three years old, grown on a north slope, matured in steel containers."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"That’s correct", said the boss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Another glass. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It’s red wine, cabernet, eight years old, a southwestern slope, oak barrels."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Correct."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The director was astonished. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He winked at his secretary to suggest something. She brought in a glass of urine. The alcoholic tried it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"It’s a blonde, 26 years old, pregnant in the third month. And if you don’t give me the job, I’ll also name the father!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4686565557365941930?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4686565557365941930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4686565557365941930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/01/wine-tester.html' title='Wine tester'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-320327271993248457</id><published>2011-01-16T03:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T03:14:18.942-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Aids</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Khan is studying in the west as he is calling his mom:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;KHAN: Mom, I have AIDS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mother: Don't come back my son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;KHAN: Why Mom?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mother: If you come back then your wife will be infected. From your wife to your brother, from your brother to our maid, from our maid to your dad, from your dad to my sister and from my sister to her husband, from him to me and from me to our driver, from our driver to your sister and if your sister got AIDS, then...the whole village will be infected!:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So in the name of god please save our village. Don't come back!..X_X&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-320327271993248457?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/320327271993248457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/320327271993248457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2011/01/aids.html' title='Aids'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-944447535917254338</id><published>2010-12-28T04:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T04:57:35.757-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Three reasons</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A man was brought before the judge and charged with NECROPHILIA (making love to a dead body).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The judge told him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"In 20 years on the bench, I've never heard such a disgusting, immoral thing. Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't lock you up and throw away the jail keys?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The man replied, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"I'll give you THREE good reasons: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;1. It's none of your damn business; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;2. She was my wife; and... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3. I didn't KNOW she was dead, she ALWAYS acted that way!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-944447535917254338?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/944447535917254338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/944447535917254338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-reasons.html' title='Three reasons'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8920206852920516637</id><published>2010-12-28T04:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T04:50:45.962-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Nude Runner</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A woman was having a daytime affair while her husband was at work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One rainy day she was in bed with her boyfriend when, to her horror, she heard her husband's car pull into the driveway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Oh my God - Hurry! Grab your clothes and jump out the window. My husband's home early!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'I can't jump out the window. It's raining out there!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'If my husband catches us in here, he'll kill us both!' she replied. 'He's got a hot temper and a gun, so the rain is the least of your problems!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So the boyfriend scoots out of bed, grabs his clothes and jumps out the window! As he ran down the street in the pouring rain, he quickly discovered he had run right into the middle of the town's annual marathon, so he started running along beside the others, about 300 of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Being naked, with his clothes tucked under his arm, he tried to blend in as best he could. After a little while a small group of runners who had been watching him with some curiosity, jogged closer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Do you always run in the nude?' one asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Oh yes!' he replied, gasping in air. 'It feels so wonderfully free!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Another runner moved a long side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Do you always run carrying your clothes with you under your arm?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Oh, yes' our friend answered breathlessly. 'That way I can get dressed right at the end of the run and get in my car to go home!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then a third runner cast his eyes a little lower and asked, 'Do you always wear a condom when you run?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;'Nope...just when it's raining.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8920206852920516637?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8920206852920516637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8920206852920516637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/nude-runner.html' title='Nude Runner'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8872911987996544367</id><published>2010-12-21T14:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T14:31:53.051-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>24 hours to live‏</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDuryNmvZno/TREqlBjR29I/AAAAAAAAEec/qdSVmgGJlBE/s1600/Oncemore11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="121" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDuryNmvZno/TREqlBjR29I/AAAAAAAAEec/qdSVmgGJlBE/s200/Oncemore11.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Morris returns from the doctor and tells his wife that the doctor has told him that he has only 24 hours to live. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Given the prognosis, Morris asks his wife for sex. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Naturally, she agrees, so they make love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;About 6 hours later, the husband goes to his wife and says, 'Honey, you know I now have only 18 hours to live. Could we please do it one more time?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Of course, the wife agrees, and they do it again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Later, as the man gets into bed, he looks at his watch and realizes that he now has only 8 hours left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He touches his wife's shoulder and asks 'Honey, please.... just one more time before I die.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She says, 'Of course, Dear,' and they make love for the third time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After this session, the wife rolls over and falls to sleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Morris, however, worried about his impending death, tosses and turns, until he's down to 4 more hours. He taps his wife, who rouses. 'Honey, I have only 4 more hours. Do you think we could...' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At this point the wife sits up and says, 'Listen Morris, enough is enough I have to get up in the morning... you don't.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8872911987996544367?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8872911987996544367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8872911987996544367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/24-hours-to-live.html' title='24 hours to live‏'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDuryNmvZno/TREqlBjR29I/AAAAAAAAEec/qdSVmgGJlBE/s72-c/Oncemore11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-523288752924051269</id><published>2010-12-10T19:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T19:13:17.977-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Father and son</title><content type='html'>A young Arab boy asks his father: What is this weird hat we are wearing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: It’s a “CHECHIA”, because in the desert it protects our heads from the sun! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: And what is this type of clothing that we are wearing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: It’s a “DIBELLAH” because in the desert it is very hot and protects your body!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: And what are these ugly shoes we have on our feet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: These are “babouches” which keep us from burning our feet from the desert!