<?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-17303660</id><updated>2011-09-15T04:33:05.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SouP FoR THe SMiLiNG SouL..</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403171848697447</id><published>2006-11-20T06:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T06:08:38.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The reason Eve was created..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;Top Ten Reasons Eve Was Created&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. God was worried that Adam would frequently become lost in the garden because he would not ask for directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. God knew that one day Adam would require someone to locate and hand him the remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. God knew Adam would never go out and buy himself a new fig leaf when his wore out and would therefore need Eve to buy one for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. God knew Adam would never be able to make a doctor's, dentist, or haircut appointment for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. God knew Adam would never remember which night to put the garbage on the curb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. God knew if the world was to be populated, men would never be able to handle the pain and discomfort of childbearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. As the Keeper of the Garden, Adam would never remember where he left his tools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Apparently, Adam needed someone to blame his troubles on when God caught him hiding in the garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. As the Bible says, It is not good for man to be alone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the #1 reason why God created Eve...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When God finished the creation of Adam, He stepped back, scratched his head, and said, "I can do better than that!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403171848697447?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403171848697447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403171848697447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403171848697447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403171848697447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/reason-eve-was-created.html' title='The reason Eve was created..'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403129414129147</id><published>2006-11-20T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T06:01:34.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When a girl needs to go...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A little nine year old girl was in church with her mother when she started feeling ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy" she said "Can we leave now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No" her mother replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I think I have to throw up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then go out the front door and around to the back of the church and throw up behind a bush."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In about two minutes the little girl returned to her seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you throw up?" her mother asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" the little girl replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, how could you have gone all the way to the back of the church and return so quickly?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't have to go out of the church, Mommy" the little girl replied, "They have a box next to the front door that says 'for the sick'."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403129414129147?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403129414129147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403129414129147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403129414129147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403129414129147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/when-girl-needs-to-go.html' title='When a girl needs to go...'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403073907895833</id><published>2006-11-20T05:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:52:19.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Sneeze</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;h2&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;What just happened here?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;/center&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A military cargo plane, flying over a populated area, suddenly loses power and starts to nose down. The pilot tries to pull up, but with all their cargo, the plane is too heavy. So he yells to the soldiers in back to throw things out to make the plane lighter. They throw out a pistol. "Throw out more!" shouts the pilot. So they throw out a rifle. "More!" he cries again. They heave out a missile, and the pilot regains control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulls out of the dive and lands safely at an airport. They get into a jeep and drive off. Pretty soon they meet a boy on the side of the road who's crying. They ask him why he's crying and he says "A pistol hit me on the head!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drive more and meet another boy who's crying even harder. Again they ask why and the boy says, "A rifle hit me on the head!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They apologize and keep driving. They meet a boy on the sidewalk who's laughing hysterically. They ask him, "Kid, what's so funny?" The boy replies, "I sneezed and a house blew up!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403073907895833?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403073907895833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403073907895833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403073907895833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403073907895833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/great-sneeze.html' title='The Great Sneeze'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403065735924097</id><published>2006-11-20T05:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:50:57.