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: Tell me, Papa….?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: Yes, my son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: Why are we living in Coburg Australia and still wearing all this shit?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-523288752924051269?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/523288752924051269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/523288752924051269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/12/father-and-son.html' title='Father and son'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8707969061968784491</id><published>2010-11-10T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T15:03:33.527-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>A cabbie picks up a Nun</title><content type='html'>She gets into the cab, and notices that the VERY handsome cab driver won't stop staring at her. &lt;br /&gt;She asks him why he is staring.&lt;br /&gt;He replies: "I have a question to ask you but I don't want to offend you."&lt;br /&gt;She answers, "My son, you cannot offend me. When you're as old as I am and have been a nun as long as I have, you get a chance to see and hear just about everything. I'm sure that there's nothing you could say or ask that I would find offensive."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I've always had a fantasy to have a nun kiss me." &lt;br /&gt;She responds, "Well, let's see what we can do about that:&lt;br /&gt;#1, you have to be single and&lt;br /&gt;#2, you must be Catholic."&lt;br /&gt;The cab driver is very excited and says, &lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I'm single and Catholic!"&lt;br /&gt;"OK," the nun says. "Pull into the next alley."&lt;br /&gt;The nun fulfills his fantasy, with a kiss that would make a hooker blush.&lt;br /&gt;But when they get back on the road, the cab driver starts crying.&lt;br /&gt;"My dear child," says the nun, "why are you crying?"&lt;br /&gt;"Forgive me but I've sinned. I lied and I must confess, I'm married and I'm Jewish."&lt;br /&gt;The nun says, "That's OK. My name is Kevin and I'm going to a Halloween party."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8707969061968784491?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8707969061968784491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8707969061968784491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/cabbie-picks-up-nun.html' title='A cabbie picks up a Nun'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6856756542493573925</id><published>2010-11-02T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T00:30:33.606-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>A Young Italian Girl On A Date‏</title><content type='html'>A young Italian girl was going on a date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Her Nonna said: 'Sita here ana letame tella you about this-a younga boy. He's agonna try ana kiss you, you are agonna likea dat, but don't let him do dat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He's agonna try ana kiss your breasts, you are agonna likea dat too, but don'ta let him do dat eeda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But mosta important, he's agonna try ana lay on topa you, you are agonna really likea dat, but don'ta let him do dat for sure. Doing thata willa disgraza our family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;With that bit of advice, the granddaughter went on her date. The next day she told grandma that her date went just like she had predicted: 'And Nonna, I didn't let him disgrace our family as you said. When he tried to lay on top of me, I just rolled him over, got on top of him, and disgraced HIS family!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nonna fainted!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6856756542493573925?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6856756542493573925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6856756542493573925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/11/young-italian-girl-on-date.html' title='A Young Italian Girl On A Date‏'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6779213169201665023</id><published>2010-09-25T20:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T20:59:42.499-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Earthquake</title><content type='html'>A big earthquake with the strength of 8.1 on the Richter scale hit Pakistan.&lt;br /&gt;Two million Pakistanis died and over a million are injured. &lt;br /&gt;The country is totally ruined and the government doesn't know where to start with providing help to rebuild.&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the world is in shock.&lt;br /&gt;The USA is sending troops to help.&lt;br /&gt;Saudi Arabia is sending oil.&lt;br /&gt;Latin American countries are sending supplies.&lt;br /&gt;New Zealand is sending sheep, cattle and food crops.&lt;br /&gt;The Asian countries are sending labor to assist in rebuilding infrastructure.&lt;br /&gt;Australia is sending medical teams and supplies.&lt;br /&gt;Britain, not to be outdone, is sending two million Pakistanis as replacements!&lt;br /&gt;God Bless the British for their generosity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6779213169201665023?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6779213169201665023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6779213169201665023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/09/earthquake.html' title='Earthquake'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4340733378545395769</id><published>2010-08-29T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T07:01:16.357-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Sex after death</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A couple made a deal that whoever died first would come back and inform the other if there is sex after death. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Their biggest fear was that there was no after life at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After a long life together, the husband was the first to die. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;True to his word, he made the first contact: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;" Marion ... Marion " &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Is that you, Bob?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Yes, I've come back like we agreed." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"That's wonderful! What's it like?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Well, I get up in the morning, I have sex. I have breakfast and then it's off to the golf course. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have sex again, bathe in the warm sun and then have sex a couple of more times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then I have lunch (you'd be proud - lots of greens). Another romp around the golf course, then pretty much have sex the rest of the afternoon. After supper, it's back to golf course again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then it's more sex until late at night. I catch some much needed sleep and then the next day it starts all over again"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Oh, Bob are you in Heaven?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"No...........I'm a rabbit in Arizona.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4340733378545395769?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4340733378545395769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4340733378545395769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/sex-after-death.html' title='Sex after death'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-324866216091502529</id><published>2010-08-23T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T02:55:04.603-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>Wait a second</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man: God? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God: Yes? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man: Can I ask you something? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God: Of course! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man: What's a million years for you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God: A second. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man: And a million dollars? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God: A penny. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Man: God, Could I have a penny? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God: Wait for a second. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-324866216091502529?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/324866216091502529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/324866216091502529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/wait-second.html' title='Wait a second'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4245828209504251989</id><published>2010-08-23T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T02:53:45.111-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>First class</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;plane is on its way to Melbourne when a blonde in Economy Class gets up and moves to the First Class section and sits down. The flight attendant watches her do this and asks to see her ticket. She then tells the blonde passenger that she paid for Economy and that she will have to go and sit in the back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The blonde replies, 'I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Melbourne and I'm staying right here!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The flight attendant goes into the cockpit and tells the pilot and co-pilot that there is some blonde bimbo sitting in First Class that belongs in Economy and won't move back to her seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The co-pilot goes back to the blonde and tries to explain that because she only paid for Economy she is only entitled to an Economy place and she will have to leave and return to her original seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The blonde replies, "I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Melbourne and I'm staying right here!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Exasperated the co-pilot tells the pilot that it was no use and that he probably should have the police waiting when they land to arrest this blonde woman who won't listen to reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The pilot says, 'You say she's blonde? - I'll handle this, I'm married to a blonde, and I speak blonde!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He goes back to the blonde, whispers in her ear, and she says, "Oh I'm sorry - I had no idea," gets up and moves back to her seat in the Economy section.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The flight attendant and co-pilot are amazed and asked him what he said to make her move without any fuss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The pilot replied, "I told her First Class isn't going to Melbourne ."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4245828209504251989?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4245828209504251989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4245828209504251989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/08/first-class.html' title='First class'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1977055334784207976</id><published>2010-06-18T23:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T23:05:32.759-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>At work</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In South Sydney , a fire destroyed a multi story block of flats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A Polynesian family of six con artists lived on the first floor, and all six died in the fire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;An Islamic group of seven Pakistani welfare cheats, all illegally in the country, lived on the second floor, and they, too, all perished in the fire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Six Maori ex-cons lived on the 3rd floor and they too, died.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Four Aboriginal families in the 2 flats on the 4th floor also perished.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One white couple lived on the top floor. They survived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Relatives of the deceased and local do-gooders were furious. They flew into Sydney and quickly demanded a meeting with the fire chief. On camera, they loudly demanded to know why the Islanders, Muslims, Maoris and Aboriginals all died in the fire and only the white couple survived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The fire chief quietly replied, "They were both at work."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1977055334784207976?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1977055334784207976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1977055334784207976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/at-work.html' title='At work'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1319032842950748851</id><published>2010-06-04T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T07:45:06.289-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>God and Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On the first day, God created the dog and said:&lt;br /&gt;'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'&lt;br /&gt;The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'&lt;br /&gt;So God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second day, God created the monkey and said:&lt;br /&gt;'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'&lt;br /&gt;The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'&lt;br /&gt;And God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the third day, God created the cow and said:&lt;br /&gt;'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'&lt;br /&gt;The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years.. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'&lt;br /&gt;And God agreed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fourth day, God created humans and said:&lt;br /&gt;'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.'&lt;br /&gt;But the human said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'&lt;br /&gt;'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family.. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren.. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1319032842950748851?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1319032842950748851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1319032842950748851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/god-and-us.html' title='God and Us'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8336856208898590592</id><published>2010-06-02T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T06:49:05.031-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jokes'/><title type='text'>UN Survey</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Last month a world survey was conducted by the UN. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The only question asked was :: "Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The survey was a HUGE failure because of the following: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. In Western Europe they didn't know what shortage meant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;4. In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;5. In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;6. In South America they didn't know what "please" meant &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;7. In the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;8. In Australia they hung up as soon as they heard the Indian accent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8336856208898590592?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8336856208898590592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8336856208898590592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/06/un-survey.html' title='UN Survey'/><author><name>Al-ghorba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00781969873172894524</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7617837918906357448</id><published>2010-05-30T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T03:47:00.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>best virginity test</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Paddy is planning to marry, he is, and asks his family doctor how he could tell if his bride-to-be is still a virgin.&lt;br /&gt;His doctor says, "Aye, Paddy, all Irish use three things for what we call a Do-It-Yourself.... Virginity Test Kit.... a small can of red paint, a small can of blue paint and a shovel."&lt;br /&gt;Paddy asks, "Aye, and what do I do with these things, doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;The doctor replies, "Before ye climb into bed on your wedding night, you paint one of your balls red and the other ball blue. If she says, "That's the strangest pair of balls I ever did see...", you hit her with the shovel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7617837918906357448?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7617837918906357448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7617837918906357448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/best-virginity-test.html' title='best virginity test'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8735458353443345937</id><published>2010-05-21T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T18:20:00.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 8</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After a quarrel, a wife said to her husband,&lt;br /&gt;You know, I was a fool when I married you.&lt;br /&gt;The husband replied, "Yes dear, but I was in love and didn't notice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8735458353443345937?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8735458353443345937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8735458353443345937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/husband-vs-wife-8.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 8'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1490059942067185759</id><published>2010-05-11T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T18:19:00.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: What is the most effective way to remember your wife's birthday?&lt;br /&gt;A: Just forget it once and you will never forget it again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1490059942067185759?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1490059942067185759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1490059942067185759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/05/husband-vs-wife-7.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 7'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7599905894671440326</id><published>2010-04-30T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T18:18:00.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wife: What will you give me if I climb the great Mount Everest ?&lt;br /&gt;Husband: A lovely Push...!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7599905894671440326?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7599905894671440326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7599905894671440326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/husband-vs-wife-6.