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LA to NY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A programmer and an engineer are sitting next to each other on a long flight from Los Angeles to New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer leans over to the engineer and asks if he would like to play a fun game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The engineer just wants to take a nap, so he politely declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer persists and explains that the game is real easy and is a lot of fun. He explains "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me $5. Then you ask me a question, and if I don't know the answer, I'll pay you $5."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the engineer politely declines and tries to get to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer, now somewhat agitated, says, "OK, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5, and if I don't know the answer, I'll pay you $100!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This catches the engineer's attention, and he sees no end to this torment unless he plays, so he agrees to the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer asks the first question. "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?" The engineer doesn't say a word, but reaches into his wallet, pulls out a five dollar bill and hands it to the programmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it's the engineer's turn. He asks the programmer "What goes up a hill with three legs, and comes down on four?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The programmer looks up at him with a puzzled look. He takes out his laptop computer and searches all of his references. He taps into the Airphone with his modem and searches the net and the Library of Congress. Frustrated, he sends e-mail to his co-workers--all to no avail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about an hour, he wakes the Engineer and hands him $100. The engineer politely takes the $100 and turns away to try to get back to sleep. The programmer, more than a little miffed, shakes the engineer and asks "Well, so what's the answer?" Without a word, the engineer reaches into his wallet, hands the programmer $5, and turns away to get back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403065735924097?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403065735924097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403065735924097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403065735924097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403065735924097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/la-to-ny.html' title='LA to NY'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403010428430893</id><published>2006-11-20T05:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:41:44.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Becareful who you sleep with..</title><content type='html'>After a long night of making love, he notices a photo of&lt;br /&gt;another Man&lt;br /&gt;on her bedside table by the bed. He begins to worry.&lt;br /&gt;"Is this your husband?" he nervously asks.&lt;br /&gt;"No, silly," she replies, snuggling up to him.&lt;br /&gt;"Your boyfriend, then?" he continues.&lt;br /&gt;"No, not at all," she says, nibbling away at his ear.&lt;br /&gt;"Is it your dad or your brother?" he inquires, hoping to be&lt;br /&gt;reassured.&lt;br /&gt;"No, no, no!!!" she answers.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, who in the hell is he, then?" he demands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's me before the surgery."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403010428430893?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403010428430893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403010428430893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403010428430893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403010428430893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/becareful-who-you-sleep-with.html' title='Becareful who you sleep with..'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116403001331295214</id><published>2006-11-20T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:40:13.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>High Risk</title><content type='html'>After 2 years of selfless service, a man realised&lt;br /&gt;that he has not been promoted, no transfer, no&lt;br /&gt;salary increase no commendation and that the&lt;br /&gt;Company is not doing any thing about it. So he&lt;br /&gt;decided to walk up to his HR Manager one&lt;br /&gt;morning and after exchanging greetings, he told&lt;br /&gt;his HR Manager his observation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss looked at him, laughed and asked him to&lt;br /&gt;sit down saying; My friend, you have not worked&lt;br /&gt;here for even one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man was surprised to hear this, but the&lt;br /&gt;manager went on to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- How many days are there in a year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 365 days and some times 366&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- how many hours make up a day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 24 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- How long do you work in a day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 8am to 4pm. i.e. 8 hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- So, what fraction of the day do you work&lt;br /&gt;in hours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- (He did some arithmetic and said 8/24 hours&lt;br /&gt;i.e. 1/3(one third)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- That is nice of you! What is one-third of&lt;br /&gt;366 days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 122 (1/3x366 = 122 in days)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- Do you come to work on weekends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- No sir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- How many days are there in a year that&lt;br /&gt;are weekends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 52 Saturdays and 52 Sundays equals to 104&lt;br /&gt;days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- Thanks for that. If you remove 104 days&lt;br /&gt;from 122 days, how many days do you now have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 18 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- OK! I do give you 2 weeks sick leave&lt;br /&gt;every year. Now remove that14 days from the 18&lt;br /&gt;days left. How many days do you have remaining?