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 6'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6493351603075666017</id><published>2010-04-20T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T18:16:00.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Husband: Today is Sunday &amp;amp; I have to enjoy it. So I bought 3 movie tickets.&lt;br /&gt;Wife: Why Three?&lt;br /&gt;Husband: For you and your parents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6493351603075666017?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6493351603075666017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6493351603075666017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/husband-vs-wife-5.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 5'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2209377055291342396</id><published>2010-04-11T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T18:15:00.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wife: I had to marry you to find out how stupid you are.&lt;br /&gt;Husband: You should have known it the minute I asked you to marry me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2209377055291342396?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2209377055291342396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2209377055291342396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/04/husband-vs-wife-4.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 4'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7553757193382044315</id><published>2010-03-30T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T18:14:00.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 3</title><content type='html'>Doctor: Your husband needs rest and peace. Here are some sleeping pills.&lt;br /&gt;Wife: When must I give them to him?&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: They are for you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7553757193382044315?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7553757193382044315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7553757193382044315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/husband-vs-wife-3.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 3'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7382585949300208869</id><published>2010-03-20T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T18:12:00.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wife: I wish I was a newspaper,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'd be in your hands all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband: I too wish that you were a newspaper, So I could have a new one everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7382585949300208869?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7382585949300208869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7382585949300208869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/husband-vs-wife-2.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 2'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3992306581057977494</id><published>2010-03-15T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T18:11:01.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband V/S Wife 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Husband: Do you know the meaning of WIFE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It means, Without Information, Fighting Everytime!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife: No darling, it means,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Idiot For Ever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3992306581057977494?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3992306581057977494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3992306581057977494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/husband-vs-wife-1.html' title='Husband V/S Wife 1'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2387496477495060985</id><published>2010-03-11T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T03:48:33.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drink Sweet Tea</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A woman goes to the doctor, beaten black and blue.&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: "What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Doctor, I don't know what to do. Every time my husband comes home drunk he beats me to a pulp."&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: "I have a real good medicine for that. When your husband comes home&lt;br /&gt;drunk, just take a glass of sweet tea and start gargling with it. Just gargle and gargle."&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later the woman comes back to the doctor looking fresh and reborn.&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Doctor, that was a brilliant idea! Every time my husband came home drunk, I gargled with sweet tea. I gargled and gargled, and nothing happened!"&lt;br /&gt;Doctor: "You see how keeping your mouth shut helps?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2387496477495060985?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2387496477495060985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2387496477495060985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2010/03/drink-sweet-tea.html' title='Drink Sweet Tea'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1651801009584018636</id><published>2009-09-13T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T16:55:00.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Handy Blondy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Two blondes are nailing in roof tiles. One of them is pulling nails from his jar and if they face him, he throws them away. The other blonde asks what he's doing.&lt;br /&gt;"Duh. I'm throwing away the defective ones."&lt;br /&gt;"No, stupid! Those are for the other side of the roof." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1651801009584018636?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1651801009584018636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1651801009584018636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/handy-blondy.html' title='Handy Blondy'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5182713023212660090</id><published>2009-09-10T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T16:52:00.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Midget Scopes the Blonde</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A midget is riding a bus when a blonde steps on him.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey you, brunette, watch where you're going,” yells the midget.&lt;br /&gt;The blonde looks down and says, “I am not a brunette, I am a blonde.”&lt;br /&gt;The midget replies, “Not from where I'm standing.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5182713023212660090?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5182713023212660090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5182713023212660090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/midget-scopes-blonde.html' title='The Midget Scopes the Blonde'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7786676358232716345</id><published>2009-09-07T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T16:50:00.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Girls Meet the Fairy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead are crossing an enchanted bridge in Magical Fairyland when they run into a fairy. The fairy says that they can be granted a transformation if they jump off the bridge and call out their wish. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The brunette immediately jumps off the bridge and yells "Eagle!" She turns into a beautiful bird of prey and flies away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The redhead jumps off the bridge and yells out "Salmon!" She turns into a gorgeous shimmering salmon and swims upstream to spawn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The blonde is at this point so excited that she jumps off the bridge without thinking of her wish. She panics.&lt;br /&gt;"Crap!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7786676358232716345?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7786676358232716345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7786676358232716345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/three-girls-meet-fairy.html' title='Three Girls Meet the Fairy'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6758791173932387031</id><published>2009-09-04T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T16:47:00.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deer Tracks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Three blondes were taking a walk in the country when they came upon a line of tracks. The first blonde said, "Those must be deer tracks!"&lt;br /&gt;The second blonde said, "No, stupid, anyone can tell those are rabbit tracks!"&lt;br /&gt;The third blondie said, "No, you idiots, those are horse tracks!"&lt;br /&gt;They where still arguing ten minutes later when a train hit them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6758791173932387031?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6758791173932387031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6758791173932387031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/deer-tracks.html' title='Deer Tracks'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7190599963625950908</id><published>2009-09-01T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T16:45:00.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Muffler</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde got a dent in her car and took it in to the repair shop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The repairman, noticing that the woman was a blonde, decided to have a wee bit of fun. So he told her that all she had to was take it home and blow in the tailpipe until the dent popped itself out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After 15 minutes of this, the blonde's blonde friend came over and asked what she was doing.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm trying to pop out this dent, but it's not really working."&lt;br /&gt;"Duh. You have to roll up the windows first!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7190599963625950908?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7190599963625950908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7190599963625950908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/09/muffler.html' title='The Muffler'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2969311026062193736</id><published>2009-08-28T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T16:43:00.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Blondes, Whatcha Gonna Do?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde and a brunette are out driving, and the brunette tells the blonde to look out for cops - especially cops with their lights on. After they've been driving for a while, the brunette asks the blonde if she's seen any cops.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," says the blonde.&lt;br /&gt;"Are their lights on?"&lt;br /&gt;The blonde has to think for a moment, then says, "Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2969311026062193736?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2969311026062193736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2969311026062193736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/bad-blondes-whatcha-gonna-do.html' title='Bad Blondes, Whatcha Gonna Do?'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3790606512557205321</id><published>2009-08-25T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T16:41:00.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Burning Building</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One day a blonde, brunette, and redhead were on top of a burning building. When the firemen got there they stretched the trampoline out and told the brunette to jump. She jumped, then the firemen moved back and she died.&lt;br /&gt;Then they moved back and told the redhead to jump. She said ''No! I saw what you just did!'' The firemen replied, ''we don't like brunettes, we won't move this time!'' So she believed them and jumped. They moved again, then returned to where they were.&lt;br /&gt;Then they told the blonde to jump. She replied ''No I saw what you did to them!'' The firemen said, ''we don't like brunettes or redheads, we like blondes!'' She then said ''OK! I'll tell you what to do! All of you put the net on the ground and BACK UP!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3790606512557205321?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3790606512557205321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3790606512557205321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/burning-building.html' title='The Burning Building'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-9118304628103110007</id><published>2009-08-22T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T16:37:00.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Don't Swerve Blondes Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A cop pulled over a car for swerving all over the road. The blonde at the wheel looked very confused and scared.&lt;br /&gt;"What's going on here, ma'am?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I was driving along when all of a sudden there was a tree right in my path. I swerved to miss it, but there was another tree. And after that, another, and another." The cop looked inside her car and sighed.&lt;br /&gt;"Ma'am. That's your air freshener &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-9118304628103110007?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/9118304628103110007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/9118304628103110007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/we-dont-swerve-blondes-here.html' title='We Don&apos;t Swerve Blondes Here'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5857394670804260578</id><published>2009-08-19T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T16:35:00.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde on the Run</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead are on the run from the law when they find an old barn to hide out in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The police are close on their tails, so when the women find three sacks, they immediately jump into them. About a minute later, a policeman comes into the barn and sees the suspicious-looking sacks. He kicks the first one.&lt;br /&gt;"Meow," says the redhead.&lt;br /&gt;"It must be a cat," thinks the policeman and he kicks the second sack.&lt;br /&gt;"Woof," says the brunette.&lt;br /&gt;"Must be a dog," thinks the policeman and he kicks the third sack.&lt;br /&gt;"Potatoes," says the blonde. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5857394670804260578?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5857394670804260578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5857394670804260578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/blonde-on-run.html' title='Blonde on the Run'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-320488732043061445</id><published>2009-08-16T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T16:32:00.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Girls in the Desert</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde, brunette and redhead are in a desert. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The brunette says, "I brought some water so we don't get dehydrated." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The redhead says, "I brought some suntan lotion so we don't get sunburned." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then the blonde says I brought a car door." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other girls said, "Why did you bring that?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then the blonde says, "So I can roll down the window if it gets hot." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-320488732043061445?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/320488732043061445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/320488732043061445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/three-girls-in-desert.html' title='Three Girls in the Desert'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4252229598270320034</id><published>2009-08-13T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T16:31:00.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde with Chickens</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde is walking down the street and a car pulled up next to her.&lt;br /&gt;The man in the car says to her, ''What do you have in the bag?''&lt;br /&gt;The blonde replies: ''I have chickens!''&lt;br /&gt;The man thinks for a moment and says, ''If I can guess how many chickens you have in the bag, can I have one?''&lt;br /&gt;The blonde thinks that it sounds fair and replies, ''Okay, but I'll make the bet even better! If you can guess how many chickens I have in the bag I will give you BOTH of them &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4252229598270320034?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4252229598270320034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4252229598270320034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/blonde-with-chickens.html' title='Blonde with Chickens'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-7505644582735396284</id><published>2009-08-10T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T16:27:00.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde on Fire</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde's house was on fire. She called 911 and started screaming, "Help me, please! My house is burning! Hurry!"&lt;br /&gt;The operator said, "Okay, calm down and we'll be there soon. How do we get to your house?"&lt;br /&gt;The blonde answered, "Duh, in that big red truck! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-7505644582735396284?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7505644582735396284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/7505644582735396284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/blonde-on-fire.html' title='Blonde on Fire'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8101662875213271107</id><published>2009-08-07T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T16:23:01.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puzzling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;George W. Bush is sitting in the White House kitchen putting together a puzzle and having a very difficult time of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first lady comes into the kitchen, and asks what he's doing.&lt;br /&gt;Very frustrated, George says, "I'm trying to do this tiger puzzle, but I can't seem to make the pieces fit right."&lt;br /&gt;Laura Bush sighs and says, "Put the Frosted Flakes back in the box, dear, and come to bed." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8101662875213271107?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8101662875213271107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8101662875213271107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/puzzling.html' title='Puzzling'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4430171161106084018</id><published>2009-08-04T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T16:21:00.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death in the Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One day, a blonde's neighbor goes over to her house, sees the blonde crying, and asks her what happened. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The blonde said that her mother had passed away. The neighbor made her some coffee and calmed her down a little and then left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The next day the neighbor went back over to the house and found the blonde crying again. She asked her why she was crying this time.