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 4 days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- Do you work on New Year day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- No sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- Do you come to work on workers day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- No sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- So how many days are left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 2 days sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:-Do you come to work on the (National&lt;br /&gt;holiday)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- No sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- So how many days are left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- 1 day sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- Do you work on Christmas day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- No sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- So how many days are left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- None sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager:- So, what are you claiming?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man:- I have understood, Sir. I did not realise that I&lt;br /&gt;was stealing Company money all these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEVER EVER GO TO HR FOR HELP!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HR MEANS - HIGH RISK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116403001331295214?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116403001331295214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116403001331295214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403001331295214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116403001331295214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/high-risk.html' title='High Risk'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116402967582024737</id><published>2006-11-20T05:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:34:35.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Campaign</title><content type='html'>While walking down the street one day a US&lt;br /&gt;senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter&lt;br /&gt;at the entrance.&lt;br /&gt;"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you&lt;br /&gt;settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom&lt;br /&gt;see a high official around these parts, you see, so&lt;br /&gt;we're! not sure what to do with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No problem, just let me in," says the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up.&lt;br /&gt;What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell&lt;br /&gt;and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to&lt;br /&gt;spend eternity."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in&lt;br /&gt;heaven," says the senator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the&lt;br /&gt;elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.&lt;br /&gt;The doors open and he finds himself in the middle&lt;br /&gt;of a green golf course. In the distance is a&lt;br /&gt;clubhouse. Standing in front of it are all his friends&lt;br /&gt;and other politicians who had worked with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They&lt;br /&gt;run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce&lt;br /&gt;about the good times they had while getting rich at&lt;br /&gt;the expense of the people. They play a friendly&lt;br /&gt;game of golf; and then dine on lobster,caviar and&lt;br /&gt;champagne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also present is the devil, who really is a very&lt;br /&gt;friendly guy who has a good time dancing and&lt;br /&gt;telling jokes. They are having such a good time&lt;br /&gt;that before he realizes it, it is time to go.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves&lt;br /&gt;while the elevator rises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens&lt;br /&gt;on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for&lt;br /&gt;him. "Now it's time to visit heaven."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group&lt;br /&gt;of contented&lt;br /&gt;souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp&lt;br /&gt;and singing.&lt;br /&gt;They have a good time. Before he realizes it, the&lt;br /&gt;24 hours have&lt;br /&gt;gone by and St. Peter returns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another&lt;br /&gt;in heaven. Now choose your eternity."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The senator reflects for a minute, then he&lt;br /&gt;answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I&lt;br /&gt;mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I&lt;br /&gt;would be better off in hell."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he&lt;br /&gt;goes down, down, down to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the&lt;br /&gt;middle of a barren land covered with waste and&lt;br /&gt;garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags,&lt;br /&gt;picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as&lt;br /&gt;more trash falls from above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil comes over to him and puts his arm&lt;br /&gt;around his shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand," stammers the&lt;br /&gt;senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a&lt;br /&gt;golf course and clubhouse. We ate lobster and&lt;br /&gt;caviar, drank champagne, danced and had a great&lt;br /&gt;time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage&lt;br /&gt;and my friends look miserable. What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil looks at him, smiles and&lt;br /&gt;says, "Yesterday we were campaigning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today you voted."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116402967582024737?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116402967582024737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116402967582024737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116402967582024737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116402967582024737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/campaign.html' title='The Campaign'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-116402887541404388</id><published>2006-11-20T05:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T05:21:15.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The dead duck...</title><content type='html'>A woman brought a very limp duck into a&lt;br /&gt;veterinary surgeon.&lt;br /&gt;As she laid her pet on the table, the&lt;br /&gt;vet pulled out his stethoscope and&lt;br /&gt;listened to the bird's chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a moment or two, the vet shook his&lt;br /&gt;head sadly and said,&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has&lt;br /&gt;passed away.&lt;br /&gt;The distressed woman wailed, "Are you&lt;br /&gt;sure?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead,"&lt;br /&gt;replied the vet.&lt;br /&gt;"How can you be so sure", she protested.&lt;br /&gt;"I mean you&lt;br /&gt;haven't done any testing on him or&lt;br /&gt;anything.  He might just be in a coma or&lt;br /&gt;something."  The vet rolled his eyes,&lt;br /&gt;turned around and&lt;br /&gt;left the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He returned a few minutes later with a&lt;br /&gt;black Labrador Retriever.&lt;br /&gt;As the duck's owner looked on in&lt;br /&gt;amazement, the dog&lt;br /&gt;stood on his hind legs, put his front&lt;br /&gt;paws  on the examination table and&lt;br /&gt;sniffed the duck from top to bottom.&lt;br /&gt;He then looked up at the vet with  sad&lt;br /&gt;eyes and shook his head.&lt;br /&gt;The vet patted the dog on the head and&lt;br /&gt;took it out of&lt;br /&gt;the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later he returned with a cat.&lt;br /&gt;The cat jumped on the table and also&lt;br /&gt;delicately sniffed the bird from&lt;br /&gt;head to foot.&lt;br /&gt;The cat sat back on its  haunches, shook&lt;br /&gt;its head, meowed softly&lt;br /&gt;and strolled out of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vet looked at the woman and said,&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, but as I said,&lt;br /&gt;this is most definitely, 100%&lt;br /&gt;certifiably, a dead duck."&lt;br /&gt;The vet turned to his computer terminal,&lt;br /&gt;hit a few keys and&lt;br /&gt;produced a bill, which he handed to the&lt;br /&gt;woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The duck's owner, still in shock, took&lt;br /&gt;the bill.&lt;br /&gt;"$150!" she cried,  "$150 just to tell&lt;br /&gt;me my duck is dead!"&lt;br /&gt;The vet shrugged, "I'm sorry.  If you&lt;br /&gt;had just taken&lt;br /&gt;my word for it, the bill would have been&lt;br /&gt;$20,  but with the&lt;br /&gt;Lab Report and  the Cat Scan, it's now&lt;br /&gt;$150."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-116402887541404388?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/116402887541404388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=116402887541404388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116402887541404388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/116402887541404388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2006/11/dead-duck.html' title='The dead duck...'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-113013232489486221</id><published>2005-10-23T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T22:39:32.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Think Carefully Before Speaking</title><content type='html'>WIFE: "If I died, would you get married again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "Of course not!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "No? Why not? Don't you like being married?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "Of course I do!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "Then why wouldn't you get married again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "Alright, I would."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE (looking hurtful): "You would?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "I would, but only because it was so good&lt;br /&gt;with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "And you'd sleep with her in our bed?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "Where else would you want us to sleep?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "And you'd replace all my photographs with&lt;br /&gt;hers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "Yes, it's only natural, I guess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: "And she'd use my car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "No. She can't drive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE: (silence)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUSBAND: "OooPS"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-113013232489486221?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/113013232489486221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=113013232489486221' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/113013232489486221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/113013232489486221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2005/10/think-carefully-before-speaking.html' title='Think Carefully Before Speaking'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-113013226502620820</id><published>2005-10-23T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T22:37:45.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School Answering Machine</title><content type='html'>The company that produces automated phone response&lt;br /&gt;recently updated their product to account for the&lt;br /&gt;latest attitudes of parents in the U.S.  The&lt;br /&gt;following options tested very well among surveyed&lt;br /&gt;teachers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello! You've reached the automated answering&lt;br /&gt;service of your school.&lt;br /&gt;In order to assist you in connecting to the right&lt;br /&gt;staff member, please&lt;br /&gt;listen to all your options before making a selection:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To lie about why your child is absent -- Press 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To make excuses for why your child did not do his&lt;br /&gt;work -- Press 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To complain about what we do -- Press 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To swear at staff members -- Press 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To ask why you didn't get information that was&lt;br /&gt;already enclosed in your&lt;br /&gt;newsletter and several flyers mailed to you --&lt;br /&gt;Press 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you want us to raise your child -- Press 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you want to reach out and touch, slap, or hit&lt;br /&gt;someone -- Press 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To request another teacher for the third time&lt;br /&gt;this year -- Press 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To complain about bus transportation -- Press 9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To complain about school lunches -- Press 0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you realize this is the real world and your&lt;br /&gt;child must be&lt;br /&gt;accountable and responsible for his/her own&lt;br /&gt;behavior, class work, and&lt;br /&gt;homework and that it's not the teacher's fault for&lt;br /&gt;your child's lack of&lt;br /&gt;effort -- Hang up and have a nice day!