&lt;br /&gt;''I just got off of the phone with my sister, her mother died too!'' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4430171161106084018?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4430171161106084018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4430171161106084018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/08/death-in-family.html' title='Death in the Family'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-238311771962768446</id><published>2009-07-30T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T16:14:00.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lightning Blonde</title><content type='html'>Why does a blonde smile at lightning?&lt;br /&gt;She thinks she's getting her picture taken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-238311771962768446?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/238311771962768446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/238311771962768446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/lightning-blonde.html' title='Lightning Blonde'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3337886763128735720</id><published>2009-07-27T16:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T16:12:59.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanging with Blondes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There were nine blondes and a brunette hanging of a rope 100 stories high. They had decided that one of them had to get off.&lt;br /&gt;They argued and argued and finally the brunette said ''I'll go.''&lt;br /&gt;The brunette made a touching speech and all the blondes clapped. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3337886763128735720?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3337886763128735720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3337886763128735720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/hanging-with-blondes.html' title='Hanging with Blondes'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3108337148676731171</id><published>2009-07-15T02:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T02:52:00.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a magic lamp</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde, a brunette and a redhead were stuck on an island for many, many years until one day they found a magic lamp. They rubbed it hard and out popped a genie. He said that he could only give three wishes so since there were three girls, each would get one wish.&lt;br /&gt;The redhead went first. ''I hate it here. It is too hot and boring. I want to go home!'' "Okay,'' replied the genie. And off she went.&lt;br /&gt;Then the brunette went. ''I miss my family, my friends and relatives. I want to go home, too!!'' And off she went.&lt;br /&gt;The blonde started crying and said, ''I wish my friends were back here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3108337148676731171?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3108337148676731171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3108337148676731171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/magic-lamp.html' title='a magic lamp'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3200446693721353527</id><published>2009-07-12T02:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T02:48:00.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I made it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One day two girls were trying out for the school cheerleading squad. One was a blonde and one was a brunette. After they both had tryouts, they went home to wait until the results were posted. The blonde goes to see if she made it that night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Once she found out she made it she got out her cell phone and called the brunette, but she didn't answer, so the blonde just went back home. The next day the brunette called the blonde to see if she wanted to go with her to look at their scores. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The blonde says sure and meets the brunette at the school. The brunette beats the blonde to the school, so she goes ahead and looks at the scores to find out they both made it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When the blonde gets there, she finds her name on the list again. Then she says, ''Yes!! I made it again, I made it last night and I made it again today. I am on a roll!''&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3200446693721353527?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3200446693721353527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3200446693721353527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-made-it.html' title='I made it'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8593911833859654564</id><published>2009-07-09T02:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T02:46:00.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two blonds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Two blondes are on opposite sides of a lake.&lt;br /&gt;One blonde yells to the other, "How do you get to the other side?"&lt;br /&gt;"You are on the other side," the other blonde yells back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8593911833859654564?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8593911833859654564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8593911833859654564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/two-blonds.html' title='Two blonds'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4262604253544458134</id><published>2009-07-06T02:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T02:42:01.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Two blondes were shopping at the mall. When they were done, they went out to their car, which happened to be an awesome leather-interior convertible, but they realized they had locked the keys in the car. So they both kind of stood there and thought for a while.&lt;br /&gt;Then one of the girls had the bright idea to try to open the car with a coat hanger, so she started fiddling with the lock. The other blonde looked up at the sky, became very worried, and pleaded,&lt;br /&gt;"HURRY, HURRY, IT'S GOING TO RAIN AND WE LEFT THE TOP DOWN.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4262604253544458134?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4262604253544458134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4262604253544458134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/hurry.html' title='Hurry'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-4622663606522452642</id><published>2009-07-03T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T02:39:00.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loud noise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde went to the emergency room with the tip of her left index finger blown off. “How did this happen?” the doctor asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Well I was trying to commit suicide,” the blonde replied. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Trying to commit suicide by shooting your finger?” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“No silly! First I put the gun to my chest and I thought, ‘I just paid $6,000 for these,’ then I put it in my mouth and I thought, ‘I just paid $4,000 to get my teeth fixed.’ So then I put the gun in my ear and I thought, ‘this is going to make a loud noise,’ so I put my finger in my ear before I pulled the trigger.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-4622663606522452642?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4622663606522452642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/4622663606522452642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/07/loud-noise.html' title='Loud noise'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-69580325289587578</id><published>2009-06-30T02:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T02:37:16.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still winning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was a really hot day and this blonde decided she would go buy a coke. She went to the coke machine and when she put her money in, a coke came out - so she kept putting money in.&lt;br /&gt;And since it was such a hot day, a line had formed behind her. Finally, a guy on line said, "Will you hurry up? We're all hot and thirsty!"&lt;br /&gt;And the blonde said, "No way. I'm still winning!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-69580325289587578?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/69580325289587578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/69580325289587578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-still-winning.html' title='I&apos;m still winning'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2716006870631409571</id><published>2009-06-27T02:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:34:00.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Using their hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead all enter a swim meet. The gun goes off, and the brunette quickly captures first, with the redhead coming in second. An hour later, the blonde emerges from the pool and complains to the judges that while she was doing the breast stroke, the others were using their arms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2716006870631409571?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2716006870631409571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2716006870631409571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/using-their-hands.html' title='Using their hands'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-109889754378626536</id><published>2009-06-24T02:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T02:29:01.432-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hairdresser</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde walks into the hairdresser with headphones on. She asks the woman working there for a haircut. The blonde sits down in the chair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The woman takes the blonde's headphones off and cuts her hair. At the end, the woman asks how she likes her hair but, to her surprise the blonde is dead! The woman picks up the headphones and listens.