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-113013226502620820?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/113013226502620820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=113013226502620820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/113013226502620820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/113013226502620820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2005/10/school-answering-machine.html' title='School Answering Machine'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-112877981826907227</id><published>2005-10-08T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T06:56:58.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The BAR..</title><content type='html'>One Chinese person walks into a bar in America&lt;br /&gt;late one night and he&lt;br /&gt;saw&lt;br /&gt;Steven Spielberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he was a great fan of his movies, he rushes&lt;br /&gt;over to him, and asks&lt;br /&gt;for&lt;br /&gt;his&lt;br /&gt;autograph. Instead, Spielberg gives him a slap and&lt;br /&gt;says, "You Chinese&lt;br /&gt;people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bombed our Pearl Harbor, get outta&lt;br /&gt;here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The astonished Chinese man replied, "It was not&lt;br /&gt;the Chinese who bombed&lt;br /&gt;your&lt;br /&gt;Pearl Harbor, it was the Japanese".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, you're all the&lt;br /&gt;same," replied Spielberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In return, the Chinese gives Spielberg a slap and&lt;br /&gt;says, "You sank the&lt;br /&gt;Titanic, my forefathers were on that ship.&lt;br /&gt;Shocked, Spielberg replies,&lt;br /&gt;"It&lt;br /&gt;was the iceberg that sank the ship, not me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chinese replied, "Iceberg, Spielberg,&lt;br /&gt;Carlsberg, you're all the&lt;br /&gt;same."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-112877981826907227?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/112877981826907227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=112877981826907227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112877981826907227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112877981826907227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2005/10/bar.html' title='The BAR..'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-112809351138535198</id><published>2005-09-30T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T08:25:09.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Daniel Fast..</title><content type='html'>A young boy was very excited as his holiday was coming soon. He couldnt stop sharing to his friends what his parents has been promising him. "My mom and dad is going to bring me for a vacation. I'm going to Hawaii. And mom told me i can eat all the icecream i want when I'm there." he said. Tommy was a chubby boy, so his dad has been teaching him the Daniel Fast. A teacher passedby and overheard him. She then walks towards the boy. "What are you kids talking about? You should be doing your homework i gave you." the teacher said smiling at them. The boy couldnt resist, so he shared his excitement to his favoured teacher too. "I'm going to Hawaii next week. And I can eat all i want.", he told her with a big smile on his face. "But what about your Daniel Fast? Arent you going to be fasting?" She asked, pinching his already pink cheeks. With another great smile, he replied "No teacher! I wont be fasting anymore. You see, my stomach has changed alot. It's now allergic to Daniel Fast!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-112809351138535198?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/112809351138535198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=112809351138535198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112809351138535198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112809351138535198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2005/09/daniel-fast.html' title='The Daniel Fast..'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17303660.post-112809233338578772</id><published>2005-09-30T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T08:01:01.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A trip to Heaven..</title><content type='html'>A SundaySchool teacher was teaching about good and bad in a small room not more than 8 childrens. At first the young teacher told of a story about a young boy commiting a crime and being a naughty boy. She then explains to them that committing a sin against God would lead them into a hot burning place called HELL. "Who would want to be abandon by God and go there? Lift Up your hands. " She asked them. The kids were scared and didnt want to go to that nasty place, so no hands were lifted up. The teacher smiled and told of another story where a young boy has been very pleasing to God, and that God took the boy to a place which was wonderful and covered with gold. All eyes were on the short teacher, paying great attention. "It's call Heaven" she said. "So who would want to go there to be with God?" she asked again. All the children lifted up their hands except a young boy. So the teacher was curious as why the boy didnt lift up his hands and she asked, "Tommy, why arent you lifting your hands? Dont you want to go there?". The boy looked deep into the teacher's eyes with his innocent eyes and said, "I cant follow. Mom will be mad at me. She wants me to go home right after church."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17303660-112809233338578772?l=soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/feeds/112809233338578772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17303660&amp;postID=112809233338578772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112809233338578772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17303660/posts/default/112809233338578772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soupforthesmilingsoul.blogspot.com/2005/09/trip-to-heaven.html' title='A trip to Heaven..'/><author><name>AdriAnTheBArBAriAn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12891394354802315321</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/85/83/9993858/6754631546485s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