&lt;br /&gt;She hears: “Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-109889754378626536?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/109889754378626536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/109889754378626536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/hairdresser.html' title='Hairdresser'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-1961013957698550613</id><published>2009-06-21T02:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T02:27:01.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Microwave</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde went to the appliance store sale and found a bargain. "I would like to buy this TV," she told the salesman.&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, we don't sell to blondes," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hurried home and dyed her hair, then came back and again told the salesman, "I would like to buy this TV."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, we don't sell to blondes," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Darn, he recognized me," she thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went for a complete disguise this time; haircut and new color, new outfit, big sunglasses, then waited a few days before she again approached the salesman. "I would like to buy this TV."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, we don't sell to blondes," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated, she exclaimed, "How do you know I'm a blonde?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because that's a microwave," he replied &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-1961013957698550613?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1961013957698550613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/1961013957698550613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/microwave.html' title='Microwave'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6240728007032183555</id><published>2009-06-18T02:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T05:54:42.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Selling a car</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde wanted to sell her car, but couldn't find any buyers. She called her friend for advice, and her friend asked her how many miles she had on her car.&lt;br /&gt;"235,000 miles." Her friend told her that was the problem. But the blonde's friend told her that her brother is a mechanic and could put back the miles to whatever she wanted. So the blonde went to the mechanic and told him to put the miles at 40,000. Two days later the blond's friend asked her if she sold the car since her brother dropped the miles. The blonde told her, "Why would I sell the car? There are only 40,000 miles on it!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6240728007032183555?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6240728007032183555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6240728007032183555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/selling-car.html' title='Selling a car'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3641526079619455</id><published>2009-06-15T02:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T02:19:00.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flight attendant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;An airline captain was helping a new blonde flight attendant prepare for her first overnight trip. Upon their arrival, the captain showed the flight attendant the best place for airline personnel to eat, shop, and stay overnight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The next morning as the pilot was preparing the crew for the day's route, he noticed the new stewardess was missing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He knew which room she was in at the hotel and called her up to ask what happened to her. She answered the phone, crying, and said, "I can't get out of the room!" "You can't get out of your room?"; the captain asked. "Why not?" She replied, "There are only three doors in here," she sobbed, "one is the bathroom, one is the closet, and one has a sign on it that says 'Do Not Disturb'!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3641526079619455?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3641526079619455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3641526079619455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/flight-attendant.html' title='Flight attendant'/><author><name>leila</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-789487943337921568</id><published>2009-06-12T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T01:09:01.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lebanese show off</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toni grew up in Beirut, then moved away to attend college and law in Oxford University. He decided to come back to Beirut , because he could not be a big man in Oxford . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He really wanted to impress everyone. So? he returned and opened his new law office!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first day, he saw a man coming up the sidewalk. He decided to make a big impression on this new client when he arrived. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As the man came to the door Mr. Toni picked up the phone? He motioned the man in, all while talking "No! Absolutely no? You tell those clowns in New York that I won't settle this case for less than one million! Yes? The Appeals Court has agreed to hear that case next week? I'll be handling the primary argument and the other members of my team will provide support? Okay? Tell the State Prosecutor that I'll meet with him next week to discuss The details."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This sort of thing went on for almost five minutes? All the while the man sat patiently as Toni rattled instructions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Finally, Toni put down the phone and turned to the man. "I'm sorry for the delay, but as you can see, I'm very busy. What can I do for you?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The man replied, "I'm from OGERO, I've come to connect your phone line".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;What can you do with the new Windows Live? Find out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;See all the ways you can stay connected to friends and family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Check out the new Windows Live Messenger Looking for a fresh way to share your photos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{0}&lt;br /&gt;Mark as read&lt;br /&gt;Mark as unread&lt;br /&gt;Delete&lt;br /&gt;Junk&lt;br /&gt;Not junk&lt;br /&gt;Print&lt;br /&gt;View message source&lt;br /&gt;This message is too wide to fit your screen. Show full message © 2009 Microsoft Privacy Legal Help Central Account Feedback&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-789487943337921568?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/789487943337921568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/789487943337921568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/lebanese-show-off.html' title='Lebanese show off'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-750672849304738262</id><published>2009-06-09T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T17:51:00.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VATICAN HUMOR</title><content type='html'>After getting all of Pope Benedict's luggage loaded into the limo, (and he doesn't travel light), the driver notices the Pope is still standing on the curb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me, Your Holiness," says the driver, "Would you please take your seat so we can leave?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, to tell you the truth," says the Pope, "they never let me drive at the Vatican when I was a cardinal, and I'd really like to drive today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot let you do that. I'd lose my job! What if something should happen?" protests the driver, wishing he'd never gone to work that morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who's going to tell?" says the Pope with a smile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 205 kph. (Remember, the Pope is German.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please slow down, Your Holiness!" pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, dear God, I'm going to lose my license -- and my job!" moans the driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need to talk to the Chief," he says to the dispatcher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he's stopped a limo going 205 kph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So bust him," says the Chief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think we want to do that, he's really important," said the cop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chief exclaimed," All the more reason!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I mean really important," said the cop with a bit of persistence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chief then asked, "Who do you have there, the mayor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cop: "Bigger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chief: " A senator?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cop: "Bigger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chief: "The Prime Minister?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cop: "Bigger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well," said the Chief, "Who is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cop: "I think it's God!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chief is even more puzzled and curious, "What makes you think it's God?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cop: "His chauffeur is the Pope!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-750672849304738262?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/750672849304738262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/750672849304738262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/vatican-humor.html' title='VATICAN HUMOR'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8788007835164937941</id><published>2009-06-06T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T17:50:00.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homsi and his servant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi told his servant: 'Go and water the plants!'&lt;br /&gt;Servant: 'It's already raining.'&lt;br /&gt;Homsi: 'So what? Take an umbrella and go.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8788007835164937941?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8788007835164937941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8788007835164937941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/homsi-and-his-servant.html' title='Homsi and his servant'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5058017615105936365</id><published>2009-06-03T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T17:47:06.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homsi and his teacher</title><content type='html'>Teacher: 'I killed a person' convert this sentence into future tense&lt;br /&gt;Homsi: The future tense is 'u will go to jail'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5058017615105936365?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5058017615105936365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5058017615105936365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/06/homsi-and-his-teacher.html' title='Homsi and his teacher'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-864938488008750765</id><published>2009-05-30T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T17:44:00.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why others running?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi: Why are all these people running?&lt;br /&gt;Man - This is a race, the winner will get the cup&lt;br /&gt;Homsi - If only the winner will get the cup, why others running?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-864938488008750765?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/864938488008750765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/864938488008750765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-others-running.html' title='Why others running?'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-8028921567450352741</id><published>2009-05-27T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T17:42:00.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How did you know?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi in a bar and his cellular phone rings. He picks it up and&lt;br /&gt;Says 'Hello, how did you know I was here?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-8028921567450352741?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8028921567450352741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/8028921567450352741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-did-you-know.html' title='How did you know?'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-2602832627869646581</id><published>2009-05-24T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T17:40:00.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold and hot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Once Homsi was walking he had a glove on one hand and not on other.&lt;br /&gt;So the man asked him why he did so. He replied that the weather forecast&lt;br /&gt;announced that on one hand it would be cold and on the other hand it would&lt;br /&gt;be hot.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-2602832627869646581?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2602832627869646581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/2602832627869646581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/cold-and-hot.html' title='Cold and hot'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-604189979048546113</id><published>2009-05-21T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T17:39:00.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homsi in school</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How do you recognize Homsi in School?&lt;br /&gt;He is the one who erases the notes from the book when the teacher erases&lt;br /&gt;the board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-604189979048546113?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/604189979048546113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/604189979048546113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/homsi-in-school.html' title='Homsi in school'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-6525133199532941139</id><published>2009-05-18T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T17:37:01.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parking fine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi comes back 2 his car &amp;amp; find a note saying 'Parking Fine'&lt;br /&gt;He Writes a note and sticks it to a pole 'Thanks for compliment.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-6525133199532941139?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6525133199532941139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/6525133199532941139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/parking-fine.html' title='Parking fine'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-9176853392774550594</id><published>2009-05-15T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T17:35:00.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homsi and the police</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi complained to the police: 'Sir, all items are missing, except the TV in my house.'&lt;br /&gt;Police: 'How the thief did not take TV?'&lt;br /&gt;Homsi: 'I was watching TV news...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-9176853392774550594?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/9176853392774550594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/9176853392774550594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/homsi-and-police.html' title='Homsi and the police'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-3798784086556415756</id><published>2009-05-14T03:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T03:53:37.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Times UP?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A 54 year old woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she had a near death experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing God she asked 'Is my time up?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said, 'No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a face-lift, liposuction, breast implants and a tummy tuck.&lt;br /&gt;She even had someone come in and change her hair color and brighten her teeth!&lt;br /&gt;Since she had so much more time to live, she figured she might as well make the most of it.&lt;br /&gt;After her last operation, she was released from the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;While crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving in front of God, she demanded, 'I thought you said I had another 43 years? Why didn't you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?'&lt;br /&gt;- God replied: 'I didn't recognize you.' &lt;http:&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-3798784086556415756?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3798784086556415756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/3798784086556415756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-times-up.html' title='My Times UP?'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-728454988065030081</id><published>2009-05-12T17:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T17:33:00.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh God</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi: People consider me as a 'GOD'&lt;br /&gt;Wife: How do you know??&lt;br /&gt;Homsi: When I went to the Park today, everybody said,&lt;br /&gt;Oh GOD! U have come again.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-728454988065030081?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/728454988065030081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/728454988065030081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-god.html' title='Oh God'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3275502516368790314.post-5909535099850601988</id><published>2009-05-09T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T17:31:00.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homsi and his wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Homsi: If I die, will u remarry?&lt;br /&gt;Wife: No! I'll stay with my sister. But if I die will u remarry?&lt;br /&gt;Homsi: No, I'll also stay with your sister. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3275502516368790314-5909535099850601988?l=charbeljokes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5909535099850601988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3275502516368790314/posts/default/5909535099850601988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://charbeljokes.blogspot.com/2009/05/homsi-and-his-wife.html' title='Homsi and his wife'/><author><name